Friday, July 2, 2010

Death By Marguerita

Days 16 & 17

Then: 15 stone 5 pounds (215 lbs)
Now: 14 stone 8 pounds (204 lbs)

It was only a marguerita, but it proved fatal.

The problem I’ve had with this diet from the beginning is its complete lack of sociability. You have to put your life on hold while you plough through dry chicken and white egg omelettes. Meanwhile your friends are enjoying the delights of the English seasons: spring lamb, fresh grown peas and beans, strawberries – and Pimms.

It’s been hot up in Northumberland: a very rare event. For Jo and I, used to Californian habits, this means one thing – an early evening marguerita on the rocks with salt round the rim. On Thursday night, after six hours of East Coast trains (I returned from London just a few hours after I arrived – Chicken Caesar without Caesar on the train back), we picked up a friend of mine from the airport who’s staying at the house for a few days.

Keith is part of my life that I find hard to recall as it’s all rather hazy, largely due to the vast quantities of alcohol we used to consume together with friends. We once went on a fishing trip to Ireland with 10 other blokes, and I do recall being found crawling down the centre of a main road at four in the morning: I was using the white line to find my way back to the hotel. It was that kind of trip: pints of Guinness at Stansted airport on the way out – at 8 in the morning; songs and bonhomie by night. And I didn’t catch a single fish, though I did manage to skewer my earlobe with a particularly vicious hook one hungover morning.

That way of living is completely behind me now, but Keith still likes a drink or two. We’d just settled into the bar of my favourite Italian haunt, Fratelli’s, when he mentioned the M-word. That did it. The intoxicating blend of tequila, lime and triple sec awaked senses all but killed by two weeks of dieting. Two glasses of pinot grigio later, I was gone.

This morning I awoke feeling terrible, but had lost another pound. I’d only eaten steak and a few aubergines, so that’s not particularly surprising. But Keith is staying for four days. Resistance is futile.

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