Day 1
She’d signed at ‘Slimming Zone’ and paid her dues,
determined she would stick to it and lose
the weight that so miraculously formed
around her waist, her thighs and upper-arms.
She didn’t eat a lot and moved about
so couldn’t understand the fat throughout
her visceral muscles. So, the doctor said.
‘You’ll have to get it off or you’ll be dead’.
The choice was clear. She had to motivate
herself to reach a healthy weight. A state
she had aspired to since nineteen eighty two;
before the kids, of course, and Chicken Vindaloo.
‘I’ll just use up the last of this’. She hated waste,
and couldn’t bin the Galaxy or resist the taste.
Day 2
OK, the fridge is free of naughty stuff.
The weight is coming off, she’s had enough.
She’s stocked with salad leaves, tomatoes,
brightly coloured peppers, avocados
(for the nutrient intensity), and chicory
(for minerals and fibre). Nothing savoury
to sabotage the dietary plan.
The carrot sticks are ready in a pot
along with celery. She’s got a lot
of fruit and varied vitamins from Boots.
Tonight she’s stirring something hot with bamboo shoots.
The determination’s strong, that’s for sure.
It’s a shame about the peanuts in the drawer.
Day 3
They told her not to weigh herself each day.
‘Your weight can fluctuate’, is what they say.
But Daphne can’t resist the urge to know
when signs of eating healthily will show.
‘Hooray!’ That’s two pounds lighter than before.
She’s on the way to losing fifty four.
She gaily puts her porridge on the heat
and scoffs a square of chocolate as a treat.
‘It’s just a little taste of something sweet’,
she tells herself, but knows it’s self deceit.
Yet, overall, she isn’t doing bad, and so she goes
to town to look and maybe buy some smaller clothes.
It’s a pity city streets are full of takeaways.
‘It’s just the once. I’ll make it up by weigh-in day’.
Day 4
She’s taking Buster to the park today.
Not in the car, she’s walking all the way.
It’s got to be a mile, maybe more.
‘That’ll burn some calories, for sure’.
She’s had her hard boiled eggs, with rocket leaves.
It’s not the same as toast, but then she believes
in time the cravings will subside, and then
She’ll live on healthy food for good. ‘Amen’.
She sits upon a bench to rest her knees
while others seems to stroll around with ease.
‘I’ll be like them. I’ll get this weigh off me’.
She watches Buster run around the tree.
And wonders why her daughter ever came
to give her grandson such a silly name.
Day 5
She will admit to cheating just a little.
The nuts are gone, but savoury cravings whittle
down her self-control a tad. She’s not too bad
in daytime hours, but evenings drive her mad.
So she’s bought a static bike to exercise
and sweat through Emmerdale and Countrywise.
She’s trying different recipes, low fat.
It’s Chicken Noodle soup today. She’s hoping that
will fill her up enough. The weigh-in’s looming near.
Her need for something sweet is quite severe,
but she’s keeping off the cakes and custard creams
which always seem to dominate her dreams.
Tomorrow is another chance to lose.
She’s told herself, once slim, she’ll take a cruise.
Day 6
Just one more day before the great reveal.
The urge to weigh is pressing but she’s showing real
constraint and knows a part of that is dread
of knowing if she has or hasn’t shed.
She’d yo-yoed up and down for many years,
aware of side-way stares, sniggers, giggle-sneers.
This time was different. She can feel it in her bones.
She’s done with disapproving glances, undertones
that really say, ‘You’re fat. You eat too much’.
Pretending big is beautiful is such
a counterfactual way of getting through the day.
Her mind is positive. She’s on her way.
It could be wishful thinking or a fantasy
but did her trousers fasten slightly easier today?
Day 7
She picks a dress to wear that’s light and thin
although it’s cold, she’s trying anything
to get the right result. The scales will tell the truth.
She knows her calories are down but needs the proof
she’s not imagining her trousers are a little loose.
Even Buster likes this slimming lark.
He’s spending hours at the park.
So now the time has come to mount the scales.
She holds her breath, a silent pray, exhales,
then, Yeah! Whoopee! A loss of seven pounds.
She floats back home. Her feet don’t touch the ground.
Seven done, just forty seven left to do.
Tonight she celebrates with Chicken Vindaloo!
Daphne’s Diet
A state she had aspired to since nineteen eighty two…
4 minutes
28 responses to “Daphne’s Diet”
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Oh dieting just have to problems… how to start and how to end… and between there we all exist… and chicken vindaloo is an addiction.
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Everything’s game in poetry, Paul! 🙂
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Yummy…just love the spicy expectation of a hot takeaway 🙂
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Thanks, Grace, but there would be no argument with MY doc 🙂
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And just for you – here’s day 2!
Daphne’s Diet – Day 2
Ok, the fridge is free of naughty stuff.
The weight is coming off – she’s had enough.
She’s stocked with salad leaves, tomatoes,
a variety of peppers, avocado
(for the nutrient intensity), and chicory
(for minerals and fibre). Nothing savoury
to sabotage the dietary plan.
A cabbage stew is brewing in the pan.
The carrot sticks are ready in a pot –
along with celery. She’s got a lot
of fruit and varied vitamins from Boots.
Tonight she’s stirring something hot with bamboo shoots.The determination’s strong – that’s for sure.
It’s a shame about the peanuts in the drawer.LikeLike
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Neatly doen and with humour too.. Well crafted piece that brought a smile…
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diet=tied to something
sewn bearing guilt or someone else’s moral weight
i cling to the tendril scents
yes, i want, all the time
what is it that satisfies my soul
i’m not sure either but i still write everyday
like i suppose you do as well…great subtle evocation in your piece…
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Thank you, Edward.
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the stomach knows what it wants, real work goes in resisting temptation
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Thank you, Walt 🙂
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Haha, thank you, ZQ 🙂
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Thank you, Bryan.
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Fun fun read! Having always been slim, one day….when I turned 67, I looked down and was surprised to see that I’d sprouted a belly! Have no idea how to diet……love to walk and exercise….but that belly sits there still! I’m reminded of a few lines by Ann Lamott:
Look up.
Not down at your shoes.
Not down at your belly — yes, it’s sticking out.
Look up.Love these words………:) Yours was a fun read this AM!
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🙂 thank you, Lillian.
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Ha! i dance walk
166 miles a month..
leg press close
to half a ton
25 times..
and i am still
diagnosed as
morbidly obese..
at 230 LBS.. (yes..
i’m probably shaR
ing too much2.. heHe..;)
My father and mother
both live(ed) past
80.. never
an exercise
and mostly
always
considered
obese as well..
Life is fun when
enjoyed.. i’ll never
fully trust a practice
of medicine again.. now
as happy comes within..
pounds or
not.. with SMiLes..
LesSon finAlly
lEarned from
mother alWays
happy and
father
with
zero fear
for living great!..
Truly the practice of
medicine is an average effect
of the population as whole.. there
are outliers
who
defy
all
average doctor
ODDs.. WiNks..:)LikeLike
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