If I lost a stone

Some time ago, I had to undergo surgery of a delicate nature.
shortly after my arrival at the hospital I was introduced to my
anaesthetist. I recall my sense of unease, as he began asking the
personal questions that would enable him to determine my dose of
anaesthetic.

The enquiry concerning my weight inevitably came, followed by the not
so tactful presentation of the scales. Nothing could have prepared me
for the horror I experienced as the dial swung round to reveal that I
carried almost four stone of surplus fat! At that point they could have
freely dismissed the need for anaestetic, I almost passed out cold on
the spot.

The Icing on the cake came later from my doctor who, having poked
around at my post op areas, bluntly informed me of my need to increase
my activity level. 'Something high inpact should do it.'

I winced. The nearest I had ever come to aerobic exercise was ten
minutes laid on my back, wrestling with the zip fastening on my jeans.
Breathless? I was verging on asthmatic!

A few weeks later, whilst waiting for my bus to work, I met a
delightfully ecentric lady. Observing the diet magazine I had been
reading, she smiled knowingly before enquiring of my success. I found
myself conveying to her my horrific hospital experience and recall
being shocked by her reaction when she almost collapsed with
laughter.

Sensing my discomfort she hastily rummaged through her purse before
triumphantly holding up a rather worn photograph. "This", she declared
with an eliment of pride, "was me eight months ago".

The portrait of the twenty-two stone woman squashed into a bathing suit
left me reeling, for it held no resemblance to the slender figure, in
purple lycra, before me. She went on to explain her humiliation when,
on flying for the first time, the air hostess had been forced to fit an
extension to her seat belt. Even then the belt barely restrained her
bulk.

Her laughter on hearing my story, she concluded, had not been meant as
an insult but as encouragement. She knew from experience that my
degradation guaranteed my success as a slimmer.

I shall ofcourse investigate every diet thoroughly before embarking
upon my new campaign. A friend of mine, I shall call him John to
protect the innocent, followed that milk shake diet. This involved him
drinking one of the shakes in replacement of his breakfast. Though the
drinks do indeed provide all the nutrients required by the body, he has
advised me to avoid the diet like the plague. For him, missing the
sensation of actually consuming a meal became unbearable. Things
finally came to a head when, whilst working as a pharmacist, he found
himself subconsciously chewing a piece of Elastaplast.

I guess the moral of this story has to be, choose a diet that suits
your requirements. Needless to say, John is now taking an alternative
approach.