New Year, Same Old Story...

It's January. So that can mean only one thing: dieting...

It's everywhere. And once again, I find myself sucked into the yo-yo world of media pressure.

Did you notice that December was all about Christmas indulgence and cookery programmes on TV? There seemed to be so many more this Christmas than I remember seeing before. Everyone was at it: Delia (natch), Jamie, Nigella, Hugh F-W, Gordon - even The Hairy Bikers got in on the act this year. Every show had one thing in common: calories, and lots of them. Butter? Absolutely. Cream? By the bucketload. Chocolate? The more the merrier - after all, it's Christmas, isn't it?

For a whole, blissful month, nothing was off-limits as far as these doyennes of TV cookery were concerned. And it wasn't just TV. Magazines, newspapers and websites all carried the same message: "Eat, drink and be merry: for tomorrow we die(t)!"

And then comes January. Long month of dark nights, cold weather and too many days till the next pay packet. The common theme is cutting back, denial and debt. Or, at least, that's what the lovely people in the media would have you believe. Yes, the very same people who in December were topping up your wine glass and persuading you that fifteen mince pies were perfectly justified, are now wagging a stern finger, accusing you of too much spending, too much indulgence and too little self-control.

Channel 4 even has its own diet show this month. In My Big Fat Diet Show, viewers were informed that '..the average Briton eats a whopping 7,000 calories on Christmas Day...' (presumably mostly made up of the creations of Delia, Nigella, Gordon et al...), shown exactly how microscopic a 100-calorie portion of Chicken Jalfrezi looks like, and examines how supermarkets con us into buying the wrong kind of food. Lots of interesting stuff, but the main problem is that, after telling us how it's important to eat healthily, it then focuses on an incredibly unhealthy 'drop a dress size in 2 weeks' diet of just 1,500 calories per day. It's impossible to maintain that after the two-week period and it struck me that some women might be tempted to keep going on the ridiculously small calorie intake - something that could have damaging long-term effects on their health.

Have I cut back on what I eat? Yes, of course I have! Because that's what I do every January, just like the majority of women in the UK. Have I joined a gym? No, but that's mainly because I couldn't afford to - I did find myself tempted the other day. Bought an excercise DVD? No - although you can't turn the TV on or open a magazine at the moment without some C-list celeb looking tanned and ridiculously defined promoting their latest fitness video.

This year (and I realise that by writing it down I could be jinxing myself) I am determined to eat healthily and sensibly and exercise more. I already enjoy yoga every week, so I'm looking to increase my practice at home and try to go for a walk every day. I'm not setting massive goals, like losing 5 stone, or running a marathon - I reckon that if I can make small changes and maintain them for the next six months, then I'll be able to reassess from there.

I'll keep you posted on how I get on!

Struggling again...

I was doing so well. And then, I got on a plane...

I promised I'd be entirely honest during this year, so there's no getting round it: I had an experience last week that set me back weeks...

I've been doing all the positive thinking, trying to exercise every day, watching what I eat and I was beginning to make progress (like walking past shop windows without being horrified at the large woman reflected back at me).

But then, last week, I had to fly abroad for work and it all went horribly wrong.

So here it is: airplane seats. With the unforgiving arm rests that just seem to have been positioned to argue with the widest part of my body. Who decides how wide to make these seats? Do they expect everyone to have unifomally shaped legs with no curves at all?

Now, don't get me wrong here; I'm not the largest woman and I certainly wasn't the biggest on the plane. But the problem was, I felt like I was. And that made me angry with myself for letting an inanimate object (ie the too-narrow seat) define how I saw my body. I felt like I was the only person on the plane having trouble fitting into the seat and that brought back all the old demons regarding my body image. How on earth larger people than me manage to travel by air on budget airlines is beyond me. Do you purposefully have to choose an airline with bigger planes (and therefore more expensive seats) in order to ensure you don't have problems? If so, isn't that a tax on larger thighs in the air? (I realise that sentence looks entirely wrong, but there you go!)

The other issue is that if your seat is constantly crushing into you, isn't that dangerous? My ankles swelled up (and they never do that), which was slightly worrying when you think about the problems of DVTs caused by air travel.

Obviously, people would be justfied in saying that the obvious answer is to lose weight. Fair enough. But does that mean I can no longer travel for business or pleasure until I've shrunk in size? I wouldn't mind if I was a size 32 and weighed 30 stone - by that point, you expect some restrictions due to your size. But I'm a size 18 and not huge by any standards. I just happen to have thighs that are wide at the very point where airplane seat arm rests are placed.

So, I admit it: I'm struggling. Right now all I can remember is that crushing embarassment at feeling like I (quite literally) didn't fit in.

Where from here? I'm not sure. All I know is that I have a lot of work to do to regain my confidence - any suggestions gratefully received!

Pash xxx

Can big thighs save your life?!

So. Part one of Learning to Love the Thighs of Doooom...

I'm going to try to collect good news stuff about having bigger-than-average bits (if you'll pardon the expression) because I don't want to just moan about my legs. If I'm going to do this, I need all the positive encouragement I can get.

And it starts here...

According to an article on the BBC news website, scientists have discovered that the larger a person's thighs are, the more their hearts are protected. Crazy, but true. Science fact. Scientists studied 3,000 people and, men and women with thighs over 23.6" (60cm) in circumference have a lower risk of heart disease and early death. It's something to do with insulin, apparently - muscle mass is important to help the body deal properly with insulin levels. So narrow thighs could lead to an increased risk of diabetes, according to the report.

I'm not looking for justification for being the size I am - after all, one of the main objectives of my year-long challenge is to lose some of the inches from my almost-three-feet-in-circumference thighs - but it just goes to show that our bodies are amazing things we're still learning about. So today, I feel a little less ashamed of my bulky friends (thighs, that is. Not actual friends. All of my friends are of the decidedly non-bulky variety...) - and that can only be a good thing.

And so it begins...

I am in shock.

My thighs are nearly 3 FEET in circumference. Each.

Seriously.

I've always had large thighs compared the rest of my body - looking a little like Wallace in The Wrong Trousers - but now I'm losing weight everywhere else but and it's completely frustrating.

Don't get me wrong - this isn't another whingey woman with woeful body image issues: this is an average-sized British lady who is fed up to the back teeth of looking like she's wearing someone else's (huge) thighs. As for the rest of my body, it's not going too bad, actually. Boobs are good (natch), waist is nicely small for my frame and bum is significantly better thanks to regular yoga. But the thighs are stubbornly refusing to reduce - and with everything else shrinking around them, they're becoming more noticeable by the day.

The only way I'm going to do something about this is if I force myself into it (being, as I am, renowned for starting things I never finish) - so drastic action is necessary. So here's the plan:

1 year - starting right now.
1 mission - to love my thighs and be good to them, no matter what.
1 goal - 2 shrinking thighs (hopefully...)

I know it's a crazy thing to start a year's challenge on October 14th... I realise that Wednesdays are not generally renowned for being particularly famous days for starting things. But if I leave it until New Year, I will be (a) thoroughly depressed for two-and-a-half months; and (b) much more likely to have given up the whole shebang. And if I leave it till next Monday, I wil have talked myself out of it by Friday teatime.

So it starts. Right here. Right now.

I have no idea whether I will be successful in this or just end up amusing myself with yet another hare-brained scheme that seemed like a good idea at the time. But I have to give it a go. I have no idea what I'm going to do to try to reach my desired goal of loved-up thighs (that looks so wrong, but you get the idea), but I'm willing to try almost anything, as long as it isn't expensive (I'm broke), or requires surgery (I'm a wuss).

So, here goes. I'm sure I'm not alone in all this, so maybe if someone else is reading with similar problematic appendages, maybe they'll let me know and we can encourage each other. If not, I hope my random witterings make you smile.

Alright, thighs. Let's do this...

Day 1:

Thigh circumference: A whoppingly depressing 34" (that's 86.3cms, metric fans...)

Ugh... Here goes...