Erratum

I know said earlier today that I am not fat. I stand by that. However, I am definitely fatter than I thought. Approximately two months ago, I had to go to the doctor, and she weighed me. I asked her not to tell me how much the scales read as I don't like getting too obsessive about pounds and kilograms, prefering instead to go by whether my jeans fit or not. But then when she later went out of the room to get something, I looked at her notes and found the result. Faithful, to say I got a shock is an understatement. It was as if I'd switched on my toaster, my hairdryer, and my microwave, held them all simultaneously and jumped into a bath of petrol. I wasn't happy.

Since then, I have been on somewhat of a diet and exercise regime, and I have, of late, been feeling a little fleeter of foot. So after a session in the basement gym a short while ago, I thought I'd get on the scales by the door and see how much I'd lost. Guess what? I was exactly the fucking same.

Immediately, a flood of (female?) excuses for this clear abberation swirled into my mind:

• The scales in the doctor's are different to the ones in the gym
• Muscle weighs more than fat
• My trainers weigh more than the no-shoes I was wearing at the doctor's
• My trainers may weigh several kilos
• My sweaty post-gym clothes are heavier than normal clothes
• I may be at a different stage in my hormonal cycle than I was before
• My lunch was still digesting
• My hair is a good inch longer now
• My brain may weigh more as I have acquired two months' more knowledge

However, the sad truth remains, that give or take a kilo, in two months of reduced alcohol, no chocolate, no crisps, no wheat, and increased exercise, I have changed not a jot. Sympathy welcome.