I have decided to diet. After stumbling across a less-than-flattering photo of me on Facebook (the only photo of many bad ones I have “untagged''), I decided enough was enough.
Probably no ice-cream tastes as good as being skinny feels (except for Ben & Jerry's chocolate fudge brownie).
As a novice dieter, I didn't really know where to start. I usually get bored after a week, so it's imperative that the diet isn't strict enough to make me break after three days, nor so lenient as to have little effect. I need drastic but easy-to-stick-to. It's a difficult line to tread.
Past diets have inevitably ended in chip-shop binges and messy, king-size chocolate-bar indulgences. I have attempted a detox on a few occasions but cracked after three days when I had an uncontrollable urge to eat baked beans and lots of them.
I have tried diets when I eat nothing but soups and smoothies — right after I bought my first blender — but when you're a busy career girl (such as myself), it's not an option unless you want to pre-pack the smoothies.
This invariably ends up in flasks full of unappetising brown sludge. The blender now lives under my bed in its box.
If you're thinking I am being a bit hypocritical for starting a diet, you are right. A few weeks ago, I wrote a column about my loathing of diets and fitness but this is Dubai and I'm fickle — a lot can change in a few weeks.
So I have started with a basis of fruit in yoghurt and salads with cheese, accompanied by regular runs along the beach.
So far, no weight loss but, as my friends keep reminding me, it has only been a week.
One thing I have noticed is that diet talk creates camaraderie among me and any female within a 6-mile radius.
“Ooooh, is that purple carrot juice on your desk?'' a colleague inquired, before a conversation about the pros and cons of fruit sugars ensued.
Another intellectual discussion about the correct pronunciation of “endive'' followed my not-so-tasty salad at lunch last week. The conclusion was that the French pronunciation was favourable.
Everyone loves to talk about diets (except, probably, men who date diet obsessives).
I have been swapping exciting salad recipes, picking up diet-cheat hints and discussing the (in)effectiveness of half a grapefruit before every meal. I feel like I'm in a new club.
I think trying to lose weight is such a popular talking point because doing it is so awful that you have to feel smug to feel any joy about the process.
Eating a thimble full of soya oatmeal with no sugar for breakfast is a thankless task unless you can brag about it later and receive the praise and envy of your female acquaintances.
That is also why I am writing this column. I want you all to know that I go running on the beach, that I eat salads and that I am shunning chocolate.
I'm not losing enough weight for people to notice, so it's the only pleasure I can get from it. I don't care if this is boring all the men I know. I don't care! I want to shout it from the rooftops: I ate greens for lunch!
It's also one of the few times I can lord it over friends who are eating (gasp!) “carbs'' for lunch and I can disapprovingly shake my head as my friend tucks into a whole tub of ice-cream while I “enjoy'' a low-fat yoghurt for dinner.
Of course, inside I am aching for my summer holiday to start so I can start to eat all the things I love again. Just 47 days to go — not that I'm counting.
