DAY 4: The Three Tenors

It was approximately 3:30am when I woke up with a monstrous headache.  I spent most of the night tossing and turning, despite the fact that I went to bed on an empty stomach.  I was not even tempted (before I turned in for the night) to sample my mother’s bran biscuits with a warm glass of milk – a comforting formula to brave the bitter cold. 

I looked over to my right where my wife lay sound asleep, curdled in her foetal position – looking content.  My stomach, as usual, was playing its part; “Mount Everest” as my son continuously refers to it.  I almost chuckled at the thought that although my wife and I lay in the same room, we appeared to be in different time zones.  I was somewhere high up, surrounded by my snow-capped brothers, while she remained cuddled next to a fireplace on the ground.

And then, the inevitable happened.  My restless night turned out to be an ear-piercing nightmare.  The voices returned.  They were arguing, each one voicing his opinion over the bran biscuits that lay tucked away in the kitchen cupboard.  One of them even suggested that two biscuits combined with a layer of hazelnut chocolate spread, would make my mother’s winning recipe an absolute victory. 

The Three Tenors continued on into the night, as I refused to participate in their unrehearsed drama. I openly admit that I am not an opera aficionado, but their infuriating noise did not sway me to please the hunger pains.  Instead, I opted for a bottle of mineral water (which thankfully was within reach), and began to concoct my own tune.  I’ve realised that the game is far from over, but if they think their song has any merit, I’m afraid they’re barking up the wrong tree.

My wife greeted me this morning with her normal ritual of allergy coughs and sniffs.  It appears that her night too was also a restless one.  Although I had the perception that my sleeping beauty was lost in her own fairytale, she complained that her evening was governed by a loud resonating bark (could she also hear the voices?).  It’s the second time this week that our neighbour has mistakenly locked her dog outside.  I’m planning to speak to her about it as soon as I get home from work.  “One more strike, dear neighbour, or you will be greeted by a pile of ‘Lost Doggy’ posters.” 
“Perhaps I should look into an Anger Management course at my local community centre.  What do you think?”

As for tonight, I have my own plan of action.  My wife has informed me that the bran biscuits are no longer – she consumed them for breakfast.  After I savour my evening meal of grilled chicken, tomato and mozzarella salad, I will resort to the bedroom to meet 'the singing trio'.  “Get ready to hear my version of La Donna e Mobile boys…”

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 3: Breaking Habit

One of the most frequently used lines in a medical television drama is: “The next forty-eight hours are crucial…”  These words are often delivered by a doctor who is consoling a weeping spouse, sibling or relative over a patient who has undergone a serious operation. In the same light, the first two days are the most important in any dieter’s programme.  If you’ve managed to overcome these two infuriating time periods, then you’re on the right track.  My problem though, is that there are another 363 hurdles positioned before me, and the finishing line seems to be engulfed by a deep, low-lying mist.

It’s important to set small goals so that you don’t wander off in another direction and land up at the local Friday’s.  I’m trying to ignore the recent text message beaming brightly on my phone, offering me a twenty percent discount on any meal at this popular burger joint. 
A close friend once mentioned that the average person needs twenty-one days to break a habit, making this my first realistic deadline.

I am in high spirits this morning as I have not faulted on my diet.  Despite the constant temptations which are forever surrounding me, I am determined to make this my year.  “Mind over matter,” they say, although my work colleague (who is following my blog) seems to have taken the hint and worn a darker colour to work.  Thankfully, it’s not pink, but an inviting brown colour – almost like chocolate.  “No! Your work colleague is not food Paul; she is a human being, just like you.”

I’ve started to rely more on my protein shakes today, so this is good news. I’ve decided to use my graphic design skills and apply a photo of my face to a body of a well-known celebrity.  I’m not mentioning his name at the moment as it might throw you off-track, but I am hoping to cross the finish line looking like him.  I will refer to this image as an incentive – whenever I need a boost. It takes hard work and determination, so I’ve added my first set of sit-ups to my programme this evening. 

The three voices within me are quiet today. They haven’t said a word.  Perhaps they’ve realised that I am finally serious and their time is limited.  Time will tell.

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 2: Carrots and Celery Sticks

I turned on the television this morning, hoping to find some inspirational story: before and after shots of someone who had lost a significant amount of weight.  My present mood is yearning for reassurance – someone, somewhere who is experiencing the same emotions or symptoms of dieting.
The channel had been preset from the night before – my wife’s preference – her world of high street fashion and designers who make absolute no sense when describing their reasoning behind a green vomit-coloured top combined with a rust-orange pencil skirt.

The voices re-emerged, reminding me that three people remain trapped within my body. One of them was crying for fried eggs and bacon on toast, the second, somewhat quieter, recalling last night’s dinner of bland carrots and boiled chicken - nothing like the bucket of KFC we had last week. 
The third voice was screaming, urging me to attack the television remote and send the 'carrots and celery sticks' (who were modelling down the fashion ramp) to everlasting divine punishment.

Why was I so aggressive?  Why was I compelled to attack people who, after all, looked after their physical wellbeing? Was I jealous?  Perhaps I was, but the truth remained that I hated carrots and celery sticks, and I would rather munch on a salami stick, packed with enough protein to keep the three people trapped within me at bay.

My work colleague continues to wear pink – her signature colour.  She constantly reminds me of that dreamy strawberry milkshake, but my senses today are adding cream and marshmallow topping.  I was almost tempted to stop at the local bakery to satisfy my urge of a warm cinnamon bun, but reality caught my attention when I saw my reflection in the store window.  Those three people trapped within me made their presence known as my silhouette stretched across the store name printed on the window.

Three hours before lunch and it’s time for my coffee break.  My Starbucks flask is on standby to support me, and hopefully these hours will pass by like tasty chicken wings, drizzled in honey mustard sauce. There's Greek yoghurt with chicken kebab on the menu today.  Hopefully, there's no carrot or celery in the salad…

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com

DAY 1: Monday Blues

I've decided to take control of my body.  I was thinking of the late Princess Diana who described her marriage as "overcrowded," and that's exactly how I feel.  For the past five years, it seems as though three people have been trapped into this abyss I call "Paul."  I have been trying to please all my 'guests'; grilled cheese burgers from McDonalds, a Dr Pepper from the local kiosk, and often a slice of carrot cake which justifies my vegetable intake.

I won’t disclose my starting weight at the moment.  Proper etiquette dictates that you should never ask a woman her age, so don’t ask a fat person his/her weight.  Truth is, I stood on the scale this morning and realised that it would take me a while to ‘digest’ the scale reading – I wouldn’t want to shock you on our first date.  After all, first impressions are the most important.

I drove to the local Starbucks this morning and purchased myself a flask, screaming out the coffee shop’s label.  From a psychological point-of-view, I am thinking that my diet shakes in this flask will trick my mind to thinking that it’s having a cup of White Chocolate.  As I sat on the couch savouring the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a heavy burst of rain made its appearance outside, echoing some sort of rebirth.  It was a wonderful feeling, although I could hear the voice of one of the prisoners inside me screaming, “Look at the round coffee table, it looks like a large, cheesy pizza with an anchovy topping.”

It’s almost the end of the first month of 2013, and I still have three days to go before I finalise my resolutions. One thing’s for sure – it’s the first day of a new beginning and I will invite this new burst of energy to stay with me for the week.  I am hoping that the mood will hold for the rest of the day, so I can blog successfully tomorrow that:

a)                 I was not tempted to eat carrot cake

b)                  My colleague at work sitting opposite me does not remind me of a strawberry milkshake

c)                  My fingers are not encouraging me to eat a double hot dog for lunch with enough ketchup to drown the sausages and leave its mark on my t-shirt

d)                  And that I told the three voices inside me to be prepared – it’s time to set them free.

This is the first day of the rest of my life.  I will not let the typical Monday Blues get the better of me.  I have just sent a message to all my unfriendly 'guests': “Monday is the perfect day to start your one-year diet!”

Weight for me tomorrow. Paul

Paul Lambis is the author of “Where is Home?” – A journey of hilarious contrasts.  

For more information on Paul Lambis, and to order his book online, visit www.paul-lambis.com