DAY 11: Adam and Eve

I’m a firm believer in formulas. In order for one to diet successfully, the entire family needs to support the weight-watcher – every step of the way.  I’m not suggesting that my family reduces their food consumption, or that my son should snack on carob and muesli bars, but at least when my wife summons us to dinner, there should be one suitable meal on the table.

Last night, I sat across my family (in the kitchen) as we rounded up the events for the day.  I enjoy these few uninterrupted minutes where we bring each other up-to-date on what’s happening in our lives.  At some stage during our conversation, and while my wife was multi-tasking – preparing the meal, setting the table and talking simultaneously, I was presented with a grilled chicken kebab and a fresh slice of lemon.  Contentedly, I entered the final round of eating for the day. 

Suddenly, my worst nightmare appeared before me.  In an elegant white platter, a family of fried pork schnitzels entered my world, sizzling in a mature cheddar cheese sauce.  They were humming a mysterious tune: “Eat me… eat me…”

My eyes began to water.  My hands were shaking, and my stomach – growling for a chance to meet this succulent temptation.  ‘Eve’ had finally shaken the apple off the tree, offering ‘Adam’ a bite of her newly presented heaven.

The Three Tenors appeared, singing their high notes.  I was oblivious to Hansel and Gretel’s cries for help.  I wanted a piece of the apple.  I needed to experience this unpredicted pleasure…

My wife has this infuriating habit of closing her eyes while eating.  This does nothing to curb my appetite.  She drifts into a mysterious abyss where every taste bud enjoys a powerful passion with every flavour it encounters.  As she continued to play intimately with her food, I left the kitchen table frustrated and abused.  The scandalous Kardashians were on the television again, but this time they were working to my favour; fifteen minutes into their show, and I had forgotten that something incredible was happening in the next room.

As the evening transpired, I treated myself to the refreshing joy of Greek yoghurt and honey.  ‘Eve’ entered the room with her Scottish biscuits and coffee.  Seated on the couch, I noticed her eyes were closed, as she continued to enliven her palette with warm sips and angelic bites of shortbread.  I felt defeated.

I was sensing uneasiness again.  With one thoughtless move, ‘Eve’ was able to awaken a ‘Pandora’s box’ of emotions.  And even more annoying, was that my wife had the power to unleash The Three Tenors within (even though they had been imprisoned for many years).  Perhaps I’ve underestimated the strength of a woman.

My work colleagues are questioning my cold stance towards them, particularly the females.  Forgive my weariness dear friends, but last night’s events almost brought ‘Adam’ to the brink of disaster. 

After all, I don’t want to add more problems to my plate?

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 10: Flashback

The alarm clock greeted us this morning with its regular maddening chant.  Caught in mid-sleep, we subconsciously reached for the ‘snooze’ button until it reminded us that 'routine' loomed ahead.

What set this morning apart from all the others, were the sounds which emerged from the radio as I fortuitously hit the music station. 

“Forever young, I want to be forever young…”

Songs from the 80s.  As I lay in bed listening to the radio, I drifted into another era – one that stirred up feelings of comfort, joy, reassurance and happiness.  Positive emotions, encouraging me to sing along; I greeted my morning with a contented outlook.   

There were mixed emotions in the Lambis household.  My son was screaming from the other end of the house, ordering me to keep the peace.  My wife pulled the duvet over her head, hoping to absorb any last minute silence before she too, would have to get up and embrace the day.

The songs continued for another twenty minutes.  A melodious blend of Alphaville, Tina Turner, The Bangles and Gloria Gaynor – abruptly transferring me to a quiet place at my childhood home (where I had spent most of my afternoons).  I could hear my mother and grandmother, two generations of incredible women, preparing the evening meal; a beautiful marriage of warm oven-baked bread, drizzled in olive oil and dusted with home-grown oregano. Fried aubergines – lightly salted, a vibrant Greek salad, snow-capped with creamy Feta cheese, and finally, slow-cooked lamb – embraced in a secret blend of rosemary and spices; a cornucopia of colourful flavours. 

My thoughts transferred me to my school in Johannesburg, where the sound of the ringing bell awakened my senses to curry mince rolls and sticky toffee pudding (from the school's cafeteria).  I could taste the warm apple pie, complimented by a round of vanilla ice-cream, when my father treated us to a Sunday afternoon at the local diner.  I was encouraging my mind to recall the taste of my mother’s mouth-watering chicken pie.

I was soaring above the clouds, associating everything to food.  Unfortunately, a bowl of muesli did not look appetizing at all for breakfast, and a protein shake was certainly not going to fill the void.  I reached for two slices of whole wheat bread and cemented them together with a slice of light cheese and turkey.  After a few seconds in the microwave, a heavenly product emerged, sizzling on my taste buds. 

I was forced to shift my calorie intake around for the day.  Lunch became breakfast, and breakfast will become lunch.  Hopefully, it will not make any difference to the daily calorie count, but if it does, it was certainly worth the flashback and all the wonderful memories. 

I miss my grandmother...

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 9: Kings vs Coffee

I kick-started the second week of my diet with a bowl of wheat cornflakes and a generous serving of skimmed milk.  Seated in front of the television and absorbed by my thoughts, a flashing stream of letters (moving across the screen) caught my attention: “Richard III’s skeleton found in London parking lot.”

Intrigued, I raised the volume with my remote and continued to follow the story.  After 500 years, the remains of England’s last Plantagenet king were finally unearthed.  Simultaneously on another channel, scientists were confirming that green coffee bean extract was the solution to any dieter’s curse.  Seated in my living room, I found myself at a crossroad between History and Science.

Needless to say, I gave King Richard the time off (not that he needed it), and followed the story of the coffee bean.

What has the media and the scientific community so excited about the green coffee bean extract is that people don’t have to do anything different when taking this food supplement; no need for exercise – they don’t even have to follow a strict diet, yet they appear to lose a considerable amount of weight.

I’ve decided to spend most of my afternoon researching the product.  If it’s possible to unearth and confirm (through DNA) the remains of a lost English king, then surely science could develop a magic potion that can transform my anomalous body into a work of art?

And, there’s another incentive: Green coffee bean extract has become one of the most searched products online. It's mostly available in pill form, but Starbucks has added it as part of a new line of low-calorie drinks, which are being promoted as a “boost of natural energy.”

Guess where I’m going?

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 8: Hansel and Gretel

In 2008 I was involved in a near-fatal car crash, which left me bedridden for an excruciating six months.  I’ve mentioned before that when one is confined to a bed for an indefinite period, the mind becomes a powerful tool.

In my book Where is Home?, I address the topic of laughter.  The quote, “If you don’t laugh at life, life will laugh at you,” is a result of this period of confinement and the hope (that forever played on in my mind) of a strong light at the end of the tunnel.

I woke up anxious this morning, searching for a hint of light, hoping to observe some indication that the oncoming week had promise.  The bathroom scale reading was the first sign which sparkled almost four kilograms lighter.  My son was delighted after a weekend of festivities, and my wife was singing a new ritual of hugs and kisses.  For a brief moment, I almost forgot the dark cloud of tubbiness, throbbing directly above.

I arrived at work in high spirits.  My feet were almost skipping to a tune, humming secretly in my mind.  I was thinking of how I had embarrassed my son this morning when I screamed “I love you!” as he entered the school.  His friends chuckled in the distance; he did not conceal his anger towards me. 

Laughter is a medicine on its own. If we all took the time to exercise this contagious emotion, wouldn’t the world be a better place?  And if we surrounded our day with this positive remedy, we would all inherit a power to observe any obstacle from a different perspective. 

The lingering path ahead seems shorter; there are only 358 hurdles before me.  I’ve acquired a sudden injection of confidence. My work colleague is no longer associated with an unhealthy food product; her yellow sweater has inspired me to embrace a bowl of diced pineapple with yoghurt for my mid-afternoon snack.  I do not feel guilty about the slice of cake I abducted last Saturday, although The Three Tenors were in full soprano last night over the final piece which rested on the kitchen counter.

The story of Hansel and Gretel came to mind.  As children, I recalled my mother reciting this 'horror' tale to us before bedtime; two children, lured into a home made entirely out of candy, and baked in an oven by a wicked old witch.  I laughed privately as I remembered those intimate moments.  

If I had researched the moral of the story, I would have realised that there are serious repercussions to eating dessert.  If Hansel was not mesmerised by the candy haven which lay before him, he and Gretel would not have suffered the fate of near-death.  In the same light, if my life had not been focused on satisfying the demands of The Three Tenors, I would not be suffering with my weight today.

I have decided to invest all this new burst of energy into my routine.  I am officially ignoring The Three Tenors and am finally listening to the sounds of the two children who are trapped in the furnace of the iniquitous witch.

I’m sending them a positive message that help is finally on its way.

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 7: Fear Factor

My sister challenged me to an enthralling game of ten pin bowling.  Our typical Sunday turned out to be a comical circus act, watched by an intense group of amused fans. 

Why intense?  What appeared to be a simple and familiar turf (one which we played on religiously as children), transformed into a gruelling and never-ending round of exercise.  My sister and I stared at each other surprisingly as we continued to play our game, breaking out into an uncontrollable stream of sweat.  Our children seemed to play the same game effortlessly before us, but the mere thought of carrying the bowling ball to the frontline made us hesitate. Have we really aged so much to the extent that a simple game of bowling was now considered a laborious sport?

I’ve seriously decided to include a strict exercise routine into my diet programme (as from tomorrow).  I did not comment on my previous attempt on sit-ups – that did not end very well.  Even my wife remarked this morning that I need to become more active (on a daily basis) as this is my last year before I enter the forth decade of my presence on this peculiar planet.

Could she be talking about having sex every day?

I was reading a comment sent to me by a reader.  He suggested that having a piece of cake at my son’s birthday was not “cheating,” but simply “living.”

Well, despite my persistent attempts to avoid a slice of heaven, I submitted to my cravings and thoroughly enjoyed a piece.  My mother even justified my actions by saying, “it’s your son’s birthday, so go on and have some cake!”

I don’t know which was worse: the orgasmic sounds which emerged from my mouth as I savoured every bite, or the feeling of guilt which overpowered me for the rest of the weekend. 

Today marked the conclusion of seven trying days of dieting.  Despite yesterday’s hiccup, I am feeling confident that tomorrow’s reading (on the scale) will prove me lighter and more determined to carry on.  It’s time to work hard now, to prove to the simple folk that a game of ten pin bowling is not as difficult as surviving fifteen minutes in a snake pit on Fear Factor.

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 6: Choices

To eat, or not to eat: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The twinge and torment of a shameful stomach,
Or to take arms against a sea of cakes;

I spent most of last night staring at my son’s birthday cupcakes, resting helpless on the dining room table.  For a brief moment, my wife left the room and I could see myself devouring these little heavens as if I was a whale, swallowing a school of fish. 

I was busy divulging my last protein shake for the evening, when the forged smiles of The Kardashians appeared on the entertainment channel. 
Suddenly, I found myself cursing for the next fifteen minutes, quoting every distasteful word I could possibly summon up. There’s something about this family which delivers a bitter taste to my mouth.  My wife came running down the stairs thinking I was confronting my neighbour over her deafening dog, but unfortunately this was not the case.
“Why don’t you change the channel?” she asked.
A moment of silence ensued.  I had spent all my limited energy in the throws of anger insulting a pornographic family, when I had the choice to simply reach for the remote and change the channel.  And so I did.

The Barefoot Contessa was adding ingredients to her interpretation of blueberry cheesecake. The following programme introduced the world of Buddy Volastro as he met the challenge of a wedding cake in the shape of the ‘Leaning Tower of Pisa’.  And finally, Andy Bates was on the warpath to find the best street food in America. 
Needless to say, my son’s cupcakes would not have survived another minute had my wife not entered the room.  It was almost midnight, and I was surviving another day of dieting.  It was a close call.

I decided to give the television another chance.  What caught my attention was a repeat of the formidable Diane Sawyer interview with Jaycee Dugard:

The kidnapping of Jaycee Lee Dugard occurred in June 1991, in California. Dugard was 11 years old at the time, and was abducted from a street while she was walking to a school bus stop. Searches began immediately after the kidnapping, but no reliable leads were generated. She remained missing for more than 18 years.
In August 2009, convicted sex offender Phillip Craig Garrido visited the campus of UC Berkeley accompanied by two girls. Their unusual behaviour sparked an investigation that led to his bringing the girls to a parole office - accompanied by a young woman who was then identified as Dugard.  
Garrido and his wife Nancy were arrested for kidnapping and other charges. In April 2011, they pleaded guilty to Dugard's kidnapping and sexual assault.  Law enforcement officers believe Dugard was kept in a concealed area behind Garrido's house in Antioch for 18 years. During this time, Dugard bore two daughters who were ages 11 and 15 at the time of her reappearance.
In June 2011, Phillip Garrido was sentenced to 431 years imprisonment; his wife received 36 years to life.

Reality finally kicked in.  Most of us are fortunate enough to make a choice.  Jaycee Lee Dugard was helpless.  Sometimes we get sidetracked by our own thoughts and beliefs, and then we receive a wakeup call which sets us back on the right path. 

The Three Tenors chose not to say anything.  They were there though, I could feel their presence.  Perhaps they are planning their own surprise at my son’s birthday this afternoon?  Anything’s possible.

Two days before my first weigh-in, and I am feeling the change already.  I have decided to carry on.  I am waging a full battle against the nauseating bulge.  This, after all, is my choice.

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 5: Tsunami

It’s no secret that I have an obsession for London.  Almost every member in my family avoids the topic (in my presence) as I will inadvertently spend the next hour chanting about how London is simply, “my favourite place on earth.”

London.  The word itself evokes feelings of excitement, grandeur, surprise and mental stimulation.  A simple visit to Notting Hill on a Saturday morning will confirm these emotions; colourful vendors line the streets selling everything from antiques and Victorian souvenirs to caramelised chestnuts and Italian pastries, swallowed by a creamy filling of almond, marzipan and custard. 
And if you decide to capture this contagious world through your digital camera, you will notice a recurring pattern of history, art, colour, royalty and the most diverse variety of mouth-watering foods. 

So why am I talking about London?  Besides the fact that I am thinking of my beautiful getaway 24/7, I received a message last night from an acclaimed producer in London who has confirmed the ‘Paul Lambis Comedy Shows’ for June 2013. 
“I’m going to London… I’m going to London…”
Forgive my childish tune, but the thought of performing my shows in this majestic part of the world, has me soaring.

I have entered the fifth day of my diet with faultless commitment.  My wife has recently discovered that the combination of cherry tomatoes, parmesan shavings, olive oil, Greek oregano and balsamic vinegar has become a favourable sideline for my dinner.  It’s normally accompanied by a sensible portion of grilled chicken breast or poached fish. 

But the thought of London frightens me.  I’ve realised that every time I visit, food was the key ingredient to my journey.  In fact, our recent holiday included a ‘tsunami’ of steak and Guinness pies, fish and chips, mushy peas, sponge cake from Tescos, grilled bacon strips from Marks and Spencer, nachos and cheeseburgers from Planet Hollywood on Heygate Street, spaghetti and garlic bread from Strada, German sausages from Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, shortbread biscuits from the Buckingham Palace shop, paella from Covent Garden Market, red liquorice from the candy shop on Ludgate Hill…

It’s an indescribable feeling.  Your sense of smell is on high alert in London whenever you pass a food establishment.  After a generous breakfast, you will find yourself sipping on a warm cup of soup at ten in the morning, and a gorgeous mature cheese sandwich an hour later – knowing that you have scheduled a luncheon appointment at the Blackfriar's pub at 2pm.
It’s this ‘tsunami’ that scares me.  My diet seems to be going well at the moment and I have to put on my army gear as I prepare myself for my son’s birthday tomorrow; a double-layered vanilla and chocolate chiffon cake with hazelnut chocolate filling and cheesy pizzas with mushrooms and ham, all within reach.
But if I maintain my diet until June, perhaps I could reward myself after the shows?  How much damage can I do to my figure in one week? 
My wife continues to shine the light of reality in my face:  “After six months of strict dieting, you won’t want to subject yourself to overeating.”
She does have a point, but I’m going to have to cross that bridge when I get there.

At the moment, I have to face the challenge of surviving my son’s thirteenth birthday luncheon tomorrow. I’ve warned The Three Tenors to behave in public.  After all, what goes on behind closed doors can remain a secret, but in the presence of all my family and their ensemble of photographic cameras, breaking the diet is risky business.

“I’m going to London… I’m going to London…”
 
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