I must admit I walked a bit taller on the second last day of my detox. Pride really does straighten the spine. 'I've done it!' I told myself and anyone else that would listen, I had successfully detoxed for almost a whole week.

Considering I've never been on a diet in my life, it wasn't particularly easy, which made the fact that I stuck to it all the more triumphant.

But I shouldn't have crowed so loudly - or at all.

Feeling self righteous I went for an after-work drink with a friend, where I piously sipped lemon and ginger tea. Then I went to the gym. On a Friday night. Oh I felt smug! I looked at all the poor unhealthy people around me, spilling out of the Soho pubs. They couldn't swill their drinks fast enough, they couldn't drag on their cigarettes hard enough, they could stuff their faces with crisps quick enough.
What wretches! They would have their day of reckoning.

I had the gym to myself. Upstairs, out on the street, Sodam burned around me. I did my exercises. Then as an afterthought I paid a visit to my old enemy- the scaly old scales. Ha scales - you cannot hurt me this time, for I have been on a detox, I told them as I approached. I leapt on, as light as a feather. Or not. It seems I was not as light as a feather. I was more like as light as a MRI machine or a pre-1980s IBM computer or a wilderbeast or a rubbish skip.

Whilst detox I had managed to put on 2 kilograms. In a week. On top of the other 2 kilograms I had put on whilst working out with a personal trainer. Being healthy was making me enormous.

I reeled off the scales in genuine shock. And also anger - was all this deprivation for naught?

I threw my evil gym membership card against the mirror in the changerooms (it bounced off), I threw a handful of body wash at the mirror (it stuck) and I stamped my foot on the ground (nothing happened.)

Then I met my friend Tim, who had met his friend from Andrea from Italy, who had his friends with him and the whole merry gang were at a bar in Soho drinking bottles of chenin blanc like it was a Friday (which it was) and smoking like they had a week to go before the smoking ban.

"Do I look fatter than I did before my detox?" I ask Tim. He was very diplomatic (even though he is not a diplomat). "Maybe the scales were wrong when you weighed yourself initially," he suggested. His other suggestions over the course of the evening also included,"Maybe your portion sizes on detox were too large. Maybe you drank too much juice. Maybe you haven't been doing enough cardio. Maybe your body is not sure what to make of the detox so is storing energy. You need to go on the stepper."

Maybe, maybe. But I felt like a failure. With one day to go of the detox, I broke it in spectacular fashion. I drank wine. I smoked Tim's cigarettes. I ate curry with naan bread. And I was slumping. That wonderful few inches of height that came with the feeling of pride left me the minute the scales shredded my dreams.
And so Saturday morning rolled around. I had a semi hangover. The low level feeling of failure hung around like the day's grey English summer skies. I actually felt quite depressed.

Detox be damned. Fitness be damned. I gave whole thing up when at midday I opened my emails and got this:

Hey Brigid-When I read your comments on going to the gym, well,I had to smile-ok, I really laughed out loud. I started going everyday (except Sunday) to a gym four months ago. I hate-I mean really really hate-going to the gym. But what I do love is how my clothes don't fit my body anymore! I am a 51 year old Nanna of 5 grandchildren and I vowed to myself to be around to dance at my grandchildren's weddings, and being from the South, oh do we love to eat, I knew I had to do something. (I resembled Santa's wife) I had a trainer for less than 30 days, that was all I could afford, and everyday I do the exercises that I can with as much intensity as possible. I don't talk when I work out, I use an old fashioned Walkman, and do I sweat! After I am done with my work-out, then I will talk. Keep up the great work! I know it is a big pain, but I promise it is well worth it. Remember, it is a life change that you are doing.

Thank-you Karen Mac of Alabama. You made my day and made me rethink giving up so easily.

Now I am back on the detox. I have returned to the gym with a glint in my eye like I mean business. I have wiped the body wash off the gym's bathroom mirror and I have kicked the scales in the goolies. I have introduced myself to the stepper. I've stopped slumping.

Labels: depression, failure, pubs, scales, wine