It’s A Boy Thing

When I first met my hubby he was a relatively pert (ish) 12 and a half stone (175 pounds) and apparently had been at that weight for years. Moving in with my mum (don’t ask) soon put paid to that. Being a good Jewish mother, she took it upon herself to fatten him up. Plus, of course, we did the dating thing. Instead of home-made lasagne for one with frozen veg, he was eating out in restaurants, drinking in bars and the like. And then there were the holidays, not least a 2-week all-you-can-eat Caribbean cruise and a week in the Keys for our honeymoon, replete with ribs, catfish, key lime pie and cocktails.

Well over the last four years, the weight has been gradually piling on until, I hate to say it, there was a large overhang on the previously stylish slacks, and (don’t tell him I told you) some rather nice man boobs. He reached a high point after our trip to Africa when he weighed in at 200 pounds.

Thinking more along the lines of moral support for me rather than torture for him, I suggested he come to Weight Watchers with me when we got back. I thought it might teach him about portion control and healthy eating. He skips breakfast, usually skips lunch or grabs crisps, chocolates, or a pot noodle at work, gorges when he gets home, then eats 2 or 3 portions of the dinner I made enough of to freeze.

Apparently, the idea of him going to Weight Watchers was on a par with him pulling his toenails out with pliers, although he used to pluck his monobrow with pliers until I begged him to stop! So he told me, if he hadn’t lost a stone in a month, he’d come to WW with me.

He started by taking fruit into work to eat at lunchtime – an apple and a banana. Always an apple and a banana, but it’s a start. Still no breakfast, and still no protein, good fats or anything like that. But at least he’s eating something during the day, and at least it’s healthy. He has a small snack when he comes home and I’ve stopped buying his favourite banana and chocolate chip yogurt. Then he eats dinner with me.

Within one week he’d lost 5 pounds. Two weeks he was at 7. But with only two weeks to go and seven more pounds to lose, he decided to take up running. Anyone who knows my hubby should take this opportunity to pick themselves up off the floor and wipe their eyes. He hates running. And he hates exercise for its own sake. He plays 5-a-side football (soccer) once a week and that’s pretty much it. But now most nights he’s on my treadmill in his underpants, sweat pouring off him, and complaining about how much he hates running. He also assures me that he’s doing push ups, sit ups and stuff like that, although he won’t do it in front of me so I’m not sure how many or how often.

So about a week of running then, and a few sit ups. And you know what. The man boobs are barely worthy of a training bra, the tummy is down to around 3 months pregnant rather than 6, and I can see definition in his obliques. It’s sickening!!

Here’s me, working my ass off and I’ve lost 3 pounds, and him, almost as an afterthought decides to lose weight and suddenly he has abs. What is it with guys and weight loss? Is it the female hormones that stuff us up? The years of yo-yo dieting and messing with our metabolisms? Or just proof once and for all that god is NOT a woman!

Oh, well. So we all know there’s no justice in the world. Still, I’m really proud of him and his amazing shrinking tummy. Bless him.