So just over a week ago, I sighed deeply and began to trudge up the road to sign on once again at one of those slimming clubs. I won’t say which one. They are all the same to me; offering the same product but packaged differently. As much as I hate them, they are the only way I have found of losing weight that works for me. I sat through the obligatory welcome chat, feeling anything but positive or cheerful in the face of the task lying ahead of me. I paid my money. I got on the scales. I weighed once again, the most I have ever weighed. I found strange comfort in the fact that I hadn’t slipped into the unfamiliar territory of the next ‘stone’, but I was still at least two stone away from the top weight for my BMI. That is my goal to get to a healthy BMI weight by the way. That first week I sat obediently through the talks and congratulations; hope that I might be able to succeed, beginning to germinate. I was welcomed with enthusiastic clapping and I think of the AA. The only thing was that I hadn’t given my name nor confessed to being a foodoholic, but that is what I am, along with everyone else there, otherwise we wouldn’t be there would we? We would be jogging past the window as slim as a giraffe’s neck.