I can pinpoint the exact moment I decided, that’s it. No more. I am done. We had gone to Reunion for the most divine improv festival. It was so, so hot and I felt like a whale in my body. But I managed to get away with not looking in mirrors, and wearing those huge Thai fisherman’s pants and vests. When I look back I remember a sense of overwhelming discomfort because I was so heavy and big and bloated. Eating all that fruit and bread and beer didn’t help either. And then we came home and I saw the photographs that others had posted of me, on Facebum. They were photos that I hadn’t chosen or edited or approved. And I was absolutely horrified and shocked. I couldn’t believe my eyes. That huge, fat old lady was me. Here is one of those photos. It’s not the worst one, but it is a good example.

That was it. And then the right thing happened at exactly the right time. We were walking the dogs and chatting to another dog walking owner and I suddenly realised that she was half the size she had always been. Christa told me what she had been doing; the Dukan diet. I went home and started doing the research. I bought oat bran and fat-free cottage cheese, and fish, and eggs. I bit the bullet and just dived straight in. I am not sure how many kilos I lost in that first week. My friend Peter Hayes died, on Big Friendly’s birthday. Things were not terribly normal. And I didn’t even have a scale to weigh myself. But somehow, for me, it was the right start; crazy, tempestuous, illogical and manic. By the end of that first ”attack phase” of pure protein (which I didn’t do properly when I think back) I had lost kilos, but I didn’t even know how many. And I had stopped carbs and sugar, and the cravings were gone.

I guess I needed a trigger. My weight had become a constantly creeping up problem. I was embarrassed, uncomfortable and resigned. Until the trigger. Here is a picture of me yesterday. Most importantly, I am 100% more alive.