The Desperate Bride’s Diet Club

by Alison Sherlock

  Violet shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Oooh, this is nice,’ said Kathy, going into the living room.

  Violet had flicked a duster around and hoovered when she had got home from work. She supposed that counted as a workout. Anyway, she was exhausted afterwards so it must have done some good.

  To Violet’s surprise, everyone else turned up soon after. It was a different kind of diet club. This time they were in charge. It felt a little naughty.

  ‘So, the bitch is back,’ said Kathy, waving the letter at them.

  ‘I rang them up yesterday morning,’ said Maggie.

  ‘Mum!’ whined Lucy, rolling her eyes.

  ‘She can’t get away with talking to us like that.’

  ‘Shame they tell us we’ve got to go back otherwise we’ve wasted our year’s worth of subscriptions,’ said Kathy.

  ‘Do we have to?’ said Lucy, looking worried.

  ‘I guess we’ve got to get weighed,’ said Edward. ‘And the aerobics might be good for us.’

  ‘Yes, but what about bloody Trudie?’ said Kathy.

  ‘Sod her,’ muttered Lucy. ‘I’m more worried about me than her.’

  ‘I think that’s right,’ said Edward. ‘And hopefully she’ll behave herself from now onwards.’

  There was a short silence whilst everyone remembered what Trudie had said to them about their weight. Her cruel jibes still hurt.

  ‘I’ve brought a bottle with me,’ said Maggie, brandishing the wine. ‘Thought it might help. Drown our sorrows and all that.’

  Violet grabbed some wine glasses and the drinks were poured. The girls took a gulp of wine and tried to relax. Edward shuffled in his seat awkwardly. He wasn’t allowed to drink because of his medication.

  Somebody cleared their throat but no one spoke, until Kathy could bear it no longer.

  ‘Anyone for a top-up?’ She refilled her glass, having drained it with nerves. ‘You’re not drinking?’ she said to Edward.

  He shook his head.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me saying,’ said Maggie to Edward, ‘but you don’t look very well.’

  ‘I was ill at the weekend,’ said Edward, after an awkward silence.

  ‘Oh dear,’ they all murmured.

  ‘Nothing serious, I hope,’ said Maggie, out of politeness.

  Edward opened his mouth and then closed it again. He seemed reluctant to talk but the women waited patiently. After all, misery loves company.

  ‘I had an angina attack on Friday,’ he finally told them.

  ‘That can be very painful,’ said Maggie, thinking about when her mother had had an attack the previous year.

  ‘I ended up in A and E,’ said Edward with a sigh. ‘It’s because of my weight.’

  Everyone nodded in sympathy whilst he turned a light shade of pink.

  ‘That’s nothing,’ said Maggie, feeling sorry for him. ‘The doctor says I’ve got diabetes.’

  ‘Mum!’ said Lucy. ‘You never said!’

  ‘Nothing to be proud of, love,’ replied her mother. ‘I’m on medication but I’ve got to get my act together. I’m fat, fifty and flabby.’

  ‘You’re not that bad,’ Kathy told her.

  ‘I’m pretty sure I am, but thanks.’ Maggie shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s embarrassing, isn’t it? To have to admit that you’ve eaten your way into a serious health condition.’

  Edward nodded in agreement. ‘They say I could be heading for a heart attack. How did I end up at twenty-one stone?’

  Everyone else knew. Because they were the same.

  Lucy sank back into her chair. ‘I feel really bad now,’ she said. ‘My reason for losing weight is all about vanity.’

  ‘So?’ said Kathy. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘But I do get a lot of headaches and I’m always so tired,’ said Lucy.

  ‘Me too,’ said Kathy. ‘But then, look at the size of me!’

  But nobody laughed at her forced jolliness because they were all overweight.

  ‘I get bullied too,’ Lucy told them.

  Maggie was shocked. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Lucy shrugged her shoulders. ‘There’s a group of girls that go on and on at me. You can imagine what they say.’

  Maggie put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, which were shaking with suppressed sobs.

  ‘That’s why I don’t go out much,’ Lucy said, looking directly at her mum. ‘I’m too self-conscious about how I look. I stay in because I’m so miserable. And I’m miserable because I don’t go out. I should have got my act together but I’m still fat.’

  ‘Sweetheart,’ said Kathy. ‘I’m fat, thirty and single. It doesn’t get any more desperate than that.’

  ‘Thirty’s not old,’ said Maggie.

  ‘It is on the singles scene,’ said Kathy.

  ‘But you’re lovely-looking,’ said Maggie, in full mum mode.

  Kathy gave her a grin. ‘I’m not just a sex goddess, you know. I do have eyes in my head.’ But her smile faded. ‘I’ve had so many blind dates off the internet where the bloke has done a runner. One look at me and they’re off.’ Kathy bit her lip and Maggie realised the jolly act belied a soft centre.

  ‘They were obviously idiots,’ said Edward, and then blushed.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Maggie.

  ‘I’ve always been big,’ Kathy told them. ‘But when I was taking care of my mum, I didn’t look after myself properly. Fry-ups and big tubs of ice-cream seemed the easiest thing when I finally got round to eating.’ She snorted a sad laugh. ‘Trouble is, Mum passed away in December and I’m still eating rubbish.’

  They stared into their wine glasses for a while before Lucy spoke.

  ‘What about you?’

  Violet looked up and found everyone looking at her. She blushed but realised she had to speak. After all, everyone else had revealed their innermost desolation.

  ‘I’ve always been big,’ she told them in a quiet voice. ‘Well, since I lost my parents when I was twelve. I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle. My aunt Mary was horrible but also huge. A fat, smelly weirdo obsessed with the Bible. Every plate had to be finished otherwise it was a sin, because of the starving children in the world. And it was always stodgy stuff like dumplings or pies.’

  She bit her lip, wondering if she had talked for too long.

  ‘Go on,’ said Maggie gently.

  ‘I remember we had to do some kind of project at school on our bodies and everyone had to be weighed. I’d been living with my aunt and uncle for two years and I was already three stone heavier than anyone else in the class. All the other kids laughed at me and I started getting picked on. That’s what turned me into a comfort eater and my weight problems got even worse.’

  ‘Do you still see them? Your aunt and uncle?’ asked Edward.

  Violet shook her head. ‘They died a few years ago.’ She looked around at everyone. ‘And now I’m engaged.’

  The women smiled at her.

  Violet found tears suddenly filled her eyes. ‘And I’m miserable,’ she told them, trying not to sob. ‘I can’t go down the aisle looking like this.’

  ‘Come here,’ said Maggie, putting her arm around Violet. She was now holding both Lucy and Violet in a maternal hug.

  ‘Well, those bloody shakes and cereal bars won’t do us any good,’ snapped Kathy. ‘There’s nothing but E-additives in them.’

  Maggie nodded. ‘I was thinking about going on that juice diet. That’s all healthy fruit and veg so it must be good for you. Plus you get really good results in the first week and I need to get these pounds off fast.’

  ‘I’ll join you, Mum,’ said Lucy, wiping her eyes.

  ‘There’s a whole double page spread in my magazine about it. We’ll have a look when we get home.’

  ‘I’m going to cut out the beer,’ said Edward.

  ‘I was thinking of going carb-free,’ said Kathy. ‘Everyone’s doing it.’

  Violet didn’t tell them about her failu
re to go carb-free. Perhaps Kathy would do better than she had.

  Instead, she got up and dug out the pile of slimming magazines she had bought at lunchtime.

  ‘I’ve been through them all,’ Violet told them.

  And it was true. Such was the boredom of work that she had read every page. The other staff hadn’t been impressed, but what else was there for Violet to do?

  ‘Oooh!’ said Lucy, snatching a celebrity diet magazine. ‘Look how much weight she’s lost!’

  It was yet another soap actress who had lost weight by way of a personal trainer and dietician, and was now plugging her brand-new fitness DVD.

  ‘She looks like the living dead,’ said Maggie with a sigh.

  ‘So what do we do now?’ said Lucy. ‘Shouldn’t we just join another club?’

  ‘After all the money I’ve just forked out for bloody New You!’ spluttered Kathy. ‘You must be joking.’

  ‘But I give up so quickly,’ said Lucy. ‘I can’t do it on my own.’

  ‘And that Trudie’s no help.’

  ‘Look, why don’t we still go next Tuesday,’ said Edward. ‘But maybe come back here afterwards and have a chat.’

  ‘You mean, end the evening on a positive note after Trudie’s inevitable sarcasm?’ said Kathy with a grin.

  Edward smiled back at her. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘But we won’t be having those horrible shakes and bars, will we?’ said Lucy.

  Kathy shook her head. ‘We’ll have to work out something else.’

  ‘Let’s all keep in touch by phone or text,’ said Maggie.

  So they took each other’s mobile numbers for emergency texts and then agreed to meet up the following week back at Violet’s house.

  Their secret diet club was formed.

  Chapter Seventeen

  VIOLET SAT ALONE after everyone had left. She stared at the magazines scattered across the coffee table.

  Amongst the weird and, quite frankly, dangerous diets that had been listed, she had noticed a familiar pattern begin to emerge. For women, 1,500 calories was regularly quoted as being the optimum amount for steady weight loss. For men, the calories allowed increased to 2,000.

  On top of that, anything with a fat content of over 5 g per 100 g was to be avoided on a daily basis. Less than 5 g of fat was acceptable as the body, it seemed, needed a little fat.

  So the scientific part seemed fairly easy to understand.

  The problem was that the weight loss would only be about one to two pounds per week. It sounded slow but Violet thought that perhaps she would be less hungry on this regime.

  There were other tips in the magazines too, like writing down everything you ate each day. Not for ever, just whilst losing weight. And a lot of experts recommended planning what to eat at the beginning of each week.

  Violet sank back into the sofa. Fifteen hundred calories per day. It didn’t seem much when split down into separate meals. But what to eat? It was all such a minefield. And there was so much choice. Too much.

  She picked up Isabella’s book on bridal elegance and read her thoughts on food.

  ‘You must eat three meals a day,’ she read. ‘Breakfast is important so do not miss it, even if you only have time for some fruit. Stuffing yourself with latte and cannoli later in the morning is not elegant and is terrible for the figure.’

  Violet never ate breakfast. She was always too lazy or in too much of rush in the morning. But perhaps it was time to start afresh.

  Write everything down, she remembered. So the following day she did.

  For breakfast, Violet had an over-ripened, medium-sized banana. It was brown and a bit yucky but it did keep the hunger pangs at bay. And it was only 140 calories.

  Later at her desk, she bit down on a Twix bar, scowling; 245 wasted calories and it was only half past ten in the morning.

  It was the boredom that had tempted her, made her think constantly of food and nothing else. No wonder everyone else in the department was so slim. They were all burning off calories, scurrying around, being busy.

  She took another bite. She was more bored than the most bored person in the most boring job. She picked up the phone, forwarded the call, put down the phone. Ad infinitum.

  She thought back to Isabella’s words she had read the previous evening. ‘If you get hungry between meals, eat fruit. No biscuits, crisps or such rubbish. They are common. Fruit and vegetables are marvellous for the skin. Who wants to be a bride with bad skin?’

  Violet took the last bite of the Twix before throwing away the wrapper. She had made her decision. No more chocolate. She had to do this.

  ‘Right,’ said Mark, coming to stand at the end of Violet’s desk. ‘I’m bored. What gossip have you got for me?’

  Violet stared up at him. ‘Not much, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It’s early yet,’ he said, smiling at her before looking across at Anthony. ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Anthony, a little too quickly.

  Mark rolled his eyes. ‘Please tell me that you haven’t hacked into the payroll database again.’

  Anthony became a little rattled. ‘I’m only trying to prove how easy it is.’

  Mark muttered something his breath which Violet couldn’t quite catch.

  Wendy and Julie returned to their desks, clutching their hot cups of coffee.

  ‘Where’s mine?’ asked Mark.

  ‘In the machine,’ replied Julie, sitting down.

  ‘Sometimes I have trouble remembering why I employ you,’ said Mark. But he was smiling as he walked away.

  ‘I have trouble remembering why I work here,’ Julie told the team. ‘But I’m pretty certain it isn’t because of the large salary.’

  Violet couldn’t help smiling. She found she enjoyed the easy banter between her work colleagues.

  At lunchtime, she visited a bookshop and bought a book that listed the calories of every single food imaginable.

  The information in the book was terrifying. A Starbuck’s blueberry muffin was a whopping 460 calories. With her usual grande latte at 262 calories, that was almost half her daily allowance of calories in what she had previously classed as a snack!

  A typical Friday night takeaway of fish and chips was 900 calories. Her Saturday night sweet and sour Chinese was 700 calories. Her weekend breakfast of croissants and jam didn’t bear thinking about when a standard size croissant was 215 calories. And it didn’t even fill her up, Violet realised. She wondered about her average weekend calorie total. It made her feel ill.

  Everything she had thought about food was rubbish. It needed a radical rethink. She needed to be much more careful with her calories otherwise there would be none left for dinner at the end of each day.

  After the bookshop, she went into Marks & Spencer. She didn’t dare visit the cake aisle to see how many calories her favourite chocolate gateau was. Plus it would be just her luck to run into Mark. Instead she grabbed a healthy 259-calorie sandwich. It usually required crisps and a Coke to go with it but she managed to hold herself together and picked up a piece of fruit instead.

  On the way home after work, Violet went to the supermarket to stock up. It was a bit of a scrum at that time of the evening but she needed healthy meals and the corner shop wasn’t much good for that.

  Normally she grabbed the food in a frenzy and then headed straight to the tills. This time she read all the ingredients, checking the calories and fat content. It took her nearly an hour to find everything she needed.

  In the queue for the checkouts, Violet noticed how full her shopping trolley was. Yes, it was all ready meals, diet soft drinks, yoghurts and fruit but it still seemed a lot, considering she was on a diet. How was she going to lose weight eating all of this?

  She was still aiming to stick to 1,500 calories a day. She had worked out on the computer during the long stretches of boredom at work that she had actually been consuming 3,500 calories on a typical day. Gulp. If Violet had been a marathon runner that would have been OK. But she bare
ly moved so it was just massing around her stomach and hips.

  Now she was getting organised and was aiming for 250 calories for breakfast, 350 for lunch and 450 for dinner. With a couple of pieces of fruit, some milk and a low-calorie dessert each day, that was it. Violet prayed it would be enough.

  That evening, she waited for the microwave to ping that her low-calorie meal was ready. With three minutes left to go, she idly opened the fridge door and stared in.

  One idea that was commonly repeated in the magazines and on the internet was to clear the fridge and kitchen cupboards of anything that wasn’t healthy. Violet looked in the fridge. It looked like food heaven but she knew it was dragging her downwards towards her current hell.

  She grabbed a dustbin liner. She had to take control. She had to start to lose weight properly. And sensibly.

  She began to shove all the food into the bag. In went a glorious cheesecake. Some blocks of heavenly cheese. It was heartbreaking but it had to be done. She wanted a life with Sebastian. And if that meant doing without, then she would just have to cope. Violet tried not to cry.

  She would have kept any healthy food back, of course. But it turned out there wasn’t any apart from the fruit and ready meals she had just bought.

  She stared at the half-empty fridge and closed the door. Then she opened a cupboard and began to add all the crisps, cakes and biscuits to the bin. She kept going until the shelves were empty and only a large packet of peanuts remained. They were protein so that should be OK.

  Violet closed the door, opened it once more and added the peanuts to the overflowing bin bag. Who was she kidding?

  Her microwave pinged ready. It wasn’t the worst thing she had eaten but it was pretty miserable. Stodgy enough to keep the hunger at bay but not very satisfying. Healthy, but she didn’t feel any nutrients rushing around her body.

  After dinner, Violet continued to vet the whole kitchen. From cooking ingredients – all that cooking chocolate had to go – to the biscuit barrel, which held on tight to its buttery shortbread before finally releasing its hold. Nothing was sacred. Every food with any fat went in the bin. Violet was in a food frenzy.

  She tied up the two large bags of food waste and put them in the front garden, ready for the refuse collection the following Monday. Then she quickly closed the front door and went back into the lounge.