I hate dieting, I really, really hate it. And I know all the guff that health gurus spout about not having to diet, just having to eat more healthily, but we all know it's the same thing. If I naturally wanted to chow down on pulses, lean protein and veggies then I wouldn't have a spare tyre to rival the Michelin man's, so eating healthily adds up to a diet for me.
Ever since I had the twins and therefore lost the excuse of pregnancy for my wobbly belly I have been looking the other way and pretending that I hadn't noticed the fact that the bump has hardly reduced since I had two whopping babies whipped out. I simply don't want to cut out scoffing my face in favour of actually using my treadmill or hopping on the Wii fit for a workout.
Given the choice between an hour of sweating like a pig, turning a fetching shade of beetroot and feeling as if I have gone 20 rounds with Mike Tyson, or slobbing on the sofa with a big steaming pile of fish and chips, well my decision is a no brainer.
I have lost weight in the past, through the usual tried and tested methods of eating food that I really don't like because it isn't packed with fat and sugar, and doing lots of exercise, which I don't really mind but find hard to fit into my day. But every time, given the least excuse, I will have my hand elbow deep in a packet of ready salted and mysteriously my waist measurement starts expand again.
My other half has recently lost loads of weight in a very sensible fashion, he simply cut down on his portion size and the weight has fallen off him, and he claims not to have suffered too much in the process. The thing is although he likes his food and did have the belly to prove it, he's not a total pig like me. Even when he was more of a porker, he would always eat just one chocolate after dinner and rarely indulged in snacks, whereas I find myself snorting sweeties down as I slouch on the sofa of an evening, can't resist that mid afternoon pick me up of cake or crisps and am magnetically drawn to children's leftovers.
I still maintain that the weather outside is too cold to embark on a major self denial exercise, but sadly I think the time has come to cut back a little. When even the outsize trousers are straining to do up, and you are ordering sizes that are outside the teens the moment has come to just say no.
I am officially not happy about this turn of events, but if I can motivate myself to do a bit more and eat a bit less, hopefully come the summer you won't see reports on the news of me being harpooned on a holiday beach.
Wish me luck.