Approaching his tenth week, Mrs H decided that it was time to weigh the boy again, since he was suggested at his last visit to the doctor that he was a touch on the light side and in need of beefing up.
The kitchen scales are now too small to hold even him, so it was a question of me getting on the bathroom scales with him and doing the maths. He now weighs a stately 5kg. Hardly Big Daddy territory, but no rake either, which is a relief.
What came as a shock though was that he has now put on almost exactly the same weight that I have over the same period. When I came back from the Spartathlon I weighed 82kg, and have been putting on weight ever since. Not that it hasn’t been fun, but as I look at the boy plumped up in his rocker I can’t help but wonder just how I could fit – quite literally – all of his weight inside of me.
So, the time has come to turn the tide. There are six months until the London Marathon, for which I have serious plans – soon to be announced – and carrying that extra baggage isn’t going to do me any favours. My brother-in-law took on the Dukan Diet, with dramatic results. However, the only diet I have ever tried is lentils and fish, and it left me bored stiff within a month. It worked though.
The perfect diet that lets us eat (and drink) as we want is, of course, the holy grail, but if anyone has suggestions for how to combine a lot of miles with a diet that doesn’t end in tears, I would be most receptive.