So
how did <that> happen? Friends, colleagues and family are fascinated by
me performing this diet miracle, without even seeming to try. It was
simple: I was hypnotised. Yes really. But mine weren’t the actions of a
desperate woman, willing to try any quack theory to squeeze into a pair
of skinny Radcliffe jeans. I've always been curvy and proud, but
recently I realised that I’d become a bit <too> curvy and a bit less
proud. My sister got married, and, on seeing the photos, I felt uneasy
about what seemed to be my new role as the 'chubby, bubbly, older
sister'. I was eating what I perceived to be a healthy diet – no junk
food, no ready meals, very few takeaways or sugary snacks. However,
portion-wise, I was over-enthusiastic, and had carbs with every meal.
I'd be swooning by 11am if I didn't have toast at breakfast and didn't
believe I could survive the night without carbs at dinner. I was also a
big social eater - if I was out to dinner, I'd eat bread for as long as
it was in the basket and I'd eat everything I was offered at a party. I
used starch as a sedative - if anxious or sad about work or men, or even
just bored during a night in, I was a sucker for the blissed-out feeling
you get after a bowl of pasta. It sunk in that I was well over 11 stone
(I'm 5'6). Then I was invited to meet hypnotherapist Marisa Peer as part
of the publicity campaign for her book. I didn't even realise that
Marisa was a hypnotherapist at first – I assumed she was a dietician.
During the seminar she didn't whip out a pendulum and ask me to look
into her eyes, Little Britain-style. But the way she talked about the
psychology of eating struck a massive chord – and the effects were
immediate.
The most
important thing Marisa stressed was that you don't have to change your
personality to be thinner: becoming a boring control freak isn’t
necessary. She believes that you make the decision to eat therefore you
have the power to change your behaviour. For example, she explained that
you don't have a fat bum. You have a bum and then you chose to eat food
with fat in it. The fat isn't part of you, or your personality. It can
be got rid of. Also, once you do begin to slim then you should get the
credit for changes in your body, rather than letting a magic diet pill
or surgical procedure take the glory. In other words, the power to lose
weight is yours. But what about fun? I asked. I don’t want to be the
girl at the party miserably letting the canapé tray pass her by time
after time. She pointed out that you rarely remember the canapés you eat
at parties as they give you such fleeting pleasure (it’s true, I can’t
recall an event that was rendered more pleasurable by the nibbles on
offer). But you do remember looking and feeling slim in certain clothes,
and you remember the compliments you receive for months or even years
afterwards. Therefore it's a small trade-off to make.
Marisa
was very specific about wheat and dairy being the two biggest sins. She
gave us flour and water and let us make a disgusting gloopy paste, with
which we stuck pieces of paper to the wall. Then she said that this is
what’s stuck to our insides when we eat pasta and bread. She also talked
about how cow’s milk is designed for calves – its function is to help
young animals with growth spurts, so no wonder dairy makes humans expand
too. She referred to wheat as ‘glue’ and dairy as 'mucus' for the rest
of the seminar. She was cunning about constantly reiterating that
nothing was actually banned. We could eat whatever we wanted, she said,
if we thought it was really worth it. The most jaw-dropping moment was
when she burned a crisp in front of us. She said that the black plume of
smoke was chemicals burning off it, and, as it smoldered, she collected
a whole teaspoon of fat that dripped off it. Then, she asked if we would
seriously consider sitting in front of the TV eating bits of potato and
teaspoons of oil. At the time, I just thought she was a bit of a crazy
drama queen, and left with one eyebrow cynically raised. Still, I went
home and read the book cover to cover.
Later, I
went back to see Marisa to try out one-to-one hypnosis. It’s not cheap
at £225 per session, but it’s less than the three-month membership I
recently paid for a gym I never use. At first we talked about my
attitude to food and my body: what I loved, what I craved and what I
felt bad about eating. She asked questions about my family’s eating
habits, and how I felt as a teenager when I developed my curves. She was
specific about what my goals were, letting me make the choice about what
I was aiming for – namely to lose 1.5 stone without having to change my
life beyond recognition. After 45 minutes we moved onto the hypnosis. I
laid down on her (very elegant) couch, while she asked me to close my
eyes and count to 10 while imagining walking down some steps. I was
aware that I was “under” (my body was entirely still and relaxed, but my
brain remained active) and that I was talking lucidly. Marisa asked me
to remember key moments from my childhood which had been influenced by
my love of all things starchy. I told her about things like my mum
taking me to the shop to chose biscuits for school and how happy and
cosy this made me feel. She then asked me to repeat some phrases. They
were sentences such as 'I love this way of eating, it works for me' and
'I love my body'. There was – crucially for me – no pseudo-spiritual
babble and the emphasis of our conversation was on health first and
weight-loss second.
Initially, I didn’t think that our session had had much effect. I felt
completely normal, and joked with friends about it. But after a couple
of days I realized I hadn’t had any wheat or dairy at all. I just hadn’t
felt like it. I had scrambled eggs or fruit at breakfast, rather than my
usual stack of toast with a glass of milk. I didn’t think about cakes or
biscuits at all. I found myself discovering which local cafés stocked
soya milk for my coffee. A week later, I consciously decided to buy some
corn pasta. By this stage, I'd lost 4 pounds and began telling people I
didn’t eat wheat or dairy any more. When offered a cup of tea at a
meeting, I happily chose to have juice instead of a milky drink. At no
stage did this feel like a big lifestyle choice, it just felt like a
natural thing to do.
A month
later I was nine pounds lighter, and the beauty of the process was that
it wasn’t in any way difficult – willpower just wasn’t part of the
equation. I listened to the 20 minute CD that came with the book, which
reinforced my new-found attitude. Even my three classic key carb-fest
opportunities - hangovers, boy traumas and visiting my dad's house – did
not derail me. I popped a couple of slices of rye bread in my bag when I
went to stay with my dad and I learned the magic hangover-healing powers
of bananas and avocados. The fact that I was starting to feel so much
better – about how I looked and how I felt – didn’t seem worth
sacrificing. Before long, I was starting to exercise more as well, as it
didn’t seem quite such an effort to get off the sofa when not busy
digesting bowlfuls of cheesy pasta.
I hit a
plateau at about nine pounds, and started to panic that I’d done as much
as I could. Was that it? Time to give up? I could only just get into a
size 12! The book suggested that if I felt demoralized I should go to
the supermarket and pick up the equivalent of what I’d lost in produce.
Off I went to the veg aisle, where I realized that nine pounds of
carrots is actually really, really heavy. While in the shop, I walked
past the biscuit aisle, but instead of intense yearning, I just found
myself thinking ‘Oh yeah, biscuits, I used to eat them’.
After
that moment of reinvigoration, I found myself eating well and losing
weight again. I’m never hungry, and I always enjoy what I’m eating, but
my attitude is transformed. I also feel excited to discover that
self-discipline and a sense of spontaneity can both be parts of my
personality. I used to be unable to throw away food if I had gone to the
effort or expense of cooking or buying it. It seemed so wasteful. But
the book pointed out that if I am full, the food is wasted whether I
throw it in the bin or throw it in myself. I no longer feel bad leaving
food in a restaurant if I am full. In fact, I deliberately leave a
little on my plate now, just to prove that I can.
Now I
weigh just under ten stone: the weight I’ve wanted to be for several
years. When I went to a party last week (I still drink, but I’m a
cheaper date now that I weigh less), lots of people praised the fact I
was looking so good. I sneakily kept it to myself that I’d found it
incredibly easy, preferring to let them congratulate my rigid
self-discipline. I now run four times a week, and am training to do the
London Marathon. And I feel more confident around men, and have received
more male attention because of it. It's as if a chunk of mental energy
has been freed up by not having to dress/sit/dance tactically in order
to compensate for body-insecurities. Today I was queuing for a coffee in
a cafe and was momentarily mesmerised by the pastries display. But I
walked away. It’s like missing sex with a boyfriend who was cruel to
you: the trade-off isn’t worth the fleeting moment of pleasure. I simply
don’t miss pastries, biscuits or pasta because when I look in the mirror
my reflection looks like someone I want to be. Healthy, slim – and still
lots of fun.
You Can Be Thin: The Ultimate Programme to End Dieting... Forever (includes free CD), (Sphere, £9.99) by Marisa Peer.