This is a sample of The Echidna newsletter sent out each weekday morning. To sign up for FREE, go to theechidna.com.au
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
He never leaves my side so I guess loyalty is one of his few redeeming qualities. But I could happily get by without his companionship. He makes me sick, to be honest. I'm revolted by his very presence. Not to mention deeply ashamed.
I hope you never get to meet him. That would be so embarrassing for me. He has the manners of a pig and the charm of a starving crow feasting on week-old roadkill. I keep him well hidden when visitors come to our house. But in those awkward silences that punctuate social conversations I'm sure they can hear him breathing heavily. Slobbering, even.
I call him Fat Boy. I know that's a nasty and inappropriate name to give someone these days. But Fat Boy and I have been together for almost 60 years and I've loathed him all my life. I've just never found a way to rid myself of his obnoxious presence.
People are always surprised to learn that Fat Boy and I inhabit the same body. I'm tall and pretty lean these days. Even close friends can't fathom how I've kept him locked away for so long. Discipline and determination, I say. I know too well what Fat Boy is capable of achieving when he's allowed off the leash.
I'm confiding in you because lately Fat Boy has become more aggressive. Could be the cold weather. But he's on the prowl and I fear the next time I drive past McDonald's he's going to take control and steer us straight toward the drive-thru.
It began this morning when Fat Boy woke me up early. That's not unusual. He often stirs long before the alarm, his stomach growling after a night dreaming of double beef and bacon hamburgers with extra cheese, sides of crisp French fries lashed with tomato sauce and mayonnaise and giant bowls of battered onion rings resting in ponds of warm oil.
But this morning I could hear him chuckling, too. Fat Boy was celebrating. He'd just heard the news that the giant weight loss company Jenny Craig had filed for bankruptcy in the US while its Australian and New Zealand operations had gone into voluntary administration.
"That's one down, plenty more to go!" I heard him shout gleefully, his chins wobbling like a rickety staircase in an earthquake. Such a smug little bastard. Fat Boy hates weight-loss organisations with a passion. He regards them as the enemy - purse-lipped puritans waging war on all his hedonistic lusts and desires.
"What's wrong with a little fat?" he asked as I climbed wearily out of bed. "We should be celebrating. Indulge yourself, fella. You're boring when you're skinny."
Maybe he was right, I thought. My resolve weakened. But just as I was about to surrender by making a double ham and triple egg and cheese toasted sandwich for breakfast, with a side of reheated pasta leftovers and a bucket of chocolate milk, Fat Boy burped so violently the walls shook.
"Just making a little room," he said.
"That's enough from you," I told him. "Two thin slices of apple and a teaspoon of yoghurt will suffice this morning. And if you bitch once more about the herbal tea I'll lock you up for a month."
I blame Fat Boy for everything that goes wrong in my life. He's the reason I have to swallow a statin tablet every morning to control my soaring cholesterol levels. He's why my doctor always makes the same lame observation that taking my blood pressure is like watching an express elevator speeding straight toward the penthouse level of a skyscraper.
I know I should accept some of the responsibility. I admit that for many years I let Fat Boy run amok. I just didn't have the discipline in my 20s and 30s to deny him those indulgent evenings of battered fish and chips, deep-fried dim sims and pizzas loaded with cheese and meat.
When he wanted to wash it all down with beer and bourbon with full strength Coke, I shrugged and said go ahead.
When he insisted we conclude these fast food orgies by inhaling a couple of calming cigarettes, I was too full to disagree. By the time I summoned the energy to fight back I weighed 115kg.
It took years to lose that weight. But here's the thing about Fat Boy and I. We're doomed to stick together.
God knows he needs my discipline. And I need his nauseating presence to remind me of the person I never want to be again.
HAVE YOUR SAY: Any decent dieting tips you'd like to share? Have you tried Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers? Do you struggle with your weight or have you given up? Email us: echidna@theechidna.com.au
SHARE THE LOVE: If you enjoy The Echidna, forward it to a friend so they can sign up, too.
IN CASE YOU MISSED IT:
- Treasurer Jim Chalmers has assured that eligibility for the NDIS won't be tightened, despite billions of dollars in savings being unveiled for the service in the federal budget. Tuesday's budget revealed the government intends to make $74 billion worth of savings for the NDIS over the next 10 years, following a decision to impose an 8 per cent growth cap on the service by July 2026.
- British institutions in possession of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander artefacts have been put on notice following the passing of historic Path to Treaty legislation in Queensland. Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk believes there's evidence of treaties and demands for treaties "held under lock and key" at the British Library in London.
- Australia's top-selling car maker Toyota is facing a green revolt in its ranks after three large investors asked the company to reveal its "climate-related lobbying activities" and claimed it was missing rising electric vehicle sales. The proposal, issued by three European investment firms, comes one week after Toyota's local sales boss argued it was still "too early" for electric cars to replace petrol and diesel vehicles, and less than three weeks before consultation on Australia's first vehicle emissions limit ends.
THEY SAID IT: "People who are overweight don't want unsolicited advice. Guess what. We know we're fat. We live in homes with mirrors." - Al Roker
YOU SAID IT: The founder of the Mother's Day tradition was so sickened by its commercialisation, she spent the rest of her life campaigning against it.
Samantha says: "Mother's Day has always been commercialised. The best idea was the Mother's Day stall in schools, allowing the child to choose something for Mum. I always taught my boys that a hug and an 'I love you' was all I needed."
"My mother passed away when I was eight years old," says Linda. "The making of Mother's Day cards through primary school created immense sadness and anxiety for me as did singing the Mother's Day song at assembly. For many years I believed that I had done something wrong by not having my mother living in my house, fearful of being different or seen as 'other'. It made me a lifelong advocate for inclusion and acceptance, but it was a painful lesson aggravated by commercialism I could have skipped. My grandchildren, however, still go to the Mother's Day stall at school and I can only hope that it is being managed with sensitivity and other options are made available for kids who have a different shaped family. I remember giving the cake of soap I bought to an old lady (probably my age now) at the bus stop on the way home. I applaud the opt-out marketing approach of some places."
Helen says: "My sister and I were raised by a mum who was so against Mother's Day that she would not allow us to celebrate it in any way. Like your mother, she told us there were 365 days of the year to celebrate our mothers. I married a lovely man whose mum did celebrate Mother's Day. I could not give my dear mother-in-law a gift on that day without giving one to my own mum. I explained to my mum why I had done so. I raised my own daughters the same way we were raised. Now they are adults who live in different towns. My greatest pleasure on Mother's Day is to receive a phone call from them. Much more meaningful than a gift, at least in my opinion."
"I was turned off by Mother's Day when I worked in a department store in my teens," says Jen from Melbourne. "The whole thing was 'sell, sell, sell'; they'd get special products in, they'd advertise what to buy to make your mum happy - pressure, pressure and more pressure. A simple card and a big hug has been how I commemorate the day since then."
Therese says: "Beautiful words about your mum, John, and so true about the way Mother's Day is treated. It is way too commercial and so is Father's Day. I lost my mum four weeks ago and it feels like an eternity. We lost her mum the day after Mother's Day in 1987. I expect this Mother's Day is going to be really tough for me."
"Thanks, John, for a great reflection on Mother's Day," says Bruce. I read that Anna Jarvis saw the day as a tribute to her own mother, Ann Jarvis, who was an activist from the mid 19th century organising women to campaign for improved living conditions and for peace, caring for the wounded on both sides in the American Civil War. For a few years June 2 was celebrated as 'Mother's Day for Peace' but the establishment didn't recognise it."
Liz shares this incredible story: "It will be 10 years this June since we lost our amazing mother. One of her great gifts was the art of storytelling and we came to know them all well. One of my favourites was the story of how it was decided when she was 13, that she was very bright and should continue her schooling. So in 1941, as World War II was raging, she was sent on a two-week voyage on a sailing boat, in the middle of the South Pacific, to the main island of her South Pacific group. It was the second boat she had ever seen, and she left behind the 150 people she had ever known. Her future took her to many places, many adventures and many stories. My mother's generation began in an utterly different world and yet, this amazing generation adapted seamlessly (mostly) as their world changed. Such resilience! Seventy years after she left, she returned with my sister and me and our children. We were so lucky to have had this trip with her as a vile cancer ripped her from us 18 months later. I shed a tear for her this morning, as I still often do. We were so incredibly lucky to have had such a gentle, wise and kind mother and grandmother."