Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy(15)

10 a.m. Maybe not. Twitter followers 0.

Thursday 28 June 2012

159lb, pounds lost 16!

OMG. Have lost 16 lbs! The strange thing is, where hundreds and hundreds of diets over the years have failed or lasted five days, this one is actually . . .




. . . working! It is something about going every week and being weighed and having my fat-to-muscle ratio measured, and knowing I can’t cheat and tell myself am on the Hay Diet when I want a baked potato and the Weightwatchers diet when I want a Mars bar. Also just found I can fit into dress I had before I was pregnant (though admittedly tent-shaped) and that has whipped me into a frenzy of optimism.

Thursday 12 July 2012

155lb, pounds lost 20, pages of screenplay written 10, Twitter followers 0.

9.15 p.m. Oh God, I’m so lonely. Right. Am going to really get going on Twitter.

9.20 p.m. Dalai Lama has 2 million followers and yet he follows no one. That is right. A god cannot follow others. Wonder if he actually tweets himself or does he get his assistant to do it?

9.30 p.m. Complete meltdown. Lady Gaga has 33 million followers! Why am I even bothering? Twitter is giant popularity contest which I am doomed to be the worst at.

9.35 p.m. Just texted Tom explaining that Lady Gaga has 33 million followers and I have zero followers.

9.40 p.m. <You’re supposed to follow people. Otherwise how are they supposed to know you’re on Twitter?>

<But the Dalai Lama follows no one.>

<You’re not a god or Lady Gaga, dear. You have to be proactive. Follow me: @TomKat37.>

10 p.m. @TomKat37 has 878 followers. How did he manage that?

Friday 13 July 2012

10.15 p.m. I’ve got a follower! You see. People are starting to notice my style.

10.16 p.m. Oh. <@TomKat37 You see? You’ve got a follower. Now keep going.>

Is just Tom.

Tuesday 17 July 2012

152lb. Twitter followers 1.

Noon. Glorious and historic day. Just went shopping to H&M and asked the assistant to bring me a 16 and she looked at me as if I was mad and said, ‘You need a 14.’

I scoffed, ‘I’ll never fit into a 14,’ and she brought it, and it fitted. I am a 14!

And I have a follower! Am practically viral.

Thursday 26 July 2012

149lb, pages of screenplay 25, Twitter followers 1.

Yayy! Have broken through 150lb glass floor (though may have been through standing on one leg and slightly leaning on washbasin).

Also am on total screenwriting roll. Have decided to call my screenplay The Leaves in His Hair, which is Hedda’s most famous line in Hedda Gabbler. Even though it is only famous because nobody understands what she means.

Monday 30 July 2012

148lb, Twitter followers 50,001.

9.15 p.m. I’ve got another follower! But a weird follower. It’s a follower with 50,000 followers.

9.35 p.m. What is it? It’s just sort of hovering there like a spaceship, watching silently. Feel I ought to fire on it or something.

9.40 p.m. It’s called XTC Communications.

10 p.m. Just tweeted whole weird-follower scenario to Tom, who tweeted back.

<@TomKat37 @JoneseyBJ It’s a spambot, baby. It’s just marketing.>

10.30 p.m. Tee hee. Just replied:

<@JoneseyBJ @TomKat37 I already have a spambot. You should have seen it today in the harsh rays of the early morning sun.>

Tuesday 31 July 2012

Twitter followers 50,001.

2 p.m. FIFTY THOUSAND AND ONE FOLLOWERS. Feeling fabulous! Just bought lip plumper! It feels a bit funny but actually seems to work.

3 p.m. Wonder if put lip plumper on hands will get fat fingers?

Wednesday 1 August 2012

Twitter followers 1 again.

7 a.m. Humph. Spambot has just, like, gone, taking its 50,000 bloody followers with it. Gaah! Kids are awake.

9.15 p.m. Will just check Twitter.

9.20 p.m. Tom has ‘retweeted’ my spambot tweet and seven followers have come.

9.50 p.m. What should I do now, though? Should I greet them? Welcome them?

9.51 p.m. Follow them?

10 p.m. Paralyzed into silence by social-media embarrassment. Maybe will not do Twitter any more.

Thursday 2 August 2012

142lb, pounds lost 33, muscles grown 5% (whatever that means).

1 p.m. Giddily euphoric! Just went to Obesity Clinic and nurse says I am now ahead of target and model patient. Then went to H&M again to check size and am a 12.

Am thin and not a heron! Am Uma Thurman! Am Jemima Khan!

2 p.m. Just nipped into Marks & Spencer to purchase celebratory chocolate mousse cake and have eaten whole thing like a polar bear taking great swipes out with his paw.

Friday 3 August 2012

145lb (emergency).

10 a.m. Chocolate mousse cake has, I swear, moved directly from my mouth to my stomach and is just sitting there, under my skin, like the foil bag inside a cheap wine-box. Must abandon screenplay, career, etc. and go to gym.

Noon. Am never going to gym again. Am never going to lose the weight, never and don’t bloody well care. Was consumed with rage whilst lying on front with bum in air failing to lift weight bar with ankles. Looked round to see everyone contorted ludicrously in machines like Hieronymous Bosch painting.

Why are bodies so difficult to manage? Why? ‘Oh, oh, look at me, I’m a body, I’m going to splurge fat unless you, like, STARVE yourself and go to undignified TORTURE CENTRES and don’t eat anything nice or get drunk.’ Hate diet. Is all fault of SOCIETY. Am just going to be old and fat and eat whatever I like and NEVER HAVE SEX AGAIN and WHEEL MY FAT AROUND ON A TROLLEY.