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Clash of the Big Ones

Maggie Edge, Accent Magazine

Accent's Fat Lad and Fat Lass go tread to tread in an effort to lose those unwanted pounds...

Fat, far from being a feminist issue, has extended its obsession to the male sector of Accent's office and has now become an all consuming (or should that be a non-consuming) agenda.

I was quite happy to engage in the familiar female banter of bums looking big and justifying sugar as an essential energy boost, until MG (known toAccent readers as the loveable Mike Grahamslaw) but to us in the office as Mighty Girth, decided to throw down the oven glove.

His idea was novel and hilarious - instead of complaining about our fat, why not become fit and slim through exercise and healthy eating - what a ridiculous notion. But strangely I heard myself saying "great idea." Had I become possessed?

In typical Mike fashion, the programme was set up. Personal trainers organised for us both at BodyGuards in Jesmond, as well as a sensible eating plan and weekly weigh in.

I felt physically sick at the thought of it - but decided bulimia was not an option - bullying was probably the only thing likely to tear me away from my couch potato lifestyle and into the gym.

I must admit a personal trainer sounded quite LA and I had a mental picture of me gently jogging along a deserted beach with my Adonis trainer by my side - time to wake-up Maggie.

My initial fitness assessment at BodyGuards told me that five minutes on the treadmill was quite enough thank you, but Nick my trainer, a lovely (thin) lad from Leeds, would be entertaining no notions of slacking, he is single-minded in his determination to get me in shape.

Unfortunately he is not succumbing to my suggestion of monetary gain to go easy on Mikes training!

So the competition is on big style.

Never being one to play fair, I've organised several restaurant reviews for Mike (mainly chip shops) but, sneakily, he has been choosing the healthy options from the menus and drinking water. Previously unheard of from the legendary connoisseur of saturates. Still early days.

Meanwhile, Tescos on Acorn Road have had to quadruple their order of V8 juice to keep my vitamin levels up.

After a week of tortuous exercise and lots of lettuce we are put to the test in the big weigh-in. I deliberately dressed in the skimpiest outfit possible - a light cotton dress weighs only 1lb - but find yet again that MG has the upper hand. He arrives for the weigh-in sporting a Robbie Williams haircut that must have shed at least 6lbs from his barnet. He then precedes to remove his belt - luckily he goes no further.

The verdict: 5lbs weight loss to Mike and 3lbs to me. I smile sweetly through gritted teeth and offer my congratulations but I am secretly organising some extra exercise classes for me and slipping full fat milk into his coffee.

Who said cheaters never prosper?


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