Eight weeks in

Another mad dash weigh-in. This time I'm doing it a couple of days early, on Friday morning.

I'm about to get into a car with my wife and parents and hurtle down to Brighton for the weekend for my brother's Civil Partnership ceremony.

Yes, I accept that for some people there might be one unsettling concept in that last sentence. Don't worry yourselves - spending a weekend with my parents will indeed probably be a trial, but I'm sure we'll cope.

So what joys will the scales have for me this morning?


Bloody hell. I've stayed the same. Is this the dreaded plateau?

Marathon runners have the wall, a barrier after so many miles that ends many attempts as the body and mind gang up on them. The plateau is the version for weight-loss attempts. It's not unusual to find that after a month or so of steady losses it gets harder and harder to maintain constant progress - people go weeks or months without seeing any change at all. I actually had this happen to me when I tried this last year on WeightWatchers - for six whole weeks I saw exactly the same numbers every week.

Perhaps the metabolism slows down as the body starts to hang on to every calorie it can. I don't know. But the timing is lousy. If it wasn't for the charity target I wouldn't be too worried - one thing I've learned is that weight in itself is just a number as I've started to enjoy feeling healthier. From October it won't even matter - I'll keep going with the programme and see where I end up - but between now and then I have to get on this bloody machine every week and look at the numbers.

I'm not feeling too optimistic at the moment. Hopefully Brighton will take my mind off things. Shepherding two 70-something parents certainly will.