You know how sometimes, if you say things often enough, people latch on to the idea?
Like the way my father and his friends talked about money all day to my uncle when they were away on a cycling holiday, and then that night my uncle said, in his sleep “big cheques are the worst when you have to write them”.
So, anyway, one of the things I say often, and usually in tones of great disgust, is “if you can’t tell me what a calorie is, you shouldn’t be counting them.”
Well. J called me today to tell me that one of his managers was going on a diet. The conversation went something like this:
J: [manager]’s on a diet.
R: Well, tell her the BBC said she’ll get flu AND DIE!!!
J: I can’t, I’ve already told her that she can’t count calories unless she can tell me what they are.
R: [laughs like a fool] And could she?
J: Um… well, you know how when you’re not quite sure about what you’re saying, and it works better if you believe it than if you don’t?
J: Yeah, she didn’t really believe it. She tried to tell me that they were like… little… balls… of fat….
R: Hmm. Do you know what they are?
J: Well, you know how when you’re not quite sure about what you’re saying….
J:…. a little thing… a unit… of energy…???
R: Yay! [pauses] But you still can’t go on a diet.
R: According to the BBC, you’ll get flu, AND DIE!!!!
The whole diet-in-winter=flu=death vs diet-in-summer=sexaaaay thing is bothering me somewhat, as anybody who’s been on the Sheffield Fems site recently will be able to testify. Not that I’m gratuitously self-referencing at all.