A Season of Hopes and Dreams - Lynsey James

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branch of Carb Counters, Marjorie is an expert.

      ‘Well, off you trot to the scales! I hope we don’t have to announce two gains in a row for you. That really would be tragic.’

      A quick smile and Marjorie’s off in search of her next victim. I exchange withering glances with Linda and join the queue for the scales. Up ahead, I spot my best friend, Emma. At least there’s a friendly face here, I say to myself. I reach out and tap her shoulder. Her face breaks into a smile when she sees me.

      ‘You made it!’ She wriggles out of the tightly packed queue and comes to join me. ‘I thought you might’ve been in the café having a cheeky slice of cake after last week!’

      A quick flashback to Marjorie announcing to the whole group that I’d gained two pounds zings its way into my thoughts. For a brief moment, I remember the feeling of humiliation that washed over me, along with the little voice that whispered you’ve failed.

      ‘Cleo?’ Emma’s voice goes from a distorted murmur to clear and crisp in a matter of seconds, pulling me out of my thoughts.

       Quick, figure out what she was saying!

      ‘Oh, er… I dunno, a couple of pounds hopefully,’ I say, hoping it sounds right. Judging by the look on my best friend’s face, I’ve missed the mark.

      ‘I was asking if you were still coming down the pub tonight!’ She giggles and shakes her head. ‘You really are in Cloud Cuckoo Land today, aren’t you? Is it because you got the invite too?’

      I frown. ‘What invite?’

      Before Emma can answer, it’s her turn to face the dreaded scales. She flashes me a smile, crosses her fingers and hops on. As I watch her, I feel a stab of envy I haven’t felt for a while. She truly doesn’t care about the number she sees in front of her; the only reason she joined Carb Counters was to support me. Blessed with a naturally slender figure, she’s never had to worry about her weight like I have. Never had to wonder if people are looking at her with twisted humour or utter revulsion, or if any man who approaches her is doing it for a joke or to win a bet with his friends.

      Sometimes, just sometimes, I’d really like to be Emma Wallis instead of Cleopatra Jones.

      My time on the scales is a successful one: three pounds off. As soon as I see it, I feel a little knot of worry unclench in my chest. Sometimes, it feels pathetic that my life hinges on a digital scale’s reading, but every pound I manage to lose brings me closer to the person I want to be. And, more importantly, takes me further away from who I used to be.

      Talking in a circle is easily my favourite part of Carb Counters. Although it’s a nightmare if you’ve had a bad week, it’s really inspiring to hear everyone’s stories and see their progress throughout the sessions.

      First up is Sheila and, although I can’t hear it, I know everyone is groaning inwardly. She’s joined, left and rejoined multiple times and, despite openly admitting she doesn’t follow the plan and eats her body weight in sausage rolls, can’t understand why she isn’t losing weight. We’ve all tried to give her friendly advice, but it falls on deaf ears every time.

      This week, she’s lamenting her two-pound weight gain. ‘I just don’t understand what I’m doing wrong,’ she says with a sigh. ‘OK, I went out for my sister’s birthday and had spaghetti and tiramisu. That’s not a crime, is it? And I might’ve had a huge pizza all to myself… and some brownies. But I’ve always had a high metabolism, so it shouldn’t be a problem.’

      I purse my lips to stop myself saying something, and see a couple of other members rolling their eyes.

      ‘Remember what we said last week about sticking to the Treat Points allowance,’ Marjorie says, sounding like she’s about to explode. ‘Pizza and brownies are big no-nos on the Carb Counters plan, as well you know!’

      I can tell from the look on Sheila’s face she’s not listening. If she were a cartoon, there’d be a flock of bluebirds circling her head. Some people just aren’t meant to be Carb Counters and she’s definitely one of them.

      The last to speak is Zara, a woman who joined at the same time as me. She twirls her rose-gold curls round her fingers as she prepares to tell everyone what kind of week she’s had.

      ‘Well, it’s been a good one for me,’ she says with a shy smile. ‘I’ve managed to stick to the plan better than I thought, even though I was on holiday from work and my husband wanted to eat out every night! The hardest bit is staying within my Treat Points allowance, to be honest. I don’t know about you all, but I can’t resist a slice of cheesecake!’

      A giggle ripples around the circle and we all nod. No matter what stage we’re at in our journey, we can all relate to the temptation of cheesecake.

      Marjorie pipes up before Zara can continue. ‘Tut tut, stay away from that cheesecake or next week’s results might not be so positive! You can always try the guilt-free cheesecake recipe in the Carb Counters cookbook if you’re feeling peckish.’

      Nice book plug, I say to myself.

      Zara giggles. ‘I already have, and it tastes like dog vomit! That bran stuff tastes like twigs and don’t get me started on using quark instead of cream cheese.’

      An even bigger laugh bursts from the circle this time, along with murmurs of agreement. Although the Carb Counters cookbook is meant to help us, the recipes are god-awful.

      ‘On the positive side, though,’ Zara continues after the laughter has subsided, ‘I had a doctor’s appointment this week and my BMI has come down by nearly two and a half points. I’ve got a long way to go, but it’s two and a half points closer to being ready for IVF.’

      Her voice cracks a little and she dabs at her eyes with a tissue. Zara’s fertility issues are common knowledge within the group; she’s kept us updated with her progress over the last twelve months.

      ‘That’s great,’ I say with a smile, ‘you’ve worked really hard for this.’

      I’m not known for speaking out in the group – despite being here for a year, I’ve always been far too shy – but I’m so proud of Zara that I have to congratulate her.

      ‘Thank you,’ she says, ‘it’s been a long road: three miscarriages and an ectopic pregnancy. It finally feels like I’m going in the right direction, though.’

      I can’t help but smile; although people sneer at slimming groups, Zara’s story just goes to show they can change people’s lives.

      Marjorie’s gaze turns on me and she cocks her head to one side.

      ‘Would you like to share something, Cleopatra? Something about your week maybe, or how you’re going to achieve next week’s target?’

      As the other members turn to look at me, I freeze. Although I loved being in the spotlight during my dancing days, that’s definitely not the case now. I feel everyone’s eyes burning into me and my heart rate quickens.

      ‘I… I… erm…’ I swallow hard and try to focus on my breathing. I can do this, I’ve got this, I say to myself.

      Finally, I gather the words I want to say in my head and put them in the right order. However, by the time I open my mouth, Marjorie’s already directing her steely gaze in someone else’s direction. Part of me feels relieved to step back into the shadows, but I can’t help feeling a little disappointed in myself.

      Next time will be different, I promise myself. Next time I won’t fluff my words.

      *

      After we’ve had our results boomed out by Marjorie, who would rival any town crier, it’s time for our workout. This is my least favourite part; exercise and I just don’t go together, as you’ve already seen. Today’s one is what Marjorie

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