WeightWatchers Leader ought to be sitting behind a little metal grille.

She is listening patiently. She's heard it all a million times before, but only occasionally do her eyes rolls towards the heavens. And never once does she bite her cheek. Why waste 0.05 calories from her daily intake on me, I guess.

We always have this confessional routine. Every single week, I feel an urge to purge before I step on to her hallowed scales.

I'm not alone. Other disciples of the religion (which WeightWatchers becomes once you realise that, if you bee-lieve, miracles CAN happen) do exactly the same thing, apparently.

Only we're not asking for forgiveness.

What do you think? Post your comments below.

The reason why we stand there, in our stockinged feet, dishing the dirt on ourselves is this: we are making excuses before we confront the truth, in pounds and ounces. We want WWL to understand how weak and only human we are, so that she will not judge us too harshly.

As I make my way to class at the Montgomery Hall on Surrey Street each Thursday lunchtime (obviously, I eat afterwards), I mull over in my mind all the reasons there might be for me not having lost any weight this time.

I might not do any regular exercise, but my brain does a full obstacle course during that little journey up Fargate.

And then I stand before The Great One, recant and repent.

The other week, we'd had friends round to dinner, I 'fessed. And I'd tried, I really had; One Point parsnip soup for starters, tuna steak at 1½ points and a special vanilla and rosewater creme fraiche pudding in at four (and so good they actually asked for the recipe).

But it would have been rude not to serve a cheese course, wouldn't it? And how can you not have half a bottle of wine when everyone else is?

They left a box of chocolates, too. It didn't seem right to leave them lying around, unopened.

The week before that, the excuse had been my birthday. I mean, you've got to live, haven't you?

But miraculously, each week I have still lost my usual pound.

So here I am again, summoning up the excuses before weigh-in. This time, I am absolutely sure I have gained instead of lost. And I'm feeling disappointed with myself because if I could have just shed one more pound, it would have been a momentous occasion; my total weight loss would have been a stone.

So what could I possibly come up with that she would accept this time?

The good old faithful, the one every woman can always fall back on – her period. (A friend of a friend, who went through the menopause years ago, still uses this one. Although her hormone levels have depleted to the extent that she has been saving herself a small fortune in Tampax for years, she kids herself into believing that once a month they rally just enough fighting spirit to make her put on a few pounds in fluid retention).

In my case, it's the truth.


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