Does the Dukan Diet Kill You?

I'm addressing this question because I can see from my secret blogger statistics that people have ended up on 'Close Encounters' after Googling 'Does Dukan Diet kill you?'  Perhaps you didn't know that bloggers have access to this kind of information.  We do.  So the individual who has been searching 'Catherine Fox fart', go and stand in the corner.  The global obsession with Dukan brings quite a bit of traffic my blog's way.  'What happens if you eat pecan nuts on the Dukan Diet?' someone asks.  Another person rather more tersely searches ' Dukan Donut.'

So let me do what I can to field your questions.  Does the Dukan diet kill you?  Well, I'm afraid that if you stick rigidly to it, you will eventually die.  But you will anyway.  Let's refine the question a bit.  Does doing the Dukan diet kill you more quickly than not doing the Dukan diet?  Gosh, I really don't know.  I only have my own case to go on.  I know I weigh around 20lb less than I did before I started.  That's meant to be healthier, isn't it?  But there are risks that must be acknowledged.  Death by falling pilchard tins in Lidl.  Accidental inhalation of oatbran.  It could happen.  Or being murdered by people who are sick of hearing about the sodding Dukan diet.

But what about the long term?  Of course, I may turn into one of those people who put all the weight back on AND MORE, ha ha ha!  Told you!  Yes, I may be worse off in a couple of years time, and the Dukan diet will be to blame.  Nobody says this sort of thing to your face if you lose weight.  They say, 'Oh wow, you're looking fantastic! cow You've lost so much weight! I hate you  Don't lose any more, will you! or I'll sit on you with my big fat arse and flatten you, you twiglet!'  Why is there a hint of schadenfreude in the air when a lapsed dieter resumes their original proportions?

Because we are only human.  And because weight gain and loss is never a simple scientific procedure.  It's never just Eat Less, Exercise More, Lose weight, Sorted.   It's mired down in emotions and image and personal worth.  Plus it's a multi-billion pound market.  It should be about health, shouldn't it?  But it ain't.

That said, I feel good and I can run faster now.  Though I'm nowhere near as effective at pinning people down on the judo mat.  Swings and roundabouts.

And while you're here, why not turn your mind to higher things than weight obsession and self image?  Why not buy my mate Richard Beard's book:

  The one that would have made the Booker shortlist in a perfect world.

WEEK 16--Dukan Diet Phase 3

In case you are thinking this is a bit of cheat, let me quote you an extract from Dr Dukan himself, which I hope conveys the enormity of my undertaking as I approach The Transition Stage of the Dukan Diet: 'I hope with all my heart, dear reader, that you will not stop here and that you will continue to the very end of our joint undertaking. Otherwise I will have...brought you with me into the desert and abandoned you just before you reach the oasis.' You see? I cannot give up now, just because I have reached my desired weight. The good doctor would be desole!

OK, the hard facts. I've lost 20lb. But my metabolism, like a starving beast, prowls around waiting for the opportunity to replenish its pillaged fat reserves! Hence a period Transition is needed, to defend me from myself. It will last 100 days (5 days for each pound lost) and in it a range of foods are reintroduced--2 slices of wholemeal bread a day, one piece of fruit, 2oz of cheese, one serving of pasta a week. See picture above, featuring many exciting foodstuffs from Lidl. What is that chicken doing in there? you might be wondering. It symbolises the frivolous, the very Frenchness of this diet, mes amis. I am now allowed one celebration meal a week, in which anything goes. Except binging of course. The doctor wags a finger at greed. It's all about pleasure, not sin. This is no diet for a good Protestant girl, is it?

So how do you know when you have reached your goal in terms of weight loss? I have no truck with BMI, which takes no account of my immense muscularity. Nor do I have much time for the traditional charts, as they are based on nothing more scientific than somebody's idea of what a good weight ought to be. So being a devout Anglican I opted for a liturgical method: the Dean of Lichfield Cathedral told me to stop. 'Enough! Stop this Doodah diet immediately, or you'll fall down a crack!'

Dukan Diet Update

From Krispy Kreme donuts and from all the deceits of the world, the flesh and the devil, Good Lord, deliver us.

That's part of the Dukan Litany. Those of us following this regime have temporarily renounced all empty carbohydrates and fats. The first stage is very strict. Pure protein, as near as dammit. After a day of this your body shouts, 'What?! No carbs? Are you MAD? What do you expect me to do here--metabolise my own fat?' The answer of course is, Yes. That's exactly what I expect. After two days you start foraging for pizza crusts in your teenage son's bedroom. Fortunately the horror is mitagated by astonishing weight loss (see earlier post).

But then comes the second stage of the regime, which is less rigorous and involves some vegetables. (Sneer from your sofa through mouthfuls of lard pasty, I don't care.) Hoorah for vegetables. Weight loss slows, but hold your nerve: the underlying trend is still downwards. I have now lost 13lb. This is the kind of weight loss normally only associated with accidentally leaning on the corner of the sink whilst standing on the scales. Or losing part of a limb in farm machinery.

And shimmering on the horizon is the next stage, which holds out the promise of 'celebration meals'... But I am getting ahead of myself. I have also forgotten to mention that exercise is a crucial part of Dukan. You are supposed to walk for 25mins a day. Here again Dukan reveals himself as a Frenchman. 'Ordinary shoes, even ladies' heels are fine for everyday walking to lose weight'. This book is aimed at Parisiennes, not big lasses in the West Midlands, isn't it? Dukan has no truck with the kind of exercise I enjoy, running, fighting and the like. No, walking is preferred for several reasons. '[It] does not make you sweat unduly... There is no need for any sports gear, showering or change of clothes.'

It is his firm opinion that at the outset of his diet, we should 'avoid hard physical exercise [and] competitive sport.' Phooey, I thought. I carried on as usual, jogging, doing judo and karate. And got 3 migraines in as many weeks. Could it be that the good doctor is right? Or could it be that spawn of Satan acesulfame k, the artificial sweetener found in all the fat-free yogurts I've been eating? I knew about aspartame, but this was a new one to me.

WEEK 8--The Dukan Diet

I wasn’t going to include this, as technically it falls outside the rules (I didn’t nominate it as a New Thing before starting). However, I knew you’d want to hear about it, given that you (judging by my blog stats) are the kind of people who are far more interested in seedcake and gossip than the conservation of Anglo Saxon artefacts.

So. I started the Dukan Diet last week. As you may be able to see from the book jacket, this is ‘The fat attack French women swear by.’ (NB, it is not to be confused with the strangely titled Why French Women Don’t Get Fat. They do. It’s middle class Parisians that don’t. The answer, hardly requiring a whole volume, is simple: they smoke.) If you are thinking of leaving a comment to the effect of ‘You don’t need to diet!’ then bless you, but the NHS Body Mass Index healthy weight calculator said otherwise. BMI of 25.51: ‘This result suggests you are overweight.’

Obviously BMI doesn’t take muscularity into account, and I am incredibly muscular. If I flex my deltoids grown men flinch--though possibly in horrified pity. I am also immensely clever, and have a lot of brains. Brains are very heavy. It’s been scientifically proved how heavy they are.

OVERWEIGHT?! How dare you. You are only saying that, O nitpicking petty-minded healthy weight calculator, because I have carelessly shrunk an inch. I’ve discovered to my chagrin, that I am only 5’7”, not 5’8”, which I have been confidently asserting is my height for decades. It is that lost inch which tips me over the edge into the overweight category. My clothes have all shrunk too, in solidarity. This is very sweet of them, but in no way helps. Hence Dukan.

What is the Dukan Diet? In a nutshell, low-carb, low-fat, lots of water, (see picture. NB the Morrisons pecan Danish pastries in the background are part of the Bloke diet). Other food groups are gradually reintroduced. It is one of those regimes that prompts the following conversation: ‘What? Low-fat and low-carb? Sounds terrible! I couldn’t stick to that. How much have you lost? Really? In how long? Really?! What was it called again?’

The official book has some priceless French moments: ‘If you do not like balsamic vinegar that is a pity as it is more appealing to the senses.’ You can almost hear the Gallic shrug. Chewing gum may help, Dr Dukan concedes, though ‘I do not eat gum myself as chewing is inelegant.’ As a Frenchman his suggested recipes include delicacies like Thon au trois poivrons, and Moules Marinieres. This will hardly do in the UK where we like our diets penitential and dourly Protestant. It can be easily adapted though: just eat a tin of pilchards.

Yes, yes, yes, but does it work? 7.5lb in a week.

What was it called again?

Only Nine Days Left

Not long now. Done your cards? Sent your presents? Got that essential red table runner for your festive board? And more importantly, do you have your Christmas outfit sorted? Or are you still dicing with delusion, and hoping to lose a few more pounds and slip into something new, expensive and the next size down?

I have accidentally hit upon a way of losing half a stone. (That’s 7lb, for any Americans reading this.) Strictly speaking, it’s a way of appearing to have lost half a stone (3.18kg recurring for an Europeans, Australians and Kiwis reading this): get your hair cut off. A radical step, I know, but time is of the essence when you are trying to look hotter than everyone else. Or everyone else in your age and weight category. At 49, we no longer compete against all comers. This is where moving to a Cathedral Close is a smart move. I still pass as something of a fine young filly round here. (Am praying the chancellor doesn’t hear a call to university chaplaincy.)

So, the new barnet. (That’s hairstyle, for foreigners of any nationality reading this.) I now have what my stylist (Andy, Franceso Group, Walsall) describes as an ‘Eton crop’. Rather than an Eton Mess, which is what it was before (my description, not my stylist’s). As I rightly predicted, people have not noticed this radical and edgy new look. They have asked me instead if I have lost weight. Yes—off my hair.

I may post a pic at some stage. If I can find one that doesn’t make me look fat. Or like a slightly butch and frightening version of Julian Clary.