EVERY DIET ENDED IN FAILURE

BACK in the mid-1990s, I turned to the Atkins Diet, which was flying off the shelves. The idea was to ensure 60 per cent of your diet came from fat, which would in turn produce fat-burning acids called ketones.

Today, a number of clinicians view this diet as unhealthy and dangerous. But, back then, I bought into it completely.

There was, however, one big problem with the regime. My breath smelled like nail-varnish remover. Other side-effects included heart palpitations, headaches, cramps in the legs and constipation. At one time or another, I suffered from them all.

Gosh, it was hard. They say that on Atkins you never feel hungry or deprived — but I felt both, all the time. At least I lost a couple of stone in a year, bringing me down to 14 st — still technically obese.

It wasn’t long before I started to feel really hungry almost all of the time. My portion sizes began to expand, the odd chip started to find its way on to my plate and before long I was fatter than ever.

Why, when I’d already failed to keep off weight lost on the Atkins diet, was I yet again seduced by a faddy regime — which wasn’t all that different from Atkins? Maybe I was too charmed by the French doctor I interviewed on Woman’s Hour in 2010, or too stupid. Or maybe I was just desperate to find a solution to my weight, which was now 19 st.

The doctor’s name was Pierre Dukan. I began his highly-restrictive diet that September, and charted my progress in a regular column for the Daily Mail.

By the following summer, I’d gone down to 13 st 2 lb and was looking forward to joining my family for the Rugby World Cup in New Zealand.

As I prepared for the flight, I decided to enter the consolidation phase of the Dukan Diet, designed to keep off what I’d already lost.

It’s amazing how you can fool yourself into thinking you’re in control. But that October, during my three-week holiday in New Zealand, I became unaccountably ravenous.

Maybe I’d slipped into holiday mood. What’s more likely, I know now, is that my body had begun to rebel against the strict dieting I’d put it through. By New Year, after a wonderful dietfree Christmas, I’d regained 3 st. It’s extraordinary how quickly fat, once lost, piles back on again as you feed a new-found hunger.

In April, I was — you guessed it — right back to 19 st.