“HEAVY boned?” I squawked at my pal Mae. “Heavy boned?”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous.”

Mae shook her head oblivious to what I was rambling on about.

“And how on earth can some people have heavier bones than others?” I failed to see the sense in that.

You see, Tuesday evening while flying back to Glasgow following our week’s cruise, some of the passengers were discussing the amount of weight they reckoned they had gained due to overeating and drinking for seven days.

“I don’t think I’ve put on too much weight," suggested Margaret, from Royston.

“I’m just naturally heavy boned.”

And Mae and I nudged each other as we noticed that Margaret’s seatbelt was straining under the pressure of her huge belly.

“Tell you what Janice,” Mae made me laugh.

“Heavy boned my ass."

“Margaret must be strong boned carrying all that weight," chipped in Margaret's hubby Jim, as the drinks trolley headed his way.

“I might as well have a last beer.”

Jean from Partick, who was tucking in to a large Paninis and a glass of wine, added: "And I might as well have my last tube of cheese n’ onion Pringles before I start my diet.

“It’s my thyroid that’s playing up.

“I’m not normally this size.” She’d convinced herself.

“We’ll wait till Monday when we’re back at work to start our diet," agreed Moira and Billy from Baillieston, while slurping the dregs of their beer.

So there we were, storing food like hamsters, because as soon as that aeroplane landed in Glasgow, the last seven days of overindulgence would come to an abrupt end, for me and Mae anyway.

Day one and I’m back at work.

“One slice of toast please Ann,” I asked our canteen lady, after exchanging pleasantries about my holiday.

“Is that all?,” she asked.

“Yep, I’m afraid so,” I replied, as my tummy rumbled as I went on to explain.

“Normally by this time in the morning I would have had a sausage, fried egg, two hash browns, a slice of bacon, a slice of toast, and a mug of tea.”

“Really?” Ann looked at me as though I should be out digging the roads after a breakfast like that.

But I had to be realistic and get back to normality for no other reason than being able to get into my clothes.

After my toast I managed to stick to my diet until a large wedge of chocolate birthday cake landed on my desk at three o’clock, and well, it would have been rude to refuse it.

Thursday, toast, tea and some fruit was all that I’d eaten until lunchtime, when I noticed a text message from a friend reminding me that we were due to meet up for lunch to catch up after my holiday.

Soup, lasagne and garlic bread weren’t supposed to part of my diet plan, but it was just one of those things I reckoned.

Friday, and it was the start of Easter weekend.

Well, the office was full of blinkin Easter eggs, Easter bunnies and Easter cake, everywhere you turned.

And I resisted until my willpower packed in and I scoffed a bit of everything with a mug of tea.

Later that evening, I surpassed myself by buying a fish supper on the way home.

“No point in cooking on a Friday night!,” I convinced myself.

I expected Saturday to be a good day for calorie counting because I was joining my friends on a 13 mile walk, so it was the perfect time to carefully select my low-fat packed lunch.

However, despite stopping a couple of times for a breather, and being offered sweeties and snacks, I somehow managed to refuse them.

The day was going extremely well until I reached in to my rucksack for my energy bar which I had saved for the last stretch.

But search as I may, it was nowhere to be found.

“Here you go Janice,” offered Ian. “I have a spare Snickers bar.”

“No I,” I stuttered.

“No I’d better ..... Oh well……. Thanks very much.”

And in less than a minute I devoured the Snickers bar as though I had been on a diet for a month.

Relaxing at home after my 13 mile walk and a hot bath, I poured myself a large glass of red wine and phoned a Chinese takeaway, after all, it was Saturday night.

Clearing away the dishes later that evening I came across a large box of chocolates my son had hidden as a surprise for my Easter, and after devouring my third chocolate, I stupidly decided to weight myself.

Suddenly the dial shot round faster than a speeding bullet and I wondered….

“Perhaps I’m just heavy boned too!”