Monthly Archives: January 2016

I’ll Start Again Monday

Reflections on past times

fu

So, this Friday just gone was the day apparently where loads of people will have fallen off the dieting wagon – it said so in the Daily Mail, so it must be true!  Actually, whilst I think even they’d agree that many of their articles are written by someone who’s one sandwich short of a picnic, this one gave me a real twinge, because I’ve been that person, so many times. Pretty much every year when I think about it although to be fair I was never part of that statistic – it’s rare that I made it past Wednesday.

I wish I had a pound for every time I’ve looked back after another failed attempt, and felt gutted as I wondered how much nearer to Skinny Town I’d have been if I’d just kept my head in the game. I wonder how many people are out there tonight, Sunday, thinking that they can write this week off as a false start, but tomorrow is it, you know? Monday 11th, the real deal. We’ve got the practise run out of the way and we’re ready to do it for real now…come on!

I know as they go to bed tonight they will be absolutely determined to do it this time. They’ve probably over-indulged a bit over the weekend because you know, from Monday this is it, no more treats. They’ll be full of hope and optimism that this time will be different and for some it really might be. But for some it won’t and having read that article, those are the ones I can’t help thinking about tonight.

It’s very easy to convince yourself as you sit there with a full belly, pleasantly stuffed from all the last minute treats you’ve scoffed, that you’re capable of being in control, and your lack of willpower won’t get the better of you. Funny how it’s not as easy when you’re a couple of days in, and in the grip of a craving for something you know you shouldn’t have, right?  You’re vulnerable near the beginning, because your investment so far is too easy to write off. It goes right back to what we talked about yesterday.

Some of the people starting their real diet tomorrow wouldn’t be folk we need worry about you know? To them, starting a diet every Monday is a way of life…a hobby almost. Diet Monday to Thursday, splurge over the weekend, laugh about it with your friends and cut back again Monday. My friend’s mum goes to fat class religiously every week and has lost and regained the same pound pretty much every week for the last two years. She doesn’t lose any sleep over it, it’s just what she does and she’s perfectly happy.

But for every one of those, there’ll be someone who feels like shit, whose self esteem is in tatters, who knows they need to lose weight and when the wheels come off in the first couple of days they’ll eat their anguish and feel like they failed, again. Sometimes, no matter how rock bottom you feel, it’s nigh on impossible get those first baby steps safely under your belt if your head’s not in the sweet spot.

I wish they knew there was all this support here, just waiting for them. We’ve all been there and worn the T-shirt haven’t we? It’s an intensely personal thing, which is why I couldn’t bear to turn into one of those irritating people who say if I can do it you can…I’ve heard those words from others, and they don’t help if you’re galloping away from Skinny Town on a horse called Failure. I wonder what would help.

As I was fixing to start, I wrote down a list of all the reasons I hated being fat. All the things I wanted to do but couldn’t because of my size. All the bits of my body that hurt because I was too heavy. All the experiences I’d had which had been spoiled because I was preoccupied with how fat I felt, or looked, or what other people might think about my size.

I made notes about the constant fear I had about bumping into people I hadn’t seen since I was skinny and what they’d think. Bumping into Mr Muscle…OMG the horror of that thought. It was a long old list, and I read it over and over till I could recite it backwards. And of course, I blogged. I’m still blogging…and I found you guys…you’re my silver bullet.

So what about all of you? How did you get started..? On the off chance that there’s someone reading this, who’s taking those first tentative steps and feeling a bit wobbly…sharing ideas within the posse about what worked for all of us might just help?

Over to you 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

The Penny Drops

Freeform thoughts

star

I’m having something of an epiphany this week, with this whole exercise thing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m still as far from using the word enjoy in relation to anything that leaves me out of breath and hurting as I ever was. I don’t see that changing any time soon either, to be frank the only bit I enjoy about exercise is when it’s over.

That said, when I was looking back at the week yesterday and totting up what I’d done altogether in terms of activity, I was almost knocked over by a massive wave of…I don’t know what I’d call it. Self-satisfaction..? Pride, achievement…whatever label I put on it, it felt awesome.

It’s a familiar mantra isn’t it, that diet and exercise go together hand in hand, and that one isn’t as effective without the other. More than that, it’s not even a myth perpetuated by skinny string beans with their cucumber water and painted on yoga pants – everyone agrees. Even me…I just didn’t understand why. And I’m not claiming to have made the leap from zero to hero overnight, but the penny has started to drop and another piece of the jigsaw is falling into place.

I always assumed that the reason diet and exercise were so closely linked was because exercising burns calories and speeds up metabolism, and therefore weight loss. And helps to tone up as you go along. And of course that’s true, it does all of those things. What I hadn’t really thought about, was the psychological edge that exercise gives you.

How can I describe it to you in fat-girl words..? Yesterday, I was faced with the reality of what I can do, rather than what I can’t. Presented with the sum total of my investment into me over the course of one week, I felt unstoppable, you know? It’s like I’ve been handed a massive tube of superglue, which if applied liberally, will keep my feet bang in the middle of this sweet spot.

I know I’ve talked before about the fact that with almost five months’ worth of dieting under my belt in this journey to Skinny Town, I’m invested…I have a lot of skin in the game, and that momentum is one of the biggest reasons I’ve managed to stay in the sweet spot. Every good food choice, every battle with the Asshole voice…it’s all been an investment into me, and what I’m trying to achieve.

Last week I also invested time on the hurt machine and more than twenty miles of walking towards my end goal. And knowing I can do that has made my head feel stronger, as well as my body. The next time the Asshole voice tries to undermine me by telling me I can’t do something, I’ve got a bigger stockpile of reasons why he can just fuck right off.

When you boil it down, it’s pretty obvious, right? The more you invest, the bigger your stake, and the more the outcome matters. And the more it matters, the harder you’ll try. It’s important to me to watch my investment grow, so if I have a wobble I can look at it and the answer will be staring me right between the eyes…look at what I’ve put in so far. Is it worth spoiling for one moment?

The answer will always be NO.

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Who Stole The Real Me!

Biggest Triumphs

thief

I’ve just been pampered within an inch of my life, and I’m feeling sooo relaxed. I made a deal with myself at the beginning of the week that providing I delivered on both the diet and exercise front, every day, today was going to be payback and I’m here to tell you, I cashed in good and proper 🙂

It’s been a bit of a breakthrough week for me. Actually more than a bit. I’m feeling knackered, but knackered in a good way. I’d booked the week off work with the intention of having a nice rest, because the run up to the end of the year at work was so busy, and I needed to recharge my batteries you know? And if I’m honest, what that’s normally looked like for me is a week in the armchair watching endless TV whilst eating my way through endless junk. To me, that was relaxing.

Not this week. This week I’ve got to grips with my hurt machine after it got assembled on Monday, and I’ll remember the euphoria of completing ten whole minutes for a good old while. I might only be able to manage ten minutes at a time, but ten minutes twice a day is two hours and twenty minutes a week of hard yards that I wasn’t doing before. And I’ve walked with the dog every day, around three miles. So since I finished work a week ago that’s more than twenty miles.

It’s been the kind of weather that in the past would’ve had me turning the heating up a notch and thinking not for me, maybe later, but typically, the armchair/junk food combo – and the resulting food coma – would have meant ‘later’ almost certainly did not involve walking far from the fridge. This week I togged up and walked. We can’t have had more than a five minute break in the rain all week, so every day I’ve arrived home afterwards cold and very wet, but still I walked. Even on the two days this week where my knee was giving me hell, I walked.

Saying all this out loud, is making me think that maybe someone stole the real me? It’s like I’ve discovered another gear that I’ve not used before, and I’m not sure where it really came from unless maybe it’s a mixture of knowing I’ve gone public with my commitment to do the trek in October, and knowing that this award malarkey has pushed the blog onto something of a platform so I have to bring my A game.

I was freaking out a bit earlier in the week because I didn’t know how to dig deep but I’m starting to think that no matter how elusive the theory, when you know you have to, you just can..? It seems a bit too good to be true so I’ll continue to test the theory.

So, I’ve had a lovely head massage and a facial as well as my usual manicure. It was my way of saying thank you to this knackered old body for pulling it out of the bag this week. And much as I’d love to round off my Saturday by chilling out in the chair with a bit of TV, I have to walk the dog.

Just for a change, it’s raining 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Question EVERYTHING!!

In the here & now

spag dog

You know when someone tells you something, or you read it and you really want it to be true..? Even when you have a little niggling doubt at the back of your mind, which you try and ignore, its so tempting to push ahead and believe it because you want to. I’ve practically got letters after my name for my ability to do that, in fact it’s probably fair to say that the majority of my major life fuck-ups have hinged on that very thing.

So it’s got to be an area of focus, right? As I’m trying to untangle this spaghetti in my head, it’s one of my watch-outs, and a big red flag was raised for me yesterday, which I ignored. I saw bunting…I might have even fist-pumped quietly to myself. Happily, the nagging doubt persisted so I have revisited it this morning, and for once I can thank the Asshole voice in my head. He was just a bit too enthusiastic you know? Too keen to have me believe, and I got suspicious.

According to Weight Watchers’ website, the high protein bread rolls that I like to buy from Lidl were 2 smart points per serving. And one serving of a bread roll has to be…well, one bread roll, right? Under the old system, they were 9. Now I don’t know if you’re familiar with these rolls, but they’re big heavy triangular things, dark like rye bread and choc full with sesame seeds, kind of like the Rolls Royce of bread rolls. Plus they have added protein so they keep you full for ages.

So as I was preparing to go shopping yesterday, I checked, thinking if they’d gone up like so many of Weight Watchers values under this new system, they’d have to be struck off the list as being too expensive you know? I saw 2 points and it felt like Christmas all over again…get in! So I stocked up, and gleefully raised a proverbial glass to the person who baked them with added magic to account for them being heavy, filling and yet so light in points.

So, fast forward to this morning, as I stuck my bacon medallions under the grill for lunch. The Asshole voice was setting off party poppers in my head. Go on, why don’t you have two rolls? You could even do a few minutes on the hurt machine later and have four!! Pushing all the excitement to one side, something just didn’t feel right so I went back to the website and checked.

Yep, there it was, 2 smart points per 42g serving. It seemed a bit of a belt-and-braces approach but I even called up the chat facility and spoke to their on-line support to make absolutely sure, and they confirmed that yes, it’s 2 smart points per serving. Despite the Asshole voice’s best efforts at screaming believe! believe! believe! in my ear I was still sceptical so I took out the kitchen scales just to be sure. The chuffing thing weighed 120g!

So, basically Weight Watchers were calling out one third of a bread roll as a serving. WTF? Why would they do that! Who in their right mind eats one third of a bread roll..? If they’d said per 100g I would have got it immediately, that’s an invitation right there to weigh it. Per serving suggests that’s what you get.

On the bright side, they’ve come down 3 points in the re-shuffle so they’re still on the list of good things to eat. But come on Weight Watchers, much as I love you, that’s just dumb. I’m so glad I checked.

Shame I didn’t deploy the same amount of diligence last night when I wolfed down two pots of my favourite dessert, before it occurred to me that they might have gone up or down in points under the new system… yeah, from three points to nine.

Crap!

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Powered By Mad

Biggest Triumphs, , ,

scooter

So I appear to have inadvertently discovered the most effective type of fuel yet to galvanise this fat old body into action…the trick seems to be getting really really mad. I mean, like really mad. Having a complete hissy fit and wanting to put someone’s lights out kind of mad.

It all started this morning when I woke up with a sore knee. There’s nothing particularly unusual about that, my knee has been dodgy ever since I dislocated it in the process of shuffling my 300lb body sideways to get into the window seat on a flight a couple of years ago. Yes, that did hurt, a lot.  And it put a crimp in the last few days of what had been a memorable trip around the States with my boy. New York is less fun than it might otherwise be when you’re struggling to walk with your knee in a brace.

Anyway I’m fairly used to the constant toothache in my knee, although to be fair it’s actually getting a little easier now I’m on my way down the scale. What really pushed my buttons this morning was the way that before I’d even had the chance to formulate the thought ouch, and stretch it a bit the Asshole voice was all over it.

Ooohh that doesn’t feel good. It’s all this exercise, obviously bad for you and you should stop, immediately, before your leg is damaged beyond repair. Have a day off today, don’t go near that cross trainer because it’s clearly doing more harm than good. Stay in your armchair,and show yourself a bit of TLC. Tell you what, why don’t you try and limp to the supermarket and get some cheese balls, it’ll be like old times…

At the same time he was chewing my ear I was reading an email from the company who I bought my new bag from just before Christmas, who were responding to my enquiry as to when I might expect to receive it. Given that it passed quality control over a week ago but hasn’t been despatched yet, their sentence inviting me to be patient got right up my nose. The straw that broke the camel’s back..? When I closed my laptop and reached over to the bedside table to pick up my glass of water and instead managed to knock it off and into my slippers. Looking back, it’s funny, but seriously, in that moment I completely lost the plot.

I half stomped and half hobbled across the bedroom and got on that hurt machine, chuntering under my breath the whole time. I didn’t even swing past the bathroom for a quick wee first, and excuse my indelicacy but it seems that a full bladder and a bad attitude is the way to go.

I was so busy telling the Asshole voice where to shove his cheese balls, and how despite his best efforts to sabotage my resolve I had no intention of spending the rest of my days traversing life from the comfort of a fat-friendly mobility scooter, I didn’t even notice the minutes mounting up. My eyes were out on stalks when I realised I’d done nine minutes, and I  immediately thought fuck it, if I can do nine I can do TEN, stick THAT in your pipe and smoke it, Asshole. 

So I did.  No quitters here, right?

Like it..? Tell your friends!