Monthly Archives: January 2016

It’s All In The Head

Biggest struggles, , , ,

painI’ve always believed that I was quite effective in the ‘not giving up on stuff’ department, in fact more than once I’ve confidently used the words tenacious and determined to describe myself. I can think of some cracking examples throughout my life where I’ve clung on till my fingertips bled in pursuit of something I believed in, and I’d even count one or two successful visits to Skinny Town in the past as examples I can bandy about of me being hardcore when it counts.

Except when I say clung on until my fingertips bled, I am of course speaking metaphorically. No actual bleeding happened, because that would have meant pain, and I don’t do pain. I mean don’t get me wrong, there are times in your life when you can’t avoid it – having a baby for example, or getting sick.

To be fair when my boy was born I wheeled out the diva and demanded so much pain relief I was probably stoned for his first six months, but I have been through some other tough medical stuff where I had to just suck it up. I’ve talked in here before about the run in I had with the big C which involved a fair few cut and shut jobs. Sometimes you don’t have a choice and getting on with it is the only option open to you.

But pain, in pursuit of a goal? You know, when you have a choice, and could choose not to hurt..? That I’m finding it harder to get my head around. And before you laugh and call me a fanny, I know I’m only talking about six minutes on a cross trainer on the lowest setting, it’s hardly the north face of the Eiger, right? But don’t forget I’m carrying the equivalent of a whole other person around in my pants, and no matter how large or small the frame of reference, pain is pain. I did six minutes this morning and it hurt.

I almost gave up…it was a really close call that I didn’t. The asshole in my head was determined to build on his victory from yesterday when I’d programmed ten minutes but managed only five. I did complete the other five minutes last night before I went to bed but made the rookie mistake of not warming up or cooling down – I mean come on it was five lousy minutes, who knew it even mattered? For future reference, it does.

My legs were bitching at me before I’d even opened my eyes this morning and I made the journey from the bed to the cross-trainer in the style of Norman Wisdom, a fact shamelessly exploited by the asshole voice as a reason to quit as I winced my way through six minutes of hurt.

I’m really going to need to get a handle on this. When you google phrases like pushing through the pain, or digging deep to achieve your goals, you get hundreds and hundreds of inspirational quotes, but not a single bloody one that tells you how. I don’t need platitudes, I need advice and it’s a bit thin on the ground.

I’m scared that I’ll give up…there, I’ve said it. I’m scared that when the going gets tough I’ll just fold and think nah, not for me. And I can’t. I need to learn how not to give up, and practice not giving up ’till it’s baked into my psyche. Imagine if I’m halfway over that mountain in Cuba, and I get a blister that really hurts. They’re hardly going to call mountain rescue are they? I’ll be expected to just bloody get on with it and stop moaning. I need to find a way of pulling out the kind of mental resilience which keeps you nailed on to the task in hand even when you hurt.

If there was a pit of crocodiles under the cross trainer, or some device primed to blow my buns off if I slipped below so many strides per minute I’d have no choice but to keep going…right now my kit-bag of reasons not to quit is feeling a bit light, so any suggestions would be gratefully considered 🙂

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Buns Of Steel

In the here & now, , , ,

buns

So the coffin-sized cardboard box which got delivered at the weekend amid much excitement is no longer posing as a one-box-obstacle-course in my kitchen thanks to my friend and knight in shining armour, who popped in to work his magic last night after work. Under my close supervision – I was in charge of removing plastic wrapping and polystyrene – he effortlessly assembled the gleaming beast of a cross-trainer which is now firmly in-situ, plugged in and ready to make me hurt.

After he’d left last night I spent a bit of time reading the instructions, you know so I can get the most out of my workouts…okay lets be honest, to make sure I understand how to put it on the easiest setting 🙂 Hey, I need to ease myself in gently, right? I was more than a little bit alarmed to note their disclaimer that ‘too much exercise could injure your body or can cause dead’. Best go a bit steady then chaps.

I did a quick few steps on it last night, not in a serious workout kind of way…I was wearing my slippers at the time, and having moved it around the bedroom with the help of my boy into several different spots until I was happy with the feng shui (otherwise known as making sure it didn’t obscure the view of the TV from my bed) I felt like I’d spent two hours in the gym already, damn thing weighs a ton.

But I went to sleep with much anticipation of waking up this morning, leaping out of bed and pulling on my gear so I could crack on with an invigorating hour of exercise to set me up for the day. I’ve bought new trainers and everything, which even match the colour of the frame on this thing. I’m telling you, woman and machine in perfect symmetry, how on earth could it result in anything other than poetry in motion?

So, this morning then…well. My new trainers fitted. Sadly the same can’t be said for my exercise gear, which to be fair hasn’t seen the light of day since God was a lad. I mean I know lycra is stretchy but it’s apparently not quite that stretchy. Naked it is then. Well, naked with new trainers. It’s ok, the shutters were closed and there was only me and the dog, who was watching me quizzically from a safe distance…come on, you can’t blame him…he still remembers the power plate.

After two false starts, when I couldn’t seem to get it on the easiest setting only to discover that it was already on the easiest setting, the penny started to drop that this might not be quite the walk in the park that I’d imagined. I altered the timer to ten minutes from the hour that I’d brazenly keyed in to start with, and off I went.

One minute in and we’re doing okay…feeling it a bit in the legs but it’s all good. Two minutes in I’ve noticed that if I look up I can see my reflection in the TV which is directly in front of me…let’s not dwell on that other than to say I need some new exercise duds, to avoid any mental scarring which might result from being exposed to this image ever again.

Three minutes in and I’m starting to hurt. The asshole in my mind has sprung into action and he’s busy telling me that I’ve done enough…don’t overdo it on your first attempt, you must have burned off two thousand calories by now, so why don’t you go downstairs and make bacon, you’ve earned it! Four minutes in and I’m seriously starting to think that this might actually result in dead.

I made it to five minutes. And then I made it to the bed, and laid there for a bit wondering what just happened. Eventually I made it downstairs to the kitchen, on legs made of rubber, and as I sit here typing this I can’t help looking across at the fruit bowl, and wondering just how many grapes I could eat with the seven fucking calories I just burned. SEVEN!!! I could have earned more picking my nose.

Now, my promise to you is that I will complete that other five minutes at some point today. I’m going to take the dog out for a good walk in a minute, and isn’t that going to be an interesting experience on rubber legs. I haven’t quit…I’ve just paused. And I’m starting to think that perhaps I won’t have buns of steel by Friday. But no quitters here 🙂

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And We’re Off!

In the here & now, , ,

aaargh

So, on the day when voting opened for the UK Blog Awards, I’d love to be able to report back and say that everything’s gone swimmingly, but come on, this is my life! Of course things haven’t gone without a hitch, in fact if ever a day was designed to send me over the edge and rocketing head first into the hob-nobs, yesterday would be it. Just…AAARGH!!!

Have you ever asked yourself the question why is nothing ever easy? Let me tell you that at quarter past midnight last night I was deep in email exchange with Gemma, the very patient Managing Director of the UK Blog Awards, who I’m sure is already regretting the day she ever heard of my blog, and is almost certainly wondering why I’m not accompanied at all times by a responsible adult.

Not only had I managed to enter our blog into the wrong category, I’d managed to lock myself out of my UKBA account too whilst I was in the process of trying to put it right. And after consultation with the posse over the last couple of days, I was ready to call out the two most voted-for posts – Part Woman, Part Ostrich, and What Would You Keep – but the ‘place holder’ ones that I dropped in when I filled out the entry were refusing to budge! Not that they’re bad ones, just not the ones we all picked. So that took a bit of faffing around with too…I’m knackered!

However, that said…voting is now OPEN!! It’s all very exciting…everyone is allowed to vote once per day. I’ve already cast mine, and I know a few of you have too, so we’re officially off the starting blocks! I did think about setting up an email account for the dog so he could join in the fun and we could bag a few extra votes but my sense of fair play prevailed and rallied against it, dammit. However, you can cast your vote HERE 🙂  And if you think your friends and family might like to join in too, well even better! It’s the top option in the drop down voting box, which casts a vote in both of the sections we are nominated in.

The reality is, I’m going to be rubbish at this campaigning malarkey…it’s already grating against every good nerve in my body that I’m asking for votes. I can feel my palms getting sweaty, and I sense the asshole in my mind limbering up to place a few choice words…yeah go on, ask again…you’re guaranteed to piss everybody off if you keep banging on about it…people will stop reading, they’ll switch off in droves…get over yourself. 

Is that a fat thing, or a me thing do you think? I suspect a bit of both…if you cast your mind back, in the ‘Police, Fire, Ambulance, Me’ post I talked about how I rarely ask for help, and this is sort of the same thing, right? Asking for stuff from other people is just something I struggle with, big time, so I suspect our campaign might be a bit more low key than some.

I’ve got to tell you, it was a very strange feeling seeing our blog up there, pitted against dozens of amazing entries…that’s the moment I’ve been waiting for you know? And the feeling didn’t disappoint, it feels awesome. Look what we did! When I started writing the blog, it was for the sole purpose of keeping myself accountable. 90,000 words later, I could never have imagined it would develop into what it’s become. You lot are awesome, do I tell you that enough?

So anyway, let me put my excitement about the blog awards to one side for a moment, guess what else turned up this weekend…yes, my cross-trainer. What I wasn’t expecting when I opened the box was for it to come in four thousand different pieces. I thought the hardest part would be actually getting fit, I didn’t realise I’d need a PHD in knobs to put the damn thing together before I could rustle up a single bead of sweat, I mean come on.

One look at the instructions and I could practically taste those hob-nobs. Fortunately a knight in shining armour offered his services, so he’s coming over to assemble it for me tonight. By the skin of my teeth, no hob-nobs were consumed in the meltdown which followed the opening of the big box, and now help is on the horizon the urge to eat has melted away.

All told, it was quite a stressful day…the kind of day where six months ago I would have eaten my own bodyweight in chocolate. Instead of which, last night I went to bed with a couple of points left unspent.

How about them apples!

 

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If You Don’t Back Yourself…

In the here & now, , ,

yes

I had a lovely long chat this morning with a friend of mine who knows Break Out The Skinny Girl is my voice and she’d called me, full of excitement having read yesterday’s post about the UK Blog Awards. She really made me laugh when she cut straight to the chase and demanded to be part of any red carpet event, ever, which resulted from my blog having a moment in the spotlight. She’s already planning her outfit, and more importantly, the shoes.

I found that so funny, given that it’s her dream to pose and smile in front of popping flashbulbs, where the same scenario would be my absolute nightmare. I’d be the one sneaking in the back door whilst nobody was looking! I brought her down to earth just a tiny bit and re-based her expectations that in the unlikely event that we got as far as being invited to the awards night it probably wouldn’t be on the same scale as the Academy Awards, and Brad Pitt probably wouldn’t be there.

I’m still feeling a bit like a rabbit caught in the headlights at the fact that I even entered a competition in the first place, you know? It’s not like me at all. Living life in a really fat body means that I get judged on a regular basis by people who don’t even know me, whether I invite their opinion or not, so to put myself in a position where I’m asking to be judged isn’t something I ever recall doing before and I’ve got to admit it’s making me a bit twitchy.

But you know what?  You’ve got to back yourself.

Take my individual blog posts as an example…when I’ve finished writing one, and I’ve done my usual tinkering around the edges, I press the button and send it out there into the big wide world for you guys to read, along with a bright shiny five-star rating to see it on its way. And yes, of course, I know that when you read them, you’ll relate to some more than others, but that’s not the point…if I don’t believe myself that a post is as good as I can possibly make it, how could I even hope you’d enjoy reading it?

It’s the same thing with my diet. I’m backing myself 100% on this journey. I’m going to do it, I know I am. I have an unshakeable belief. And what’s more, I believe this time when I get to Skinny Town I’m going to stay there. When I haven’t felt this way, my diets have failed and Lord knows over the years there have been so many epic fails. To pinch a quote from that great philosopher ‘anonymous’ this time I’m too positive to be doubtful, too optimistic to be fearful, and too determined to be defeated.

Which brings us back to the UK Blog Awards…I have no hope or expectation that we’ll win anything, and for me it’s not about that, as much as being up there, side by side with the big guns you know? Our modest little blog with a few hundred regular readers sharing the same platform with folk who have gazillions of followers and do this for a living…that’s what success looks like to me, right there. I’m going to feel a tiny bit proud…we might be small in the grand scheme of things but we’re in the game, right?

So anyway, voting opens tomorrow and lasts for a couple of weeks – tomorrow’s post will probably go live a bit earlier than usual once I have access to the links so I can shamelessly beg you all to cast your votes and ask everyone you know to cast theirs too 🙂 I shall also have to beg your indulgence for the next couple of weeks, you may see the logo and the link appearing once or twice more..!

Will I be voting for myself..? You bet your sweet ASS I will, every day for as long as voting is open, because I can! 

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Back Of The Net!

Biggest Triumphs, , , ,

goal

In all the excitement yesterday of throwing our arms wide to welcome in a bright and shiny 2016, and with light bulbs popping here and there, I got distracted and forgot to mention…it’s a little bit snug, but the size 22 top I’ve been lusting after since I came back from Vegas fastened with only a soupçon of persuasion! There’s no truth in the rumour that my lips turned blue from holding my breath as I tried it on, and I’m claiming it as another little goal achieved 🙂

I realise that it’s all relative…I mean there might be folk in our posse who’ve lived their entire lives as skinny string beans, and the acquisition of just a little bit of padding means they’re as unhappy with their size as I am with mine…we super-fatties don’t have the monopoly on low self esteem, right? And to those guys, the thought of being a size 22 must make them want to go have a lie down in a darkened room with a cold compress. But speaking as someone who was a size 28 just one hundred and thirty eight days ago, I’m feeling pretty awesome.

So, obviously my thoughts have now turned to what next. I like having bite sized goals – seriously, what other sort would you expect to have on a fat girl’s blog – and I like measuring it in dress sizes, because it’s tangible you know? Holding something up against yourself and stepping a little further from no chance! every time is a real motivator for me. So I think eight weeks seems a reasonable time frame to aim for the next size down…what do you think? Let’s call that out as my next mini goal…1st March, officially the first day of spring and I’m shooting for a 20.

Right, so listen, come closer…I need your help for a minute. Something rather exciting is about to happen…we’re entering a competition! Our blog’s been accepted into the running for the UK Blog Awards, and I’ve got to submit two blog posts from the archives, in preparation for the public vote which starts on Monday. OMG!!!!  I feel a bit sick – me, the least competitive person you’ll ever meet, putting us out there to be judged…clearly I had a moment of insanity when I clicked on the go for it button.

To be fair, I don’t think we have a cat in hell’s chance of getting past the first round, because there are some really professional looking blogs out there and for me, this is my passion and my hobby but it’s not a commercial enterprise. So all I’m really looking to do is to raise the profile of the blog a little bit, and welcome a few more folk into the posse.

But this is where I really need your help. I’m hoping you’ll throw yourself right in and cast your vote of course, but I need to be even more demanding of you than that…which two posts do I pick? I mean, to me they’re like my babies…each one lovingly and thoughtfully crafted in order to serve you up a smile, or some reflection, or if I really hit the back of the net to help you feel less alone on this journey, like you’re not the only person who’s trying to climb out of their fat suit, you know? And of course I get all that right back at me from you guys…me, I’m just the one who stirs the pot.

I can’t choose between them! I was just going to pick the two top rated posts, but the proportion of folk in the posse who use the star rating buttons is quite small, so I’d rather throw it out there and ask you guys. You know better than me which ones you like the best. You’re the experts!

I’ve got to submit my choices on Sunday, and I’ll tell you more about it then…I’ve got some logos I need to figure out how to use, and I’ll probably spend the weekend looking confused and pressing lots of buttons in the hope that something sticks where it should, but in the meantime, which two blog posts from our archive should I lay out in all their glory to showcase the best of what we’ve got?

Over to you guys…help!

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