Monthly Archives: September 2016

Too Easily Persuaded

In the here & now, ,

sweating

Hands up who’s ever made a prosecco-related decision which turned out not to be your smartest move? Yeah, me too. I had a lovely evening on Saturday, you know one of those unplanned evenings that springs up out of nowhere and turns into something unexpected..? There was a beer and prosecco festival in the next town that a few of my friends had been involved in arranging, and having been invited along my intention was to go and have a couple of scoops late afternoon and then head home for my usual Saturday evening in front of the TV with my four-legged fur baby.

It certainly wasn’t my intention to drink my own bodyweight in prosecco before leading the charge to a local Indian restaurant where I proceeded to work my way through their menu. That wasn’t on the cards at all when I left home. But…well, that’s what happened. The prosecco flowed until after dark, everybody left  except me and one of my friends and a bunch of her friends who I’d met for the first time that evening, and when someone said I fancy some food, my tipsy asshole voice was on it like a car bonnet. Indian! Let’s go for Indian food! 

Actually if it’d come into being on the back of a solid week I could probably have got away with it, but for some reason last week it was a tough dieting week so my fizz-fuelled decision to throw caution to the wind and nosh my way through poppadoms with a full pickle tray, onion bhajis and a chicken korma with pilau rice didn’t strictly correspond to the number of smart points I had available in my food budget. Like, not at all.

Saturday night is the very end of my dieting week remember, so it was down to the wire…I’d left home with 12 points available to me, which probably equated to three glasses of prosecco. I definitely had at least six of those after trying the local cider which nearly took the enamel off my teeth, and my ability to keep a count got a little compromised after that so there may have been more if I’m honest.

So, philosophically speaking I don’t regret the evening at all…it was fun, we laughed a lot and it was good to meet some new people. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Sunday morning however, well that was a different story. I wasn’t hungover as such, to be honest by the time I got in on Saturday the food had pretty much soaked up the prosecco. But I felt sluggish. Like I’d eaten a big rich meal just before bed…oh, hang on a minute that’s because I did eat a big rich meal just before bed. Doh.

Safe to say then that an hour of circuit training followed by an hour of boxing didn’t appeal much when I opened my eyes. Or at all. But you know what, I went. I dragged my sorry ass around those circuits through gritted teeth, because it was the start of a brand shiny new week and I’m on it. God help those poor people who had to witness me sweating turmeric out of every pore…I thought I was going to die.

I don’t know why last week was a difficult week, food wise…I think perhaps front-loading my points didn’t help. Last Sunday I had a bit of a blow-out so I had to manage my food budget pretty carefully for the rest of the week, which is guaranteed to make me want to rebel… I know this, it’s not like it’s new news but I guess there are some lessons that need to be learned over and again before they’re baked in, right? The whole week felt like an uphill slog, and I struggled to keep focus so the Indian meal on Saturday was sort of king turd of turd mountain as far as dodgy food choices were concerned.

I’m determined this week will be different. According to the bitch in the bathroom I lost no weight last week, but I didn’t gain any either, so I’ve dodged a bullet and I’m pulling out all the stops. Lets see how much of this arse I can offload in the nineteen days before we set off for Cuba, eh?

Onwards 🙂

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Getting My Shkit Together

In the here & now,

list

As I walked into the house on Wednesday evening, having been to the outdoors shop after work with one of my colleagues who’s also doing the trek, my boy did a double-take. I was wearing my brand new trekking hat, and a backpack bursting at the seams with all manner of stuff including a rolled up sleeping mat and walking poles. He found it utterly hilarious…fucking hell mum, have you joined the SAS? Cheeky knacker.

Earlier that day I’d worked my way through the items on my kit list, ticking off all those that I already had…walking boots and socks, check. That was it, the full extent of my trekking-related accessories. Never one to miss a shopping opportunity, when my friend mentioned he was going to get kitted out I jumped at the chance to tag along.

First stop backpacks. So I have a backpack which I’ve used when we’ve done some of our practice walks, but what became apparent as I stood at the head of the backpack aisle surveying acres of bright colours and bungee cords was that mine wasn’t really a backpack at all. I’d thought maybe I could get away with using it, you know surely if it carries stuff and you can sling it over your shoulder it’ll do the job, right? The fact that it’d come free with my laptop was a minor detail.

When I read the bit in our itinerary where it said that for the first three trekking days we don’t have access to our main luggage, and we have to trek carrying everything we’ll need for three days and two nights including a mat to sleep on and a sleeping bag, the penny dropped that perhaps my laptop bag wouldn’t be quite big enough.

I picked out a beautiful bright red one with black webbing and lots of cool gadgets, and it was all going really well until I tried it on and realised that I couldn’t make the straps fasten. Clearly it wasn’t a backpack designed for fat girls, no way were those hip straps going around my midsection…for fucks sake, I’ve been dieting for a year and I can’t fit into a backpack, what’s that all about?

Several attempts later and with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp I finally settled on a green one which had a more generous portion of strap…only just, mind. I’d better not eat any pies before we set off, that’s all I can say. Anyway that was that, and the backpack was quickly joined by a water bladder, sleeping bag, ground mat, walking poles, mosquito net, my hat, two pairs of walking pants, a couple of moisture-wicking tops, and some waterproofs – I had to buy blokes XXL waterproofs which didn’t improve my mood but at least I’ll be dry and fat if we hit a monsoon, right?

I nearly passed out when she totalled it all up – it’s an expensive business this trekking malarkey. Yesterday I added to my pile and stocked up on shit-stoppers, blister plasters, antiseptic spray, sting cream, anti-histamines…the list goes on, and don’t even get me started on having to spend upwards of a hundred and fifty quid on my rabies vaccination, which was a bit of a shock…the tetanus, typhoid, diphtheria and Hep A ones were all free but even so, if I don’t get bitten by a rabid monkey in the next five years I’m going to be well pissed off.

You know what, I’m almost ready. Three weeks today we leave, and I’m feeling organised. My visa arrived yesterday, and I’ve just got a few more odds and ends to buy…I know it’s been an expensive week but I’m still pinching myself at the fact that I’m actually doing this, you know? A year ago I could barely walk from my house to the car, and certainly walking more than a couple of hundred yards was impossible…now look at me.

Knowing I can do this is worth every penny, and knowing that I’m walking to honour the memory of my dad…well, there are some things you can’t put a price on, right?

If you’d like to read my dad’s story and understand why I chose the mental health charity MIND to benefit from every penny of sponsorship money raised, you can follow this link…and if you’re able to help by donating a couple of quid I’d be truly grateful 🙂

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Rebel Without A Cause

In the here & now, , ,

aaargh

Today’s a new day…it’s a good job, yesterday was shit. My operating system crashed and I was temporarily under the influence of the Asshole voice who was in fine form. I felt slightly bilious when I woke up this morning and it’s hardly surprising…I’m not sure whether it was the half pack of Jaffa Cakes which did it, or whether the two packets of cheese and onion crisps that came immediately before the Jaffa Cakes are the real culprit. Whichever way up you look at it, my diet went to hell in a handcart yesterday. I was bad.

I don’t know why exactly, although I’ve got to be honest I think the pressure of this trek is starting to bite – we leave three weeks tomorrow and it’s all getting very real. The application has gone in for my visa, and I’ve had the first three of six vaccinations that I need…the rest will follow on Thursday this week, next week and then on the actual day of departure, not that I’ve been putting them off or anything. MUCH. My medical form is signed, and I’m busy getting my head around the kit list. I’m really fucking doing this, and I’m standing in that place between excited and terrified, you know?

One or two of you have asked exactly what we’re going to be doing, so here’s a sneaky peak at the itinerary…

Day 1 – Friday 7th October we leave the UK on our flight to Havana, via Madrid of all places. They clearly went cheap option on the flight…on arrival, we meet our local guides and transfer to our hotel.

Day 2 – Drive to Santa Clara and to Lake Hanabanilla – Transfer to Santa Clara where we visit the Che Mausoleum. We continue to our hotel on the banks of Lake Hanabanilla.

Day 3 – Lake Hannabanilla to Guanayara – the trekking starts here. This morning we get the boat across Hanabanilla Reservoir to the southernmost tip of the lake, and then trek for 13km on jeep tracks along a finger of the lake and upstream above the Rio Guanayara. Trekking distance – approx 18km. I’d love to say that at the end of this day we’ll be retiring to a comfortable hotel for a hot bath and maybe a spa treatment but sadly all we get is a tent. With bugs. I’m so not feeling this.

Day 4 – Guanayara to Codina – A tougher trek awaits us as we climb from 380m to 750m. After a long walk yesterday and a night in a tent. Hmmm. Trekking distance – approx. 21km and then another tent. FML.

Day 5 – Codina to Topes de Collantes – Trek for 1½ hours through cafetales to an experimental farm. From here it is 45 minutes down to La Batata. We have lunch at Casa de Juarez followed by a short, steep climb to the hotel for a mid-afternoon arrival and rest. Trekking distance – approx. 14km. I’m liking the sound of this day a bit more to be honest…at least it ends with a mattress and hot and cold running water, right?

Day 6 – Topes de Collantes to Mi Retiro – The toughest but probably most enjoyable day of the challenge. Trek to Caburni Falls along a well-maintained path but testing nonetheless. A narrow path through the jungle leads to Vegas Grandes Falls. After lunch trek through villages to reach Mi Retiro restaurant for an early dinner and then transfer back to our hotel. Trekking distance – approx. 22km. Wow, that’s long.

Day 7 – Topes de Collantes to El Cubano – The day begins with a 20/30 minute transfer. We set off trekking for 2 – 2½ hours along a hillside path to Casa de Ignacio. We continue trekking to Casa de Fabian. Trek to the spectacular Caballero waterfall for a swim in the crystal-clear pool. Well, I say that…some of my fellow travellers might well have a swim but I’m here to tell you you’re not getting me in that water. Unless it’s got tiles on the bottom and no pond-life. From here 45 minutes to the finishing line over a suspension bridge at El Cubano. We then transfer to Trinidad to overnight in a hotel. Trekking distance – approx. 15km. At this point I will be crying with relief, hugging anyone who stands still long enough and taking selfies in front of anything that says Finish Line.

Day 8 – Trinidad and Havana – We have a free morning to sight see in Trinidad. Well, if I can still walk, obviously. Late morning we set off for Havana, having lunch en route in Cienfuegos. We reach Havana and have some free time before enjoying our celebratory dinner.

Day 9 – We are free at leisure until our transfer to the airport for our flight back to the UK.

Day 10 – We land back in the UK having arsed about in Madrid for a bit on the way back.

So, it sounds awesome, right? Yesterday I was convinced I wasn’t ready. Yesterday, I would’ve sold my granny for another six months’ worth of training and dieting before I had to set foot on Cuban soil…I had one of those days where the reality of exactly what I’ve taken on pushed me into a tailspin, and somehow eating crisps and Jaffa Cakes was supposed to help. It didn’t, in case you were wondering.

With today’s more logical perspective I can see I was rebelling…against what exactly, well your guess is as good as mine. I think the pressure got to me, and my sore arm after the shots I had to get tipped me over the edge. I went to an exercise class and then came home and ate my own bodyweight in crap. I am ready. I’ve worked incredibly hard, in fact I’ve thrown everything I’ve got at the preparation for this challenge…damn straight I’m ready.

Like I said, today’s a new day. I’m in deficit at this point on the week…work to do then. Come on, lets keep trucking.

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Fare Thee Well Old Friend

In the here & now, , , ,

waving

I woke up this morning to the most beautiful view. As I opened my eyes and greeted the day, for the first time in a long time I didn’t see a gleaming steel contraption staring right back at me. All I saw was an expanse of oatmeal carpet, with an indentation where four steel feet used to sit…the hurt machine is gone.

It happened by pure chance. Earlier in the week one of my friends at work asked me what type of cross-trainer mine was because she was looking to buy one. Before I had chance to think about it, the words You can buy mine of you like..? jumped right out of my mouth, and with a bit of jiggery pokery the deal was done.

You know me…I never loved it. In fact I couldn’t stand it. I persevered with it, and around the time I joined the Kingdom of Pain I’d built my time up to an hour or more most days…thing is, there was never a time where my workout was done with a light heart, or any sense whatsoever that I was enjoying myself. It bored me rigid, so I learned to do it, but I never learned to love it. And don’t even get me started about the fact that this cold hard steel beast stood in the middle of my beautiful shabby chic bedroom looking stupidly out of place.

But now it’s gone, I can look back fondly. For all my moaning, it served its purpose, you know? I remember writing Buns of Steel after my first attempt at a workout, having expected it to be much easier than it was…my legs were like jelly for a week. But I kept plugging away, and slowly but surely my body started to respond. It got me off the base line and it’s a good job it did…my first session at the Kingdom of Pain almost killed me, so I can’t even imagine how things would’ve worked out if I’d rocked up there without the foundation of five months’ worth of daily cross-training under my belt.

It isn’t the first time I’ve dabbled with an expensive piece of exercise equipment for a while and then turned my back on it in pursuit of something new…you name it, and I can pretty much guarantee that one of them has crossed my threshold at some point. One thing I’ve always been really good at is talking myself into believing that this new shiny thing – whatever it happened to be – was the silver bullet which would kill my fat life dead once and for all.  What I’ve never done however, is wave one off without a sense of guilt that the only real exercise has come from dusting it once in a while. This one did its job…I’ve just outgrown it.

It’s part of my story, an important part actually and I’m grateful for the way in which it helped me to get into the discipline of regular exercise, but I’ve moved on now and for me, the camaraderie, the encouragement and the sense of belonging that I’ve found at the Kingdom of Pain is making exercise enjoyable for the first time in my life. Even though it hurts…who knew! Well, you lot did actually, the wise old owls amongst you told me that would happen. I’ve just signed up for another twelve months, so the hurt machine is officially redundant.

I think the Gods of Skinny witnessed my happy dance on Saturday as I vacuumed over the expanse of oatmeal carpet where the hurt machine used to sit, and you know maybe they worried a little that I’d get complacent..? It seems too much of coincidence that God of Pain upped the ante yesterday morning by bumping me up to a whole new level of workout.

I felt like a rookie all over again, but it’s all progress, right? 🙂

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So, Two Things Happened

In the here & now, ,

PS288398 Feeling Great (oil on canvas) by Scott, Pat (Contemporary Artist); acrylic on calico; Private Collection; English, in copyright

This week’s been a great week, in fact it’s fair to say that although I wasn’t wearing my impressed face when I greeted Monday morning after two weeks off work, it shaped up way better than I was expecting. And that’s not because anything monumental happened, you know like I didn’t win the lottery or get ravished by Hugh Jackman, which are my go-to fantasies when the week needs brightening up a little. It was just a great week.

That said, two things did happen, which wouldn’t justify a diary entry in their own right on the life pages of most folk but you know what, in the context of my journey damn straight they’re getting on the page. Firstly, on Monday I wore heels.

I know! I can’t pinpoint the exact time in my journey up the scale where heels became too difficult, although that’s not surprising…during that whole time I didn’t acknowledge any of the signs that the wheels were slowly coming off. That would’ve required me to deal head on with the fact that I was eating myself to the brink, you know? However, whether I acknowledged it at the time or not, there’s definitely a point on the fatness scale where flat shoes become your only friend.

Your centre of gravity takes a direct hit as extra rolls of flesh pop out here and there, and the weight of your body can no longer be thrown forward onto the ball of your foot, because it hurts too much. So the heels get lower and lower until you end up with flat as the only option…I lived in Ugg boots and slippers for at least a year.

Anyway, I’d been saving the excitement of wearing a pair of black trousers with a fixed waistband and no stretch for my first post-holiday day in the office. Those pants haven’t fitted me for at least five years but I knew they fit me now, and I was good to go except when I put them on I remembered that the legs were way too long…I’d always worn them with my pointy black boots. So I grappled with the whole should I take them off again, not ready for heels yet debate before thinking fuck it, it’s now or never. Out came the pointy black boots with their three inch heels.

I’d like to say I glided around the office with a degree of elegance throughout the day, but the reality is I just looked taller and a bit wobbly. But my pants didn’t trail on the floor and I made it to the end of the day, admittedly slightly footsore and not in any rush to pull them back on again any time soon, but I did it. My body allowed me to wear heels and walk. 

The second big milestone this week was wearing a bra, like a proper bra as opposed to the kind of stretchy crop-top type garment which keeps the girls in check without giving any kind of shape whatsoever. Same as with heels, there comes a point where underwear becomes problematic, you know?

As I got bigger and bigger, I relied on bra-clasp extenders which coaxed a little extra life out of my stretched and tired old bunbags but even then there came a point where I felt like I had cheese wire pulled tight across my upper body, digging in and accentuating the rolls of flesh on my torso. I’d often have weals on the side of my body by the end of the day. Discovering the crop top bras with deep sides and no wires took away the discomfort, along with any suggestion of shape.

Last week, I bought myself some new bras, and this week they got their first outings…I’ve gotta say my norks looked awesome. Lets be honest, my spare tyre and the underwires are never going to see eye to eye especially after more years than I can count wearing the slouchy comfort of elastane, but the new bras fit, and they’re not cutting me in half. Come on, I was perky…that’s got to be worth a bit of negotiation with my midriff, right?

It’s all coming together. Every day just lately there seems to be something else I can do, or something else that’s just a bit easier…little by little I’m chipping away at the fat suit.

New bra and heels..? I’m not on the pull, honest 🙂

 

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