Monthly Archives: September 2016

You Bet Your Sweet Ass I Would

In the here & now, ,

failure

It’s funny you know, the way in which our chatter back and forth can gently set me straight about things which have bothered me. It’s one of the most special things about the friendship and support that I’ve found in our little community – your perspective on things often changes my own, and when I’m getting chewed up about stuff, a wise word here or there gives me pause for thought.

Something Fleury said last week really resonated, when she was empathising about the gym instructor on the ship making me feel awkward about getting involved in the fitness classes. Fleury said you know if she’d worked for you, you’d have had a come to Jesus moment with her…you bet your sweet ass I would. And that got me to thinking.

I’d taken six lots of gym kit with me because I’d planned to work out every day. And when I didn’t, I found myself feeling a bit defensive about it…I just had this nagging feeling that I’d failed. Another good intention gone out of the window, you know? And that’s an uncomfortable place to be…my Asshole voice was all over it.

Anyone who’s ever failed at anything will understand how that feeling of not doing what you know you should do can put a real dink in your self-esteem. My failure to get into the gym and work out chewed at me all week, even with all the active stuff I was doing like climbing mountains and the odd waterfall here and there. It especially got to me when I was packing to come home and I had to move a ton of freshly laundered and mostly unused exercise gear back into my suitcase from the drawer where they’d largely been ignored all week.

That woman, the gym instructor…for all her golden limbs and rippling abs, she wasn’t a fitness guru to the stars, you know? She wasn’t some kind of world renowned personal trainer who could cherry pick her clients and charge them a fortune to help them sculpt the perfect body. She worked on a cruise ship, and she had one job. She was there to make me feel welcome, and included, maybe even inspired…well breaking news, she failed. She did a shit job at making me feel welcome and included because she was way too far up her own bum. Her problem, not mine, right?

I had one job too – to maintain a focus on my healthy lifestyle whilst I was enjoying myself on holiday. And despite giving the gym a wide berth, I did exactly that. She failed, but I didn’t. And once I’d gotten my head around that, I stopped feeling bad about ducking my work outs.

I wonder whether she ever gave me a second thought? You know, whether she ever wondered what happened to the fat blonde who was there knocking on the door as soon as she got on the ship, making noises about wanting to work out because she’d lost a bunch of weight and was in training for something or other…blah blah blah. I doubt that she did, in fact I barely made it onto her radar whilst I was stood in front of her but to be honest I don’t really care. I’m over it. I popped the balloon and let it go…she was a dick, The End.

Fleury’s perspective helped me to process all that…I might have got there on my own, eventually, but it’s awesome to be able to turbo-charge my thought process using a healthy dose of common sense from one of you who’s walked a mile in these battered old shoes and picked up a little wisdom along the way.

I didn’t fail.

You all make a difference with your comments and your insight, and I’m forever grateful 🙂

 

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Some Kind Of Balance

In the here & now, , ,

balance

I woke up yesterday morning feeling very skinny, which is odd when you consider that I’m still one hundred and two pounds heavier than I intend to be this time next year. But then, don’t you think feeling skinny is a subjective thing anyway? I have a friend who often says I’m having a fat day today, as she stands there in all her skinniness looking for all the world like she needs to eat a meal. But in that skinny moment she feels fat, in the same way that I laid in bed yesterday morning with all my spare tyres feeling skinny.

The truth of the matter is that I’m nearer to skinny than I’ve been in recent years. I’m back at my pre-holiday weight, in fact I’m a pound under and you know what that means…the last couple of weeks have gone according to plan. Well, ish. I wanted to come back from holiday weighing the same as when I went, and if we discount the few days where my plumbing went into lockdown, I pretty much pulled it off.

I feel so proud of that. I’m proud of the fact that I managed to get straight back on track from the minute I came home – I’ve not managed to do that too many times in my life – yeah, try never – and I’ve spent the last few days trying to put my finger on exactly what’s been different this time.

I think it’s because although I spent a few days with my foot off the gas, I never actually disengaged my head from this journey. In the past, when I’ve pressed pause on a diet, it’s involved ripping up sensible altogether – if I’m not going to be very very good then sod it, I’m going to be very very bad…you get the picture. No point in being good at dinner when I’ve been wicked at lunch! No point in exercising because my diet’s gone to shit so what’s the point! All or nothing, which is the sort of crooked thinking which has derailed many weight-loss attempts over the years. My past is littered with them.

This time I managed to keep a watching brief on everything I ate, even though I ate a lot. Well, with the notable exception of the rocky road dessert. I still don’t have a scooby doo how many portions of that I actually ate. However, most other naughties were noted and enjoyed, without guilt but with acknowledgement that I’d have to work extra hard to deal with the consequences, whether that was on holiday or after I came home. My head accepted that…and it stayed in the game.

I squeezed in extra opportunities to exercise, like getting back off the ship to walk the steps in Alesund, and climbing up that waterfall on the morning of the day where I’d already booked a challenging hike in the afternoon. I didn’t have to do those things, but all the time I was focused on keeping some kind of balance. More food? Right then…more exercise too.

I didn’t need to get my head back in the game when I came home because the truth is, it never stepped out. And you know what, I’m feeling more sure footed than ever now I’ve proved to myself that thinking about things in a different way made me act in a different way. I pulled it off…how cool is that.

I’ve got this. One hundred and two pounds to go.

This time next year… 🙂

 

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Nothing Happened Here

In the here & now, , , , ,

happy dance

So I’ve got to be honest, waking up with the rocky road spoon in my bed made me laugh out loud, but it also served as a reminder of the way things used to be with me. And along with the spoon came not a small amount of regret for allowing myself to get carried away in the moment, well several moments if we’re being honest. I did some quick mental calculations as to exactly how badly I’d fubar’d and it was a wake-up call…enough now.

The last two days I was fairly sensible. I had to go see the ship’s doctor on Thursday after a miserable day walking around Bergen with earache – well, miserable until 1) I walked into a clothes shop in the town and came out with four off-the-peg garments which fit me 🙂 and 2) I met the ship’s doctor who looked like he’d just stepped off a movie set. When I shook his hand and said hello I was practically leering. I reminded myself of Sid James clocking Barbara Windsor’s chesticles, which is a bit embarrassing given that he probably wasn’t much older than my boy.

Anyway, being loaded up with antibiotics along with the earache made me feel a bit crappy so on our last day at sea I was very lethargic and the exercise thing just didn’t happen…I think the most energetic thing I did was turn the pages of my book.

Reflecting on the awesome week and chatting it all through with my friend as we waited to disembark, I estimated that the likely outcome of the week I’d had would see the bitch in the bathroom serve me up a two pound gain the following day. Two pounds sounded fair, you know? Deserved…I’d worked hard but I’d played hard too, and I was ready to embrace two pounds as being totally worth that exquisite Chateaubriand, and the incomparable jaffa cake desert, and the customary poke about the cheese board which by the end of the week had become a regular thing…the ice creams and the waffle and all my other little indiscretions…two pounds sounded about right.

Eight pounds on the other hand, did not. I must have spent at least half an hour on Sunday morning nudging that fucking scale around every tile on the bathroom floor trying to source at least one favourable reading, but no…eight pounds, I mean come on. No way did I consume nearly thirty thousand extra calories over the course of the week and anything I did eat was offset against a ton of active stuff…I was beyond pissed off.

It was still showing that unwelcome number by Tuesday, despite me hitting Sunday head on with as strong a resolve as ever, getting straight back onto my regular food plan and walking Charlie for at least five miles every day since I’ve been back. The first session back in the Kingdom of Pain was horrendous. It was like going right back to my first ever session, I felt so sluggish and everything was hard. And then suddenly, (forgive me being indelicate) it occurred to me that it might have been four or five days since I’d been…you know, for a visit.

Now, I don’t know about you and your ablutionary habits, but me, I’m a bit vague. I don’t really give it much thought…not like some folk I’ve known, who want to call a press conference if nothing’s happened daily by 10am. Me, well pardon the pun, shit just happens. Except since probably Thursday last week in my case it hadn’t. Oh my God I can’t even believe I’m talking about this in here…there’s honest, and then there’s too much information, right?

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I’d felt the full force of God of Pain’s disapproval after his scale revealed the same number as mine, but he dispensed some words of wisdom relating to prunes when I filled him in on what was emerging in my mind as the front runner culprit for the outrageous weight gain and feeling of being bloated. And having followed his advice, lets just say over the last couple of days mother nature did her thing.

I hopped on God of Pain’s scales again last night before my fat furnace session and I’m very happy to report that I’m now just one pound heavier than I was before my holiday, and that’ll be gone by Sunday. Nothing happened here. I went, I had a ball, and I earned most of my treats as I went along. I enjoyed every single one of them, and now I’m on it like a car bonnet.

As soon as I got home I went right back to my own new normal, and contrary to any worries I might have had, I’ve done it without a fight. I swear, I could do my happy dance for twenty four hours straight up. And I can honestly say that I am just as determined as I was last year when I got back from holiday and started my diet…it’s all good.

So…next stop Cuba. Five weeks today we fly out for what will without doubt be the most physically challenging five days of my life, so it’s all systems go here for the final push. I’d like to take off at least another ten pounds before we leave so there’s hard work to be done…let’s get to it 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!