Monthly Archives: November 2016

Why Am I Even Debating This?

In the here & now,

debate

I don’t know about you but these dark and cold mornings are not supporting my efforts to get up and out of bed with any kind of enthusiasm, especially when I’ve booked into an early morning exercise class. I must have laid in bed for twenty minutes or more yesterday trying to think of an excuse why going to box-lite was a bad idea.

It’s a good job I came up blank otherwise that snooze button would’ve been pushed with indecent haste. But I couldn’t help thinking, as I drove to the Kingdom of Pain how draining it is every day to have the same debate with myself on a loop. I should go – I don’t want to go – I need to go – I’ll go tomorrow instead – can’t, won’t finish work on time – I could book in and then say I’m stuck in traffic – stop being ridiculous, I’ll enjoy it once I get there…on and on and on. Every time.

Why do I do that? I do enjoy it when I get there, and I enjoy the feeling afterwards. It’s just the thought of going in the first place that puts a spanner in the works. And that doesn’t make sense to me. I mean, let’s imagine for a second that I was going to the cinema, which I also enjoy. I wouldn’t have to steel myself to get off my arse and go, would I? And the cinema doesn’t even leave me with a surplus of endorphins to make me feel good. Well, unless Hugh Jackman’s in the movie, obviously. *Leers*

I can’t think of any other example of anything where I like doing it but try my best to come up with reasons not to do it. Other things which I don’t especially enjoy doing, like housework, or supermarket shopping just happen without this ridiculous negotiation with the asshole voice, so what is it about exercise that makes it different..? The long standing hatred of getting off my arse which I’ve harboured all my life is clearly more deeply engrained than I realised.

I don’t hate exercise now, but my mind is taking quite a lot longer than my body to cotton on to that fact and get with the programme…I went from hating it, to being irritated by the fact that I had to do it (and just getting on with it through gritted teeth) to the point where I am now…I appreciate the opportunity to poke those endorphins and feel like I’ve earned my tired. And yet. I still have to negotiate with myself before I can bring myself to to pull on my stretchy pants and go work out.

Is it just me? If you want to tip the contents of your own head out and share any insight you may have as to how I can flick the switch from let’s discuss this to let’s go, well that would be awesome. I often hear people say yeah well that’s non-negotiable, and that’s what I want to get to, you know? That place where working out is non-negotiable instead of it being up for debate every single fucking time.

Thoughts?

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Scraping A Two.

In the here & now, , , ,

wagon

So this last week was going to be my super-clean eating week, right? As I gazed at the week ahead last Sunday, clearly I overlooked the night-in-with-gin and the day trip to London (which, by the way was all kinds of awesome) which had the potential to make the wheels come off my plan. Keeping my shit together requires me to call out stuff like that with a big red warning triangle in my head.

I’d probably have emerged from underneath last week clutching a gold star if I hadn’t returned to the Kingdom of Pain on Thursday, to be greeted by the stern-faced man mountain inviting me to hop on the scales. I’m here to tell you there was no hopping going on…as I hoisted myself up, I felt like everything was going in slow motion, you know? I reckon it was the weight of impending doom that slowed everything right down. I’d been inactive and armchair-ridden for more than a week so the prospect of a weigh-in didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Surprisingly, I’d worried for nothing. Between Sunday morning when I drew my line in the sand, and Thursday evening, I’d somehow shaken three unwelcome pounds off my arse and that was enough to dodge the bullet which God of Pain reserves specially for folk who aren’t achieving greatness in the weight-loss stakes. Phew.

Except, in my head that gave me licence to get up to devilment this weekend. The Asshole inside my head put forward a very convincing argument that I was unlikely to be subjected to the bitch in God of Pain’s office again for at least two weeks, so I could take my foot off a little, just for my birthday celebrations and maybe the day trip to London.

Come on Dee, really where’s the harm? There’s no fire to put out…there’s no mountain looming which requires you to be a certain weight is there? So it’ll take you a week longer to get in those size twelve skinny jeans, I mean big deal…you’re at least a fucking year away from wearing them anyway so what’s another week? You can take this at your own pace, come on lighten up, it’s your birthday…

So I did. Take it at my own pace I mean. Depending on which way you look at it, I managed to be both quick and slow at the same time, like some kind of dieting foxtrot. The only thing I slowed down was my progress, and everything else speeded right up…the speed at which I said yes please to a banana and maple syrup muffin on the train for example was lightening-quick.

And once I’d got a taste for it, the speed at which I pinched my mum’s banana and maple syrup muffin bordered on indecent once I’d established she didn’t want it. There was no cooling off period where the muffin sat untouched on the tray table whilst she decided…all it took was one almost-curl of her nose and I was all over that muffin faster than she could form the words to turn it down.

The fresh fruit option got ignored in favour of strawberry yoghurt and granola as a pre-cursor to the muffin and given how good that yoghurt tasted, trust me when I say it hadn’t come out of the low-fat corner of the kitchen. So between Leeds and London I fell off the wagon. And once we were in London, I went under the wheels completely.

I ate a burger. And I don’t mean a skinny little mass-produced plastic burger, oh no…this was the real deal…a burger that knew how to be a burger, with all the trimmings. Like the fries for example.

I didn’t just order fries, I ordered fries covered in cheese and bacon bits. I’ve never tasted anything so divine in my whole entire life…do you know how long it is since I ate cheese..? Shit the bed, it was awesome. This was our pre-matinee theatre lunch. Mum’s Cobb salad looked really good, I would have been more than happy with that myself on any other day. Just not this day. This day, the Asshole voice totally knocked it out of the park.

I didn’t even leave it with the burger. I had honey and ginger ice-cream in the theatre between acts one and two, and then a sandwich and two more muffins on the train journey home.

Yesterday was Sunday. Weigh day. And oh look, I appear to have reloaded one of those pounds…what a fucking surprise, said nobody at all.

Ah well…it is what it is. I had a ball, and my net position is okay. We’re back on track and this week there are no days out or catered meals. It’s just a normal week, with no warning triangles on my calendar and I’m on it. Please God I’m on it…cross my heart 🙂

 

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Making Like A Sloth

In the here & now,

Sloth Rainforest Two Toed Lazy Mammal Hanging Sloths

Did somebody pinch some time from me this week? I blinked and all of a sudden it’s Friday…how did that happen? I suspect it’s a combination of me feeling as rough as toast in the first half of the week, and being so busy at work that I’ve mainly come home every night and conked out in the chair with an overwhelming sense that I’d run out of steam.

I went back to the Kingdom of Pain last night for the first time in over a week – I haven’t been working out on the advice of his nibs, who said I had to wait until I was feeling better and I didn’t take much persuading to stay home to be be honest. Me and my reclining chair have had a beautiful thing going on this week.

It’s strange though, despite the fact that yesterday on the way there I was half hoping God of Pain would  say no, not yet, go home you’re still sick, afterwards I could feel the energy coursing through my body, like I’d swallowed some kind of magic potion. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’d rasped and wheezed my way around the pain stations and wanted to die several times over whilst I was actually doing the do, but somehow it managed to perk me up.

Isn’t it amazing how easy it is to forget that that happens? I feel tons better today.

I’m celebrating my birthday tonight with one of my best buddies…my birthday was actually yesterday but it was a work day and a very busy one at that, so tonight I shall be mainly letting my hair down and drinking gin, which is sort of mandatory when we get together…we only really manage it once in a blue moon. It won’t get too messy because a) I’m being very very good and gin tends to make me misbehave (depending on your perspective 🙂 ) and b) I have an early start tomorrow.

Me and my boy are taking my mum to London to see The Lion King…it’s her early Christmas present, because when you get to your mid-eighties it’s all about making memories isn’t it? We’ve seen it before, a couple of times in fact but mum hasn’t and she’s going to love it. So I’m very excited…it’s going to be a lovely weekend with lots of treats which is exactly how it should be on your birthday weekend, right? I even have new pyjamas to lounge about in during our gin-fest, and there’s nothing quite so nice as fresh-out-of-the-bag PJ’s. It’s my idea of heaven.

So things should be back to normal after the weekend…my lurgy should be long gone, there’ll be no election shenanigans to keep me up late and glued to the TV and I can settle back into the routine of work, working out and picking over every bump in the road with you lot.

Happy Friday everyone…chin chin, and have a cracking weekend 🙂

 

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It’s Going To Be A Beaut

In the here & now, , ,

optimism

So it was a great weekend at Foxy Lodge, all things considered. I got there late and proceeded to cough and splutter my way through the weekend with a bit of a dodgy chest, in fact right now I sound like I’ve been smoking forty Capstan full-strength on a daily basis for the last twenty years. One of the gang almost didn’t make it at all due to a whoopsie on the stairs a few days ago which resulted in blue flashing lights and a broken bone, but even though we were a bit battle-scarred we’ve still pretty much laughed our way through the last couple of days. I love my girlies to the moon and back again.

Most importantly, I’m not emerging from the other side of my weekend with any bruises on my conscience as a result of me being really naughty. I had some drinks, I had some nibbles and I didn’t smart-point my meals, but we’ve eaten plenty of healthy stuff and I didn’t go mad. Well, I went mad on grapes actually, but not on anything bad. I walked a bit, and I found a balance that I was happy with and it just felt normal.

And yesterday, well I was right back to counting points and I’m happy to do it. I’ve got a good run at this now, come on lets make a dint in those regained pounds this week. There were six of the unwelcome little fuckers re-glued to my arse by the time I drew a line in the sand last week, did I mention that? No, *coughs* I didn’t think I had. Well there we go then…their ass belongs to me in the month of November, and by the time December gets here they’ll be toast. Six pounds on is what one bad month looks like in my world…now allow me to demonstrate what a good month is all about. November you’re going to be a beaut.

I’ve got a couple of fairly tough days coming up this week…I’m working until mid afternoon tomorrow and then I’ll be on a train for around seven hours followed by an overnight stay, and one meeting the following morning before I have to do the whole thing again in reverse. Two days when my sustenance will need to come from the best that the buffet car can offer…unless.

I need a plan. There’s an M&S Simply Food in the station, so here’s what I’ll do. I’m going to stock up on the snacky things I love to eat and can easily count as part of my food budget. I’ll get some fruit and a table picnic for my journey and that way I know I’ll be able to steer clear of the chocolate muffins and Haribo and ten-fingered kit-lats which usually seduce me as they go past on the catering trolley.

That sounds simple doesn’t it? Plus, I’ll have you lot to keep me company – well, on the way down at least….you’re my secret weapon. On Wednesday as I’m heading home I’ll be working pretty much all the way, but on the way down it’ll be evening all bar a couple of hours so I can chat to you guys and draft Wednesday’s blog post which will keep my hands from feeding my face with anything on the banned substance list, right? Don’t you just love a plan.

Apart from feeling a bit grim with my ropey old chest, I’m happy and optimistic going into this week…it’s the first one in a while where I’ve got a number in mind for my encounter with the bitch in the bathroom next week, and I’m going for it, big time. I’m not allowed to work out until my chest infection has gone, so right now it’s all about managing what goes in my mouth.

Come on, I can do this…let the dog see the rabbit 🙂

 

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Challenge By Challenge

In the here & now, , , ,

cabin

So the first half of the week hasn’t been bad, in fact I went to bed on Tuesday night with a chunk of food budget left in the bank. I know! I stood in front of the fridge wondering what I could have with my remaining daily Smart Point and it struck me that I didn’t really want anything. I could’ve licked the corner of a Malteser, you know? Mind you, I’d just eaten a huge portion of melon and was nursing a significant food baby at the time, but even so it’s the first time in a while where I’ve underspent my budget.

Maybe it’s because I’d just been mooching on-line and totally blown my actual budget on another handbag, which I didn’t need and couldn’t really afford…maybe I just needed to demonstrate to myself that I AM in fact capable of acting with restraint..? Whatever the reason I’m claiming it as a victory. And the handbag is gorgeous (shoot me now) 🙂

I was in a full day off-site meeting yesterday where lunch was provided, and being familiar with the venue I know it’s never very healthy so I’d prepared a boxed salad to take with me, and I just asked the restaurant manager for a little bit of ham. I’m trying to get right back into the discipline of proper planning, you know? Last week I was in the same venue and I almost broke my neck at lunchtime getting to the sandwiches and chips but this week I headed my fat thinking off at the pass and it was no drama at all, the guy was happy to help.

My challenge is going to come this weekend…it’s our bi-annual girly get together. If you’ve been reading along for a while you’ll remember the last time, where all my friends turned up with exercise gear for the first time ever in support of my training regime. It was a real departure from our usual drink-your-own-bodyweight-in-prosecco and eat naughties ‘till your eyes pop out kind of weekend, and don’t get me wrong, the bottle bank saw a fair bit of action as we left, but their support made it easier for me to stay in the right mindset all weekend – I made it work for me.

This time, given my recent wobble I’m planning very carefully. I’m going to walk on Saturday…it’s a beautiful spot and if I get three or four miles in I’ll go some way to counteracting the prosecco and an odd treat here or there. I’m going to take masses of fruit, and try not to eat loads of chocolate. And Sunday, as we leave, is a brand new shiny week so any indiscretions can be wiped off the map, right?

Being in this for the long haul goes right back to finding some kind of balance…it has to work for me. If I’m sat there resenting the fact that all my friends can have things I can’t it’s going to piss me right off and I’m likely to face-plant into the naughties at warp speed without a second thought.

I know I planned a super-clean eating week this week, but actually these weekends with my friends are precious and no way do I intend to sit off to the side sipping water and nibbling a fucking carrot stick. Of course it’s about the company not the food and lets be honest, if I can go to Las Vegas for five days with this gorgeous lot and lose a pound, managing a weekend in a log cabin without the wheels coming off should be a walk in the park. Even when my head’s had a wobble and the Asshole who lives in there has had a higher than average strike rate over recent weeks.

I’m playing the long game. I always come home from these weekends with my soul lifted by gossip and giggles and the joy of spending time with friends who get me and whose company is effortless. I’m planning to step out of the weekend on the other side without regrets and if I’ve consumed my own bodyweight in crap I won’t be able to. So I’m not going to. Challenge by challenge eh? I can do this.

I’m posting early because I’m tied up tomorrow and then I’m scooting off to the middle of nowhere with my besties for two days of R&R. Have a great weekend everyone and see you on the other side 🙂

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