Monthly Archives: November 2017

Walking On Quicksand

In the here & now, ,

You know when I was a little girl, I couldn’t imagine what quicksand was all about. Clear as anything, I remember the day my mum told me about it and I was fascinated by the concept that the ground beneath your feet could suck you down and swallow you whole. I had nightmares about it for weeks afterwards and I’m not kidding when I say it was years after that conversation before I set foot on a beach again, I mean there was no point in taking chances, right? As far as I was concerned, fat girls would sink quicker.

I don’t know for sure, but I imagine this is what it feels like, to walk on quicksand. With every step forward, it seems like I’m getting sucked further and further away from the next step forward after that. Wednesday was my day one, and it was going okay until I had a little wobble over a catered lunch. I pulled it back in the nick of time but dwelled on my semi-okay lunch all afternoon.

It turned out to be a really long day. I’d done no planning whatsoever, on account of getting back from my weekend away too late the day before. I figured I’d just wing it in a healthy way. Because I’m good at doing that…ah. That’s right, my bad…I’m not good at doing that. I knew it was one of those. Who the fuck am I kidding?

When I walked through the door after twelve hours and a long commute, off the back of a night with disturbed sleep listening for robbers, my resolve cracked into a million pieces and I fell headlong into the wrong kind of supper. You don’t need the detail, but it was a definite screw-up. I’d also missed my exercise class after getting stuck in traffic. I was tired and I was still freaking out about bad men in my back yard so I didn’t go swim either. In the space of an hour I pissed off the God of Pain, irked my boy and ate my bodyweight in crap.

However, I got up yesterday and had another stab at it. Even though I was tired and grumpy after yet another disturbed night, where between the hours of one and five sleep had eluded me in favour of having ears on high alert whilst Charlie-dog snored quietly right next to me. I ignored all that and threw myself into the business of day one. And last night when I got in I ate a healthy supper. Go me, right?

Wrong. I’d actually used up all my calories by mid-afternoon so technically no matter how healthy my supper was, I shouldn’t have been eating supper at all.

I’m acutely aware that I’m bouncing around all over the fucking place. But I’m trying to be forgiving of myself. I’ve had a massive shock and my defences are low on account of all this broken sleep. There’s no question that at the moment, my Asshole voice is ruling the roost.

I do have a plan. A friend of mine is coming to sort out my CCTV today, and install security lighting, service my burglar alarm system and fit additional locks to the back door. That will help me sleep more soundly in my bed. I’ve not wanted to leave the house un-guarded this week but I think all the additional security will encourage me to stop acting like a fucking drama queen. And stop eating the wrong kind of supper.

It’s been a funny old week. But today is day one, right? Let’s hope this one sticks…I’d love to meet day two tomorrow 🙂

 

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Going Forwards By Choice

In the here & now, , ,

So I must start with an apology for all those of you who follow my Shitbird page…I promised to update the page a day early on account of the fact that I was going to be away on Sunday, but I ran into a spot of bother on Friday evening when I caught two blokes dressed in black from head to toe and wearing balaclavas trying to break into my house whilst I was in it.

Thankfully I wasn’t here alone, my friend had arrived for our weekend away and actually she’s the one who heard the noise as they tried to force their way into the back of the house. They scarpered when they realised someone was home, and it’s a good job they did because in that moment, as I saw them through the glass in the back door and realised what was happening I was so fucking furious that anyone felt they had a right to try and batter their way into my house that I flung the door open and gave chase.

I know. It’s the very last thing I should have done, but apparently it appears I am more fight than flight. I’m not sure I’ve ever been tested before, but at least now I know, right? My bravado didn’t last long, and after the adrenaline stopped coursing through my veins, my whole body turned to jelly. I drank a stiff gin, ate a pizza then called the police, in that order.

It was awful, and I’m joking with y’all about it now but I was genuinely shaken. Then I got mad again, then I got upset. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go away and leave my boys home alone which is irrational since my son is almost thirty, stands six feet three inches in his socks and he’s as solid as a rock. If he’d been home at the time he’d likely have managed to grab at least one of them and I can’t vouch for how the would-be burglar might have fared. Being fat and fifty proved to be my undoing as they sprinted across the garden and vaulted the six-foot fence…I was never going to catch them. Thank God.

Anyway, all that to say it threw me off my stride. I slept a bit fitfully on Friday night, and it’s fair to say my head was up my arse on Saturday morning as I threw some things in a bag for our weekend away. We pressed on with our plans to take mum out for lunch before we left for the airport, but my head was preoccupied by visions of a band of robbers hiding behind every bush in the fucking garden waiting for me to leave the house. I completely forgot to weigh in, and I didn’t remember until halfway through Sunday that I hadn’t done it but by that time I was in Krakow, and the Shitbird scale wasn’t.

My eating has been horrible, all weekend. I propped myself up with sugar on Saturday, and whilst I’m not using what happened on Friday as an excuse – like I ever bloody needed one – I’ve had another long weekend of food carnage. In my defence, we have walked our socks off…we covered twenty miles on foot in the three days we’ve been away, which might have helped to counteract some of the food debauchery, but if I were a betting man I’d wager that I’ve continued to go in the wrong direction.

So I find myself standing at a crossroads. I can go backwards and continue to dick around until I’ve eaten myself right back to square one, or I can go forwards by getting my shit together and choosing the right path, the one with clean eating and no food abuse.

I know I have to reset. I’m choosing to go forwards. And as luck would have it, God of Pain texted me yesterday to ask when I was going back to start training again. I texted him back with the intention of saying I’m not sure but my fingers betrayed me and typed tomorrow…I’m coming back tomorrow. I don’t feel ready but I’ve gone and fucking said it out loud now. And maybe backing myself into a corner is just what I needed.

So that’s how come I find myself with my workout clothes laid out ready for a body pump class this evening, and my swimsuit laid next to them ready for an hour’s swim after that. Body pump because I promised God of Pain, and swimming because I promised my boy. I’ll enjoy the swimming, it’ll help to relax my screaming muscles…body pump is going to kill me.

It’s Wednesday 15th November, and today is a new day.

It’s day one. And it doesn’t even matter that it’s day one, again. I fell down, and I got up again. There’s no shame in that.

I’ll weigh in on Sunday. I’m not giving the Shitbird any opportunity to derail my new start. It’s too fragile and I’ve decided I’m the one in charge of my head today.

Hour by hour, right?

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The New Enemy In Town

In the here & now, ,

Well I’m here to confirm that after eighty hours of being sugar-free (apart from my accidental hob-nob marshmallow) I’m surviving the experience and actually the sugar cravings haven’t been too bad. Except I woke up this morning thinking about cheese.

Now, I’m about to ‘fess up, and if me talking about food is likely to tip you over the edge you might want to look away now so you don’t get ambushed by my personal self-destruct button.

The reason I woke up thinking about cheese this morning is because yesterday I ate cheese. Actually, I ate a lot more than just cheese. I ate a dirty bacon sandwich when I arrived to meet my colleagues for a working day out of the office, and I’d already eaten breakfast before I left home so it wasn’t the best start…still, everyone else was having one and I hopped aboard the bacon train and joined in regardless.

To be fair, we did then go for a nice long walk around a country park to do a bit of open-air thinking and that might have mitigated the bacon a little bit, except when we got back to the hotel it was time for lunch. Lasagne probably wasn’t the healthiest choice on the lunch menu, especially combined with a side of skinny fries…I did tell her to hold the rocket, which might have saved me three calories. Maybe even four, at a push.

The lasagne was all kinds of awesome, with it’s bubbly cheese and béchamel sauce, all of which I can still taste if I close my eyes. But there was no sugar. Well, no sugar that I could see. Fat, yes. But no sugar. So technically it wasn’t a cheat, right?

I know. Don’t even say it. All the way home in the car I was trying to justify what I’d eaten on the basis that I didn’t have dessert. I tried to guesstimate the calories, and if I take our not-far-off-ten-thousand-steps walk into consideration, and the hour’s swim I put in last night I probably netted out somewhere near to neutral.

Except I can’t now stop thinking about fucking cheese.

I don’t allow myself melted bubbly cheese ever, because it’s definitely one of my trigger foods. As I’m finding out to my cost…there’s a new enemy in town. Sugar? Sugar who? Forget sugar, today I’m lusting after cheese. I’m still not entirely sure what sat behind my dodgy food-choices yesterday but it’s another example of me going off-piste and white knuckling my way through the week.

This too shall pass.

It’s my birthday today, not that I celebrate birthdays much any more. They seem to come and go at warp speed now I’m getting on a bit you know? Still, I’ve got an exciting weekend lined up…my bestie arrives this evening, I haven’t see her since we went to Italy in June and after taking mum out for lunch tomorrow we’re heading off to Krakow for a long weekend.

I’ll be staying away from sugar. I’m hoping that by the time we return my head will be more willing to help me take a straight run at the remaining six weeks of the year in a way which suggests I mean business…not before fucking time, right?

I’ll be back on Wednesday folks, have a great weekend 🙂

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Two Days And Counting

In the here & now, ,

So I’m two days into my sugar divorce and I’m doing okay. I’ve only had one slip up and that was sort of an accident. Well I’m saying an accident, actually it was more of a reflex action. Someone was passing a tub of chocolate-covered hob nob marshmallows from table to table in a training course I was helping to run yesterday. I didn’t notice it heading towards me, but when the tub came at me from the left, I shoved one in my mouth and passed it to my right.

My arm responded to that tub of hob-nob chocolate in the same way me knee would’ve responded to a reflex hammer…there was bugger-all thought involved whatsoever on my part.

Yes, I know. I sat with that hob-nob marshmallow on my tongue and thought Shit! I’m not supposed to be eating this…

I didn’t feel it was appropriate to spit the damned thing out again, I mean that would make me a weirdo, right? So I made the most of my accidental snack, and sucked it until I only had one little oat left in the middle of my tongue. Which I appreciate still makes me a tiny bit weird, I mean who sucks a marshmallow..? The important thing is, I didn’t compound the situation by eating a bunch more of them and it only cost me thirty three calories.

I’d love to claim full credit for resisting the temptation to go back for more, but actually there were none left once everyone had pitched in. What do you mean, did I look? You fucking know I did. But, even with the taste of chocolate on my tongue I didn’t go find something else instead when I realised the tub was empty and I could have, because there was a shop and cafe dead opposite where we were working.

I don’t think that one indiscretion means I have to re-set the dial. I’ve got fifty six hours and one cock-up under my belt but I don’t feel any worse for having eaten it, and I’ve definitely got less sugar running through my veins than I did two days ago. Seriously, I’m as grouchy as it’s possible to be without actually ripping someone’s face off. Maybe I should be duct-taped to the bed with someone standing guard as I go cold turkey but so far, with the exception of that one incident it’s largely been uneventful. I’m coping, even if my turkey is still only lukewarm.

I did sack off the idea of going swimming last night, so I’m not entirely behaving like a skinny girl. The length swim last night was 9pm-10pm and by that time I’d been in pyjamas for three hours and I seriously couldn’t be arsed. My boy raised an eyebrow and commented that before the holiday I would’ve gone without thinking and he’s right, so there’s definitely still work to do on shifting the holiday mindset.

The fact that he noticed – and commented – has closed off my option of bumming for two days in a row though, so I’ll definitely be in the pool tonight… 🙂

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It’s Only Ninety Six Hours

In the here & now, ,

Right, *stamps foot* that’s enough now. I can’t do this any more and I’m ready to come out fighting.

I’ve been upbeat, downbeat, on the wagon then under the wheels all within the space of an hour, pretty much every hour right the way through the week. I had food sobriety in my grasp for the first couple of days, then I wobbled, then I lost it altogether, then I pulled it back, then I wobbled again.

I got weighed yesterday and I didn’t have a clue what to make of the number. It was down from last week, but then last week might have been falsely inflated after the holiday, so I don’t really know whether this week I’ve gone forwards or backwards. All I know is the week has been a hot mess and I can’t carry on like that. I’m turning into a fucking basket case.

I don’t even have the words to tell you how much I crave stability, and peace of mind. The first six months of this year were awesome. Cast your mind back, I mean I was really on my game, you know? Sure, steady steps, and steady progress. I want to walk that walk again and I know exactly what I need to do.

Sugar. Sugar, sugar, sugar. You’re right at the top of my shit list and I’m afraid we need to break up again. It’s really and truly the only way forward for me. If we stay friends, even a little bit I’m likely to carry on going tits up every five minutes and my sanity is at stake here…I’m done.

I couldn’t have picked a worse week to kick the white stuff but I don’t care, it’s now or never. And never isn’t an option.

I’ve got two, in fact probably three days this week where I am working away, and lunch will be catered. I’m also going away on Saturday with my bestie for a long weekend…my timing sucks, but when I look in the rear-view mirror and see how firm and sure the ground beneath my feet was in the non-sugar months it’s a no-brainer.

I’ve emerged after a fairly quiet weekend under the poorly blanket and my nose has finally stopped streaming. Tomorrow I’ll be back in the pool and my knee is also recovered enough now to start doing something a bit more strenuous so I need to get my shit together and make a plan.

Next week when I hop aboard HMS Shitbird, the number will have gone down. I’ll be recording the number on Saturday instead of Sunday due to being away for the weekend so I’ve only got six days to show you what I’m made of. I need to make every day count.

By Thursday the worst of the sugar cravings will have subsided. It’s only ninety six hours. I can do that. I’ll be asleep for at least twenty four of those bad boys, so really it’s only seventy two hours. Seventy two hours fighting for control, not letting the Asshole voice in, and making the right choices.

I’ve got this.

Repeat after me…I’ve got this.

ps…apologies if you’re having trouble getting into the blog or sharing your thoughts. Bloody thing was playing up all day yesterday and now the favourites list has disappeared. The tekkies are hopefully going to help unpick what’s up!

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