Tag Archives: diet

Time To Make Lemonade!

Freeform thoughts, , , ,

HNY

Well, posse, who’d have thought it? I keep scratching my head and looking around for someone to explain to me how the hell we got to the end of the year already. I hate to say this with virtual champagne corks popping all around me, but for the longest time this has been my least favourite night in the calendar. I mean sure, back in the day when I could comfortably drink my own bodyweight in champagne and party ’till the cows came home I used to like it, but for at least the last twenty five years New Year’s Eve has been up there with colonic irrigation as one of those things I’d rather have no part of.

I’m planning to retire with a good book way before midnight and just let 2016 settle gently around me, although my four-legged bedfellow will have other ideas once the fireworks start going off at midnight. Considering he’s of working gun-dog descent, he has a real issue with bangs, and he’s usually as miserable as me on old year’s night.

The problem I have with it is twofold. Firstly it’s an opportunity to take stock of where you’re at in your life, what you’ve achieved this year and what your dreams are for the next. I don’t know about you, but during my annual stocktake I’ve never been able to place a tick in the box for being filthy rich, skinny and dating a bloke who’s who’s hung like a donkey. Life gave me lemons, right?

Secondly it’s a date that pretty much demands that you eat, drink and be merry. How arrogant. Let’s revisit yesterday’s post about being stubborn shall we..? I’ll enjoy it on my terms if you don’t mind. And in any event, forget the booze, I’ve been pre-occupied most years by how much I can eat before midnight because the New Year diet is looming.

But this year feels different. Different better. I’m not about to embark on a fresh cycle of failure marked by a succession of false starts because I’m already in the groove. I’m just about three dress sizes down, and this morning I fastened my watch on the next notch on the strap. Such a little thing but a moment, you know? Oh I know I’m still a heifer, and I will be for a good while yet, but before long I’ll be a foxy heifer with bone structure…awesome.

This year when I look back, I smile. I’ve eaten within a food plan for one hundred and thirty six days without stepping a toe out of line, and I feel strong, and sure-footed. I don’t always make the best choices, but I spend my budget, and that’s that. I discovered a love of writing and now I can’t imagine a day when we don’t chat. I’m fitter, and whilst I won’t be winning races anytime soon, I’m moving. And you guys…well, what can I say? One hundred and thirty six days ago I didn’t know you, and now we’re practically family.

2016 is the year when I’m going to get reacquainted with my collar bone. You’ll be able to tell where my shoulders finish and my head starts, imagine that. I’ll be able to get out of my armchair without having to rock myself up. And oh my god, the first time I can sit down and cross my legs…well I think I’ll burst with being giddy. It’s the little things that will mean the most you know? I mean I know I’ve got exciting stuff planned but it’s being able to do things that most folk take for granted which will give me the biggest thrill of all.

I’m excited about the future, and I hope you are too. I’m excited about trying that size 22 top on tomorrow that I’ve been visualising since Vegas. I suspect I might need to breathe in a bit to make it fasten (!) but really, who gives a crap…second skin or not, if the zip fastens it’s a goal, right?

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing on the eve of this clean, bright shiny new slate, I’d like to thank you from the deepest bit of my big fat heart for your company and your unwavering support over the last few months. I wish every single one of you a very healthy, happy and skinny New Year. I hope that we’ll continue this journey together…2016 is our year chaps.

We’ve got this 🙂

 

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Leftovers..? All Yours Sweetheart.

In the here & now, , , , ,

leftovers

Depending on what time I’ve hauled my sorry ass out of bed on Boxing Day in the past has largely dictated whether I’ve woken up thinking about leftovers, or smelling them. I think it’s fair to say that both my son and I are fully-paid-up card-carrying members of the leftover Christmas food fan club, in fact I might even go as far as to say that between us we’ve probably regarded it as the highlight of Boxing Day.

I can recall more occasions than I’m comfortable admitting to where we’ve pitted our wits against each other in the ‘who gets to the leftover pigs in blankets first’ race, and I’m here to tell you that the sound of the microwave being activated downstairs in the kitchen on Boxing Day morning has historically invoked the kind of reaction that alarm clock manufacturers the world over could only dream about. You see, whoever gets to the tupperware first is in charge of allocation…otherwise known as who gets what. And if that’s not you, damn straight you’d better get there and supervise, so you get your fair share.

So, when my son found out that he had to work on Boxing Day this year, as you might imagine, he was more than a little bit pissed off. To be fair, he wasn’t worried about working as such, I mean why would he…there’s no contractual obligation to work so it’s triple time thank you very much. But jockeying for space with the dollar signs in his eyes was the vision of coming home to pillaged tupperware containing a stringy bit of turkey and the odd unwanted sprout. He was worried that I’d eat Boxing Day whilst his back was turned.

As we were bidding our respective goodnights last night before heading for bed I casually threw it out there that I wasn’t eating any leftovers this year…his face was a picture. The sort of face, I imagine, that you might see on a lottery winner, as the implication of picking those numbers sinks in…well, something close anyway. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ll definitely join in with the turkey, that’s fine…but the crunchy butter-rich sage and onion stuffing balls, the leftover roasties and the crisped up pigs in blankets are all his this year. Although it near kills me to say it, they were yesterday’s treat.

You probably don’t need me to tell you that the asshole in my mind has almost combusted himself into an early grave by jumping up and down trying to change my mind. They’re behind me in the fridge as we speak, and they flirt with me every time I open the fridge door. On a scale of 1-10 I want them to the tune of at least 15, but I’m thinking instead about that size 22 top that I pledged my allegiance to when I got back from Vegas…I remain determined to fit into it on 1st January.

I can’t have both. And one is more important than the other…so I picked that one. And whilst the chatter from the tupperware tubs is driving me bat-shit crazy, I’m happy with my choice.

Today, Boxing Day or not, is the start of a new dieting week. I’m remembering how I worked out a plan to see me through our trip to Dublin, and Christmas, and I’m way beyond proud that I managed to stick to it…I’ve had to dig deep, but I’ve done it and trust me when I say if I could bottle this feeling and sell it, I could retire on the proceeds. And you know what else..? I’m 3lbs down since my last check-in with the bitch in the bathroom.

Epic 🙂

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My Big Fat Skinny Christmas

In the here & now, ,

santa

You know when my boy was little, like parents everywhere I used to get so giddy on Christmas Eve, and those few days over the Christmas period were precious. There’s nothing quite as magical as a little person who believes so completely in Santa Claus. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy Christmas now, of course I do but it’s different. Our family is small, just me and my son, and my mum…to be honest, apart from entertaining the Queen in our living room, Christmas day is just like a normal Sunday with a bit of tinsel thrown in for good measure.

I miss the build-up, you know? Writing letters to Santa, that really fizzy feeling on Christmas Eve…the little traditions we’d created as a family, like always saving sparklers from bonfire night so we could light up the sky to show Santa where we lived, and going to bed in new pyjamas on Christmas Eve. So many special memories. My all time favourite Christmas memory is from the year that my boy really got the Santa Claus thing for the first time, I think it was probably the Christmas before his third birthday and he was so excited.

Having bought and decorated the tree, I was doing that thing where you have a slight re-ordering of the baubles after the kids have gone to bed, since most of them were at three-year-old height and it was a bit sparse at the top. It seemed a bit wobbly, so I went out into the garden to find a really big rock to prop against the base, you know just to steady it a bit. It looked odd, so I wrapped it in Christmas paper…perfect. Except the next morning I found my boy, surrounded by torn bits of Christmas paper with big fat tears rolling down his cheeks, looking at the rock…but Mummy, I asked Santa for a train set…

So these days, it’s mainly about the Christmas dinner, and laughing a lot. My skinny strategy this time has been all about saving points so I could take my foot off a bit, just for today. I did a massive food shop yesterday even though I’m feeding just three of us but the one item conspicuous by it’s absence this year was the Christmas pudding…I didn’t buy one. And because I didn’t, there was no Baileys fresh cream or rum sauce either. I’m the only one who really likes it, and therefore the one who eats it…all of it. You don’t want any..? Oh ok, well it won’t go to waste…and it never did. It went to waist instead…mine!

Chocolates…again, I didn’t buy any of the ones that I usually stuff my face with, like after eight mints, matchmakers, black magic…there are chocolates but nothing that I would cross the road for you know?

I’d like to say that I exercised same restraint with the rest of Christmas lunch…hell no did I chuff! Give me a break, I’m not made of wood…those points I’ve saved up were royally spent on goose-fat laden roasties, pigs in blankets, bread sauce and stuffing. Hallelujah it was glorious. I shall be in a food coma until the middle of next week.

And I survived! I made it work for me, and I don’t feel like I missed out 🙂

I hope wherever you are and whatever Christmas has brought for you, that you’ve made some awesome memories with your special people. Both of mine are snoozing on the sofa right now and I’m just about to go walk off some of those pigs in blankets with the enthusiastic assistance of my furry friend here…lots of love to all of you, and I’ll see you on the other side 🙂

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Holding The Line

Freeform thoughts, ,

no to food

So there’s only a couple of days left before our little mini break and I can’t wait to soak up the atmosphere of the Christmas markets in Dublin this weekend with a bunch of friends. I’ve been irritatingly angelic on my diet this week, I’ve not used any of my weekly points and I’ve resisted temptation despite being bombarded from all quarters.

My boss’s husband baked the most enormous victoria sandwich cake the other day which he brought into work for the team and OMG it looked absolutely lush, I was practically drooling…but I didn’t go near it 🙂

I’m slowly getting my head around the new Weight Watchers points system, it’s much easier to understand now they’ve got rid of the gremlins from their website…I think it’s going to be quite effective for no other reason than most of the things I like to eat as treats seem to have doubled in points so it’s put me off eating them. I’m not sure that’s sustainable, but for this week at least it’s not a bad thing. Plus I grumbled at them a bit and they gave me two weeks for free so all is forgiven, providing the diet works of course.

So as you know I’ve carved out a bit of slack for myself ahead of this weekend, but I’m not planning on going mad – I daren’t, in case my place in the sweet spot disappears in a puff of smoke. I’ll probably hold the line, stick to skinny food choices as much as I can and spend my extra points on fizz…that sounds like a good plan, right?

My friend doesn’t think so apparently. Her actual words when I outlined my plan were for God’s sake woman live a little! Delivered with tone of voice straight our of Snarkyville. It seems that in her humble opinion, the friends I’m travelling with will think I’m a proper diet bore if I don’t continually stuff my face with naughty things whilst I’m away. I don’t agree, and I might have mentioned that, just before I thanked her for her support. With a tone of voice straight out of Siberia. Yes, I see yours and raise you!

You want to know what proper support looks like to me? Eight years ago when I was doing the liquid diet, I spent 7 months drinking soups and shakes. In the middle of that time, my best friend and I went on holiday to a fabulous hotel in Turkey which was full board with the most amazing food…I never ate a morsel all week. We went down to dinner together every night, to our usual table right by the sea, and she ate her dinner whilst we chatted and admired the view.

I drank water and was perfectly happy, and she ate like a normal person and was equally happy. She knew it was important to me and she never batted an eyelid. That’s support right there. I lost five and a half pounds that week on top of having an amazing holiday. So forgive me for not believing that the friends I’m away with this weekend will be affronted by me declining pudding in favour of coffee, I mean why the chuff would they even be bothered?

They know I’m dieting, and it’s no big deal. You can bet your bottom dollar if there was a skinny string bean friend amongst us who curled her petite little nose up at anything with an actual calorie in it, nobody would give it a second thought. If the fat girl makes skinny choices, why should it be different? In any event, knowing my friends as I do, by the time dessert arrives they’ll be too pissed to notice anyway 🙂

 

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Curve Ball Alert

Biggest struggles, ,

resisting-change

So. Today was going well…I’ve been uber busy at work, Christmas chocolates flying around all over the place and a massive Christmas cake sent down to our office courtesy of our colleagues in the trading team, but I’m happy to report I resisted them all. Still firmly in the sweet spot, and in control. Arrived home with plenty of points in the bank, and my boy had popped a chicken kiev in the oven for me so I did what I often do and opened up the Weight Watchers’ website to check out the points value….ah. Houston, we have a problem.

It seems that Weight Watchers have decided to swap pro points for something called smart points. WTF? I mean I knew they’d been messing around with their website because for the last two weeks it’s taken me five times as long to find anything. I kept seeing a message saying you are seeing the new format, click here to return to the original, so I kept clicking. And shouting at the screen, like that was going to help. Then they stopped offering me the option to navigate familiar pages so it seemed I was stuck with the new format. Right then.

What I didn’t see, anywhere, was any mention that they were changing the actual diet. I mean just a small detail that, you know, I might have been interested in. Way to go Weight Watchers. I pay my subs every month for the on-line service, and you can’t even bother to drop me an email to let me know that you’re pulling the rug from under my feet, two weeks before Christmas, by changing the diet. I noticed by accident when I read smart points and thought what the hell are they..?

Not only that, but the website doesn’t appear to be working properly. Lovely! I don’t have any info at all about the new diet. I’ve figured out that a lot of the points values have changed, so since the change I didn’t know about, I’ve been tracking my food choices using my points calculator (pro points) at the same time as using the on line listings (smart points) so who knows how many points I’ve actually had over the last couple of weeks. Or indeed how many I should be having since all the values have changed.

If I wasn’t so deeply dug in to the sweet spot, that could have spelled disaster. It would have done in times gone by – I’d have been into the hob-nobs faster than the speed of sound thinking well that’s it, diet blown…might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb right?

Change makes me twitchy at the best of times…I mean, I always come around in the end but I’ll freely admit I’m a stubborn old mule who will resist for as long as possible. I’m sure the intent behind changing the diet is sound, and I’m sure the diet will continue to work well, once I know what I’m doing. But I’ve got to say, their execution of change has been utterly crap and they have let me down badly. I’m frustrated and beyond mad.

So. My only option is to pay them more money to get a new set of books and a new points calculator. What’s that you say..? They’ve sold out of points calculators..? Awesome.

You couldn’t bloody write it could you 🙁

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