Tag Archives: food budget

Eating My Efforts

In the here & now, , ,

veggies

So I’ve got about a week and a half of exercise classes under my belt, and despite continuing to fantasise about my old life in the armchair, the asshole voice in my head hasn’t really made any significant dink in my determination to drag this fat old body to a better place. Between you and me, I reckon we’re both a bit scared of pissing off the God of Pain. Who, by the way critiqued my food diary before the weekend and made it clear I had to do better…it didn’t pass muster.

Which made me think. I’d stayed within points. Sort of. Well I had, it’s just that I’d used up all my exercise points too, of which I’d earned loads because I did loads. So I ate loads. God forbid that all that effort should go unrewarded, right? God forbid that so much as one point to which I’m entitled might sneak by uneaten…not on my watch.

And, dammit, I realised that the asshole voice had sneaked in through the back door and presented a very compelling argument that since I was working so hard, all those extra points I’d earned could be spent on whatever I liked.

Which is how come my food diary was peppered with two sticks of chocolate here, and a handful of Pringles there…looking from the outside in, I can see why I deserved harsh words. It probably didn’t read like the food diary of someone who was determined to lose weight, you know? Viewed from an athlete’s perspective, my fat-girl thinking stuck out like a sore thumb.

And hands up, it’s a fair cop – the needle didn’t move on the scale this week. I ate within points starts to sound a bit hollow when I’m faced with the reality that I’m in exactly the same place that I was in last week – all that effort, and all those sore muscles just to stand still.

Even as I’m writing this, the asshole voice is busy being all outraged and trying to convince me that muscle weighs heavier than fat, and that I’ve actually lost weight and gained muscle…yeah, nice try dickhead, technically that may be the case but after one week and change I’m not buying it. I just ate my efforts, is the long and short of it.

The additional points that all my hard work brought home should’ve been points in the bank, but in exactly the same way that I’m hopeless at saving money, there were available food funds which burned a hole right through my pocket and I pretty much ate them as soon as I’d earned them, on the basis that I was allowed. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. Hmm…innocent face my arse, I wasn’t doing it right either.

So, lesson learned… time to regroup. God of Pain gave me a suggested diet plan which is all around clean eating and to be fair, it’s not a million miles away from what I’ve been eating, just without the crap that wormed its way in through the back door. I’m not going to stop counting Weight Watchers Smart Points, even though he doesn’t approve of diets…but, I take his point about when I’m eating and more importantly when I’m not eating. I can do better.

I’m going to go for a turbo-charged week. I’m going to eat well, space it out properly, carbs before a workout, protein after, and no crap…I refuse to tread water for another week because of what I’m putting in my mouth when I’m sweating my cahoonies off on a daily basis to support my journey. This week, I’m going to make every bead of sweat count 🙂

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Autopsy Of A Binge

In the here & now, , , , ,

spring cleaning

When I’m not in the grip of a binge, I find it really hard to get my head around the concept that an Asshole voice inside my head has the ability to take over every thought, and for that brief moment in time completely rule the roost. I mean, I can talk about it, and even report it as fact but the truth is I’m detached when it’s not happening right now. Being in a position where I’m not the one calling the shots seems unlikely, from my current vantage point of control.

On an intellectual level I get it of course – in the same way that I understand that some people feel the need to drink their way into oblivion, and other people are driven to get high…what I can’t do, outside the moment is to call up how it feels as I lose my grip and tumble head first into a binge. I can only feel that in the moment, and I can’t comprehend it when I’m not feeling it.

Last night, it got me. Head on. I’ll tell you about it in a minute but before I do, I want to try and unpick why. I’d had a great sorting out kind of day. In some respects. What I didn’t do, was the walking I’d intended to do, nor did I make the call about joining a gym…I was too busy. I did have a chat with my boy last night as he was cooking dinner, about how I was thinking about not front-loading my blog posts for this weekend and having a couple of days off instead as I kicked back with my girls…he was horrified.

He knows how much this means to me in terms of accountability and support. He also understands that the creative outlet of writing is the anchor which has kept me in the sweet spot over the last nine months, you know? That, and the love that I get from you lot. He was worried that if I didn’t post, I’d go completely off the rails…he’s seen it, and lived through it too many times over the years. Not blogging, obviously, I’ve never done this before but if I’ve ever stepped away just for a second from whatever thing was working for me at the time, I’ve gone under the wheels and it’s pretty much been game over.

To be fair, I worry about that too…when I started this journey I said I would post every single day, and I have. One hundred and eighty thousand words so far, that’s like two whole books’ worth of words in a little less than nine months. I spend at least a couple of hours writing every day, and when I’m time poor that’s a big commitment. If I join a gym and have to find time to fit that in too, something’s going to have to give.

So that scares me anyway and his reaction reinforced my own worries you know? My boy is right…I need this outlet. I also need to join a gym and build up my stamina to honour the commitment I’ve made to do this trek because I’m not getting enough traction on my own. I have to do stuff with my mum, and I have to work a full time job and run a house…I’m a bit freaked out that I’m not going to be able to fit it all in. And after our conversation brought it all to the surface last night I watched the TV and chewed it all over in my mind.

Then I chewed a bunch of other stuff. For fuck’s sake. The extra weekly points that I’d so carefully saved for this coming weekend away…gone. The additional exercise points that I’d built up, also gone. Twenty points that I haven’t even earned yet have gone before they’ve even fucking arrived.

And in that food fug last night, which by the way was entirely sugar-related, the Asshole voice talked me into believing that I couldn’t over-flex my food budget at the weekend anyway since five of my closest friends were going to act like the chuffing diet police so I may as well get all my chocolate in whilst I had the chance, and live on dust until Sunday.

It seemed like a very plausible argument, right up until it didn’t. Then I cried, and washed the kitchen floor. I have no idea why, it wasn’t dirty and in any event my cleaning lady was coming today, but I think I just needed to scrub something, because I felt dirty.

On the up-side, talking about it has at least opened the window on why it happened. I’m not reacting well to the pressure I’m putting on myself to do it all. And I still don’t know how I’m going to pull it off if I’m honest, but in the cold light of day as I sit and survey the damage I’m fed up, but a lot less freaked out. I’m back in control. I’m okay. I’ve still got this.

So, I need to be more careful this weekend than I thought, right? We’re planning healthy food anyway, and I’ll have some fizz, but none of the edible goodies I was saving up for can feature in my weekend. And you know what, I’m okay with that…it is what it is. I’m just happy I’ve made it out of the other side and I still have my eye on the prize.

It’s all good, if a little too close for comfort 🙂

By the way, if the posts are a little sporadic over the next couple of days, bear with me…we are staying in a forest and based on past experience there’s next to no phone signal and no wi-fi!

 

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Resisting Assholio’s Agenda

In the here & now, , ,

no to cake

So after a very busy four day working week I’m like a dog with nine tails at the prospect of logging off from work-related matters for a whole week. My downtime is rolled out in front of me and some of it’s already filled with awesomeness, although I’ve got to be honest there are more than a few challenges too. I’m going to need to be really really wary of the Asshole voice, whose agenda will undoubtedly be a bit different to mine.

I’m setting off in the morning for a lovely two night break in a swanky hotel with one of my best friends, and our mums.

My agenda; relax and laugh a lot. Make full use of the hotel gym and spa, get a little bit of walking in and a mooch around the local towns, and have some really nice meals within my food budget.

The Asshole’s agenda; relax and forget the diet. Ignore the gym, enter the spa only if you don’t have to lift a finger and someone is going to deliver you to the edge of heaven. Eat a full breakfast every day followed by lunch, afternoon tea and a nine course meal washed down by several bottles of decent plonk. Get hammered with your friend both nights because you’re on holiday.

We get home on Monday afternoon and I’m just kicking back at home until Thursday, when I’m due to drive down to meet my favourite bunch of girlies for our bi-annual get-together…I haven’t seen them since Vegas in October, and I’m too giddy for words. We’re staying at our favourite log cabin complete with hot tub in the middle of nowhere, for three nights.

My agenda; relax and laugh a lot. Have a nice long walk in the surrounding countryside every day, pace myself with the Prosecco and ignore most of the chocolate and other Scooby snacks. The weekend is about the company, not the food. Gossip, watch movies and share my deepest darkest secrets but never take my eye off my food budget. Remember I have an appointment with the bitch in the bathroom when I get home on Sunday.

The Asshole’s agenda; screw that, of course it’s about the food, don’t be ridiculous. It’s a fine tradition carved out over the last ten years that you get there, get hammered, peak by 8pm on the first night and apart from hot tub time never make it out of pyjamas all weekend. Eat maltesers, onion rings and cheese balls till your eyes pop out and hang your head in shame if one drop of Prosecco remains undrunk. Forget about the bitch and let her do her worst…you can start again Monday.

See what I’m up against..?

I’m not as worried about this weekend, I’m fairly confident that I can make good choices and have a great time. I’ll definitely use the gym to counteract some of the things which might tempt me and I’m looking forward to that as a bit of a change. I’m planning to over-walk on Tuesday Wednesday and Thursday to build up a little buffer for my Smart Points because next weekend is going to be the killer, you know?  It’s the first time since I started the diet that we’ve had one of our girly weekends, and seriously, we usually eat our own bodyweight in crap.

Focus, Focus, Focus. I can do this…

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A Helping Hand From The Gods Of Skinny

In the here & now, ,


chef with mustache showing off menu clipartSo I’d be the first one to admit that I’m not always the best at planning. I think it’s something to do with the fact that in my working life I have to be super organised and that goes against my nature, so outside work with nobody to bollock me if I’m not on top of everything it quite often goes to pot. And broadly speaking I’m okay with that, I mean occasionally I make life a bit more difficult for myself than it needs to be but things have a habit of working out in the end. I think you might call that blind faith.

Yesterday was one of those days where in respect of my food plan it didn’t work out that well, in fact it went completely tits up. You might call that the exception which proves the rule. I had an afternoon meeting a couple of hours away from home which started at lunchtime, and it wasn’t catered in the way it usually would have been. I didn’t realise this, so my plans to skip breakfast and preserve a few extra points to spend on the lunchtime buffet backfired.

By the time the meeting started I could have happily eaten my own arm. No breakfast, a long drive and no lunch either…it’s fair to say the day wasn’t going well. There was a large glass jar of Fox’s Glacier Mints on the table, and having flirted with them from a distance for an hour or so I caved and ate one, followed in quick succession by two more.

It was only the thought of everyone noticing my fat arm snaking across the table again as I went in for number four which prevented me hoovering up the lot. I wouldn’t care, I don’t even like Fox’s Glacier Mints…my Grandad always had them and I swear they wouldn’t have been his sweetie of choice, except they were the only ones which allowed him half a hope of having some left after I’d been for a visit. Normal Grandads have Werthers Original, I mean come on, everybody knows that, right?

Anyway…I’d arranged to meet a friend for dinner last night but the traffic was shocking on the way back and it took me almost three hours to drive home. Bear in mind I’m still running this body on three mints and a gallon of coffee, so it’s fair to say by the time we hit the restaurant I was really knackered, and I felt like I hadn’t eaten for a month.

You can see where this is going, right? Not the best mind-set in which to make food decisions…the Asshole voice was seething with indignation that I’d experienced an actual hunger pang or two and pulled out the stops to try and make me order the biggest fattest dinner available. He was so pushing on an open door. You’ve barely eaten all day so why don’t you have a big fat juicy steak with all the trimmings and a side order of that, that and THAT…yeah, go on then, don’t mind if I do.

Thankfully, the Gods of Skinny were on my side. It came, and it wasn’t good. Whichever muppet was in charge of the grill had ruined a perfectly good steak by overcooking it until it resembled shoe leather, I mean if that was medium rare I swear I’ll bare my arse to the world. There was nothing green on the plate at all, not even a salad garnish, and the chips and onion rings just tasted of cooking oil. Even the mushrooms came wrapped in breadcrumbs. Brown, surrounded by three sides of beige…mmmmm, lovely.

I sat there and thought you know what, it serves me right…I should have gone for a healthier choice. Just because I had a huge chunk of food budget to spend didn’t mean I had to go for the most points-laden option on the menu, you know? That’s fat-girl thinking. It was only the fact that it was truly minging which saved me from myself. I sort of picked at it and ate the mushrooms but most of it went back untouched. And despite being sorely tempted, I didn’t order the sticky toffee pudding although I have to ‘fess up to a bit of spare spoon activity with my friend’s portion.

So yesterday, the Gods of Skinny were in my corner. Today, they’re taking the piss. I collected a mystery parcel with my name on from the post office this morning after the postman left a card yesterday and it seems my utility company decided to send me a box of chocolates to say thanks for my custom. Hotel Chocolat chocolates…if only they knew.

One foot in front of the other and repeat, right?

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Consistent Inconsistency

In the here & now, , ,

consistent

When I was little, my mum used to call me Contrary Mary. She always said it in a jokey way of course but she wasn’t fooling me, there was definitely an occasional undertone of you’re now getting on my last good nerve… I think what frustrated her was how the child who was placid and easy-going one day could do a good impression of the devil child the next. I’m not moody, in fact I don’t have a moody bone in my body. That’s never been the issue…I’m just inconsistent, and my normal can differ from day to day.

I can see how annoying that would be to someone who’s not me…to be fair I’ve driven myself nuts over the last few months especially with the way I’m never quite sure what frame of mind I’m going to wake up in from one day to the next. I’ve noticed it far more since I’ve been dieting, but that’s probably because I’m more tuned in to what’s going on in my head. I’m getting fairly adept at separating my own thoughts from my asshole voice, although knowledge isn’t always power, right?

As soon as I open my eyes in the morning I can generally suss out whether I’m going to sail through the day, or whether I’m going to have to navigate a pathway through the thorns. It’s been a bit of a mixed bag this weekend just gone, in fact Saturday and Sunday were like night and day – Saturday I struggled. God, how I struggled. It seemed like I was locked horns with the asshole pretty much all day, due to fatpantsgate.

Yesterday was completely different, I mean it was effortless. I ended up going to bed last night with one smart point left unspent. Shall I say that again, in case you missed it the first time..? I had leftover food budget that I chose not to spend. I mean what’s that all about? That never happens. I always wring every last drop out my food budget to ensure I get maximum possible chewage, and yet yesterday I left a point on the table. Maybe I’m coming down with something.

So that’s the frustrating thing, right? Why can’t every day be like yesterday? I mean I’d have this cracked in a heartbeat if I didn’t have to waste time arguing with myself. The inconsistency definitely makes it harder to deal with, because after a couple of really good days the asshole voice can take me unawares. If he’s chewing my ear constantly it’s easier to tune him out.

Oh my…I think I might have just put two and two together in my head as I was writing this. Saturday was the last day in my dieting week…there were scant points available as a fallback position when the asshole voice gained a bit of ground. The pressure was on, and I freaked out. Sunday was different…the start of a new week, a whole week’s worth of new points to go at if I so pleased, therefore no pressure and no problem. Give it your best shot Asshole, come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough…

Interesting. In order not to face the kind of pressure that freaks me out I need to have points in the bank right up to the very last minute of my dieting week. You know, make sure I have enough for an emergency hobnob at all times.

Noted 🙂

 

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