Tag Archives: skinny Town

Who Saw THAT One Coming!

In the here & now, , ,

exercise

Well, I’ll be damned! Who’d have thought it..? They said it would happen…to be fair, you lot pointed out that it would happen, and I nodded along of course, because you’re a bunch of wise old beans who know stuff. But genuinely, on the inside, and with my hand on my heart I didn’t believe it, not even a little bit. And yet. Here I am.

Did you notice, yesterday? At the risk of repeating myself, I wrote this…

I’ve missed walking this week – my sore hamstring and pinched nerve have given me more than a couple of challenges, but I’m slowly feeling better and it’s a gorgeous day out there…as soon as I’ve put my last full stop on the page, me and the furry one are going to go out and have a bit of fresh air. It might be a bit slower than normal, and it might take a bit longer but I’ve had a touch of cabin fever over the last few days, so it’s time to motor. That’s going to be up there flirting with a ten.

It was only when I was reading the post back to myself last night and looking at your messages, including an ‘I told you so’ email from one of the posse that I realised. It might have snuck up on me by stealth, but there I am in black and white, referring to something which falls completely under the heading of exercise in a very positive manner, as in I’ve missed it and I’m anticipating that I shall enjoy it to the power of ten. Bugger me!

Those words weren’t planned, they just tumbled onto the page with the rest of what I was thinking about. I wrote them without really thinking about them, and even as we walked, I didn’t realise that the Asshole voice was conspicuous by his absence. There was no nagging to hang an early left in order to cut the distance down from the route I had in my head. All I thought about yesterday, even as I was  gently encouraging my still-a-bit-tender hamstring up the big hill at the start of our walk, was how good it felt to be out in the fresh air, and not hobbling around at home feeling guilty because I wasn’t moving much.

And actually, whilst we’re on the subject, that’s another revelation. I didn’t fist-bump at the opportunity to sit on my backside all week and rest. To be fair there wasn’t much sitting going on anyway, given the bruising 🙁 but I genuinely felt frustrated that something had come along to disrupt the momentum that I’ve been building up over the last few months. I was even careful with my food plan to compensate for my lack of activity.

Even as I write this I’m shaking my head in wonder…I could almost use a cold compress on my forehead to help me cope with this amount of sensible. I didn’t do any of that through gritted teeth, or resent the hell out of having to tighten up my eating. I did what felt right, under the circumstances, and without really thinking too much about it in order to adapt and find the balance in a tricky situation. Me! I did that!! In a perverse kind of way, I’m grateful for the injury because it helped me see.

Every now and then, it’s good when someone helps me lift the veil off, you know? It makes me realise that bit by bit I’m changing. Honestly, I’m far more excited by the changes I can feel happening on the inside than I am about the fact that I’m four dress sizes down…my body has changed shape countless times over the years, but my head never shifted in the way it looked at things. This time, that’s what’s going to keep me in Skinny Town, right?

Two more pounds off this week…I feel strong, steady and very sure-footed. Come on!

 

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Embracing The Stubborn Gene

Freeform thoughts, , , ,

mule

Ha! So one or two of my lovely friends and regular contributors to this melting pot of ideas have liberally sprinkled their comments of late with the word ‘stubborn’ and you know what…there’s something in it. Forgive me for being slow on the uptake, personally I blame all this chuffing exercise, I don’t know which way is up. I’m having a day of rest today much to the relief of my aching buns, so my brain has kicked into gear and cottoned on to what might just be a winning strategy.

Success is all about using the tools at hand, right? Well, I’m a Scorpio, and stubborn is in my DNA. I was born stubborn, if fact I’m easier to reason with now than I was at three years old…don’t get me wrong, I might have mellowed with age but I still know how to have a nick nack paddywhack and dig my heels right in when the occasion demands. So, since I’m so good at it, I’m clearly missing a trick if I don’t use it to my advantage.

Hang on a minute though, let’s think about what being stubborn really means. It goes a bit deeper than just saying no…it’s about a deep-down resistance to being forced to do something against your will. The more someone pushes, the more irritated you get and the more likely you are not to comply…why then, when the asshole voice in my head goes on and on about hob-nobs do I find it so difficult to slam the door in his face and dig my heels in with a resounding NO? 

If it was a double glazing salesman trying to sell me windows I didn’t want or need I’d have no hesitation in telling him to bugger off, so why not cut the Asshole dead? Perhaps because the reality is I’m arguing with myself. I’m so used to referring to those bad thoughts by the Asshole name, I sometimes forget that they’re my thoughts.

If you’re anything like me, fighting your way through an all-consuming craving for something you shouldn’t have leaves you exhausted as you come out of the other side, whether you’ve managed to hold the line or not. It’s not a pleasant experience. So despite the negative connotation often associated with someone being of stubborn disposition, there are occasions where it’s a bloody godsend.

If there’s a decision that’s yours to make, and you’re the one who has to live with the consequences, being stubborn is officially okay. And one sniff of someone trying to torpedo your resolve meets all the above criteria, right? Even if that someone is you.

Whether it’s your own asshole voice or someone else’s trying to talk you into scoffing something naughty, or doing a bit of sofa surfing instead of sticking to whatever activity you’d planned to oil the wheels to Skinny Town, it’s okay to holler NO at the top of your lungs…go for it, knock yourself out being stubborn if that’s what it takes.

And here’s the rub…I’m going to take the advice of those bright sparks in the posse who knew when to plant the seed and watch it grow…stubborn is definitely the way forward. No more days like yesterday when I wasted two hours of my life fannying around trying to talk myself into and out of going for a walk. That should have been a swift sod off, slam the door, move on.

It’s a shame the penny didn’t drop earlier in the day today for me…if I’d experienced this particular light bulb moment before the asshole talked me into eating two Jacob’s Mint Club biscuits with a cup of tea mid afternoon I might not have run out of points by 4.30pm. It’s been a long evening and right now I could eat my own arm. But what do we say..?

NO!

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Have You Changed Your Hair?

Diet update, ,

jar

Sunday again! I can’t believe another week has gone by so quickly, time feels like it’s whizzing past my ears ’till I’m dizzy. Maybe it’s because I hit my big birthday last month and it’s all downhill from here..? Having said that, you’ll often find me wishing time away…on Mondays especially I wish it were Friday, and I increasingly find myself thinking about this time next year – we’ll be in Skinny Town by then, right?

I get the fact that there’s a lot of todays to get through before then, and given that this week feels like the start of a new regime, I need to really make it count. I promise I’m going to stop banging on about this change of diet, I don’t want any of our posse to feel the need to peel off and take a left turn to Snoozeville. But given that this week has all been a bit dramatic, it’s probably a good time to take stock and reflect on exactly where I’m at.

I checked in with the bitch in the bathroom this morning, and it seems I’m on course…I mean don’t get me wrong I’d be much happier if the number was going down as quickly as time seems to be passing, but the important thing is that the number is going down. This month, by about 7lbs and I’ll happily take that, thank you 🙂 Lets wait and see how the new plan pans out in comparison.

I did have a FFS moment last night when I realised my favourite chocolate dipped freeze dried raspberries had doubled in points under the new rules but I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll just have to suck them for twice as long. I did hold the record in school for making a fruit pastille last the longest so I’m up for the challenge…I’ve got form.

There was a moment, mid week that I’ve looked back on a couple of times with quiet satisfaction, you know one of ‘those’ moments that makes all the willpower worthwhile? I’ve been dying to tell you because I know you’ll all get it you know? A colleague who I only see maybe once a month or so swung by the office and perched on the side of my desk to pick my brains about something, and he kind of studied me for a minute and then said are you wearing contact lenses..?

I replied that yes I was, but I always had so why did he ask, and he proceeded to run through a list…had I done something different with my hair? Changed my make-up? I looked different to him, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was, exactly. I felt this huge big bubble of happy well up inside me, because even though I didn’t enlighten him, I knew exactly what it was…my face is thinner.

I mean don’t get me wrong…the change is subtle, but it’s there. So I had a little inner high-five with myself and basked for a moment in just how great that made me feel. I’ve earned it! I’m going to make myself a little compliments jar, and every time someone notices a little change, or pays me a compliment, I’m going to write it down on a little square of paper and put it in my jar. And on days where the asshole in my mind is chewing at my ear about one thing or another, I can tip them all out and remind myself how awesome it feels to be on the front foot as we march our way to Skinny Town.

So, new week, new diet, new challenge…lets get at it. Have a great week everyone, and thanks for your amazing support as always 🙂

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The Power Of Will

Freeform thoughts, ,

willpower

So I got to thinking the other day about what a strange thing willpower is. It’s not logical you know? I find it bizarre that sometimes I have to dig really deep to say no, and other times I’m able to fire the word out faster than a bullet without giving it a second thought. Why do you think that happens..? To all intents and purposes, it’s the same head making the decisions…the asshole is in permanent residence so him trying to chuck a spanner in the works is par for the course. And yet, some days are still harder than others.

Did I ever tell you I used to be a smoker..?  It seems like a lifetime ago – in common with lots of reformed smokers I can’t bear to be anywhere near a lit cigarette now and it feels so alien to think I used to have a twenty a day habit. It was well ingrained too – I started having a sneaky ciggie or two in my early teens and by the time I reached adulthood it was a pretty deep seated habit. So it’s ten years since I quit, and do you want to know how much willpower that took..? None. None at all.

I know, it makes no sense to me either. I read Allan Carr’s Easy Way to Stop Smoking in one sitting, cover to cover in one day, smoked my last cigarette when the book told me to, and I’ve never smoked another. I never had a single craving, after more than twenty five years of smoking. Picture my face when I realised he’d written a book on losing weight, I was beyond excited…I pretty much broke the land speed record to get to the bookshop and hand over my cash. Read the whole book in one sitting and…nothing. Read it again, just to make sure…still nothing. Bloody thing had no impact on me whatsoever. I was gutted.

So it seems that there isn’t any kind of formula which cracks the willpower code every time. I mean I’m doing ok – better than ok, I’m doing great – now. But it’d be nice to be able to have some sort of guarantee, you know? Some certainty, that I’ll shimmy into Skinny town this time next year having had no curve balls come hurtling out of left field to knock me out of the sweet spot…no struggles to get back in. Some kind of formula to apply like a sunscreen to keep me protected from the asshole and other as yet unidentified foes would be amazing. But I get it – life doesn’t work like that, right?

And you know what else..? I’m kind of glad it doesn’t. I feel like I’m really having to work at this. I’m putting in the hard yards. Examining every thought, every feeling…picking at loose threads and sewing them down tight in the hope that if I touch wood and whistle they won’t unravel ever again. When I look back at the way I quit smoking, it feels too easy. I mean don’t get me wrong, I could never go back to the evil weed but equally I don’t feel any sense of pride or achievement for managing to quit. By some miracle, it happened but I don’t feel like I can take the credit.

This, on the other hand…when I get to Skinny town I want to wear every bruise that the asshole leaves behind like a badge of honour. I want to be able to run my fingers across every scar, from every hard-won battle. And that sense of achievement..? I want that too. I don’t think I can carry the scars or the bruises unless I’ve earned them.

That’s what’ll help me cash in my chips and stay there permanently. Let’s carry on doing the work 🙂

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The Bag Lady

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 bag-lady-home-box

So I realised quite a long time ago that I lean towards an obsessive personality. I don’t mean in a weirdo kind of way, I just recognise in myself the tendency to fall into the grip of something to the point where it stops being a hobby for example, and sort of takes over. I guess it’s another example of the struggle I’ve always had to take a balanced approach to stuff. Trouble is, it’s like anything else…recognising that you’ve crossed a line, and finding the desire or the ability to stop aren’t necessarily one and the same thing, right?

Over the years I’ve referred to myself as a ‘collector’ – isn’t that just the best catch-all name for someone who can’t quit buying stuff…it’s kind of a license to carry on, because it legitimises what you’re doing. Some years ago, I bought a necklace. It was nothing special, just a little piece of costume jewellery but I really liked it. It drew a few comments and I liked the way it looked, so I started paying more attention to jewellery in general. Bought a few more things…outgrew my jewellery box so moved a few things around and had a jewellery drawer instead.

And then another. Then I started displaying them on a wrought iron wall sculpture in my bedroom, and loved the way it looked so once that one was overloaded, I bought another and started filling that one up too. I spent hours scouring on-line outlets for statement jewellery, hunting down unusual and often outrageously priced hand-made one-off pieces. After all, I was a collector. Shops, markets, boutiques, craft fairs…it was all about the jewellery.

The thing is, I rarely wore any of it. I mean I did in the early days, but I was skinny back then. As my collection grew, so did my waistline and in the same way that clothes don’t look or feel right on this fat body, neither does jewellery. You can have a gorgeous statement necklace for example, hand tooled by a master craftsman in an exclusive little studio who’s more than likely relaxing on a beach somewhere with a large Pina Colada on the proceeds of what you paid for it, but when you put it on, if it’s sitting in the shadow of a stumpy double chin, framed by fat arms and with a spare tyre sitting right underneath it, I’m here to tell you it doesn’t look as nice as it did in the shop window. Sure, it might fasten, but it still doesn’t fit…or rather, you don’t fit it.

The jewellery obsession passed, although clearly I will be accessorised within an inch of my life when I get to skinny town. Next it was handbags. It still is handbags…now that’s a fat girl accessory I can get along with. No matter what shape or size I am, fabulous handbags are fabulous handbags, even on this chunky arm. But they’re an expensive hobby and have definitely contributed to my bank manager’s nervous twitch. He’s even keener for me to get to skinny town than I am, on the basis that I might step away from the handbag counter. Because again, somewhere along the way, I crossed the line from interested, to obsessive.

I dipped into the psychology of collecting once, more out of curiosity than anything else – I couldn’t believe the wealth of differing perspectives out there in terms of what inspires people to collect stuff. I suspected some ‘ologist’ somewhere would try and declare that it was my way of filling a void, and I could even get on board with that on some level. It seems that Freud went one step further and regarded it as stemming from unresolved toilet training conflict which seemed a bit extreme to me. I mean yes, fair enough, one or two of the credit card statements I’ve had following a fuck it moment in Selfridges have turned my bowels to liquid, but I always made it to the potty in time!

Whatever…I continue to be a magpie. With great accessories… 🙂

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