Tag Archives: sweet spot

I Couldn’t Outwalk My Fork

In the here & now, , ,

fork

I know you’re all expecting the next chapter of my trekking story today but I’ve got a major battle going on as I try and cling on to my place in the sweet spot so I’m afraid the contents of my head have jumped the queue…trekking day two and beyond is buffering as we speak but my woes are already lined up and ready to go. Sorry about that.

I’ve got to be honest, I’ve had better weeks. On a scale of one to ten, one being really shit and ten not being much better, the needle didn’t even get off the starting blocks. I’m in that place where I’d be grateful for a one. My boy’s been in hospital for emergency surgery so I’ve had a  couple of sleepless nights…it doesn’t matter how old they are, your babies are your babies, right?

In between all that, my website is still broken and the people who should be sorting it out are seemingly much better at apologising for the inconvenience of it all than they are at actually fixing the fucking issue. I’m seriously at the end of my rope. For all of you trying to join in with the chatter and leave a comment, I’m really sorry you’re being blocked as suspected bots. If it’s any consolation whichever gremlins have taken up residence are tarring me with the same brush and I’m also getting regularly booted out of my own website for being of suspected dodgy character.

So I’m tired and I’m frustrated, on top of suffering from the huge anti-climax of returning from the jungle with a lack of forthcoming adventures to keep driving me forward…it’s got D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R written all over it.

On Wednesday I stuck to my food plan. Yesterday I didn’t. Yesterday anything was fair game. It started well, with melon. Well, I say it started well but to be honest I’d taken melon to work to snack on throughout the morning, and I accidentally ate it all in the car before I even got there so if we’re splitting hairs it didn’t start that well. But still, the melon was the only healthy highlight in what turned out to be a dieting car crash. I ate sandwiches and chips, and cake and crisps and chocolate.

I can’t even blame it on the fact that I was stressed…on Wednesday, as my boy and I sat for fifteen hours in a waiting room at the hospital and waited for someone – anyone – to feel better and vacate their bed so he could get the surgery he needed, I was stressed to the moon and back. He was on nil-by-mouth so no naughties passed my lips at all in what I considered to be a noble and selfless show of solidarity, you know? Yesterday however, surgery safely over, son on the mend and stress levels on the downward march, my jaws barely stopped moving all day.

What’s that all about? That’s not part of the plan. Especially when you consider I had a come to Jesus moment with the God of Pain on Sunday when he clocked the fact that I’d put six pounds on since he weighed me just before I left for Cuba. I swore to him that I was back on track. Genuinely, what I ate in Cuba was heavily carb-laden and dextrose-rich and I’m cool with the effect that had – we all needed that fuel to get through the trek.

What I didn’t need was all the other stuff I ate, on those nights where we stayed in nice hotels…I dined on the excuse that I was going to burn it off but clearly I failed to out-walk my fork. I also didn’t need any of the crap I’ve eaten since we got back. So Sunday was my reboot, the day where I drew my line in the sand and picked up where I’d left off. Except the week hasn’t shaped up that way for all the reasons I’ve talked about…or, should that say all the excuses I’ve made.

There is no reason why I should’ve allowed the wheels to fall off my food plan, just a lot of excuses why I did. I’m disappointed that I disrespected all the effort I’ve put in to get to this point, but today’s a new day, right?

Today I’ll do better.

 

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Adjusting To My New Normal

In the here & now, , , , ,

adjustI didn’t really know what to expect this week as I shuffled into the bathroom for my weekly encounter with the bitch. The asshole voice was trying to engage me in conversation right off the bat, before I’d even got out of bed in fact, by pointing out that unless I’d dropped at least ten pounds this week I should resign from the fitness studio with immediate effect and admit that this body was not built for the kind of things I’ve been asking it to do.

I didn’t lose ten pounds, but I did lose two, and I’ll happily take that. I’ve only got five pounds to go until I hit the five stones mark and then in just one more stone’s time I’ll be able to say that I’m officially halfway to Skinny Town. I’m not going to lie, it’s been a long old slog to get this far but with your company and a few laughs along the way it’s not proving to be as bad as it otherwise might have been, you know?

Writing less often feels very strange. I’m not sure that I like it, but some of the pressure has definitely gone. You lot have been brilliant, in fact I’m blessed with an extraordinary amount of support and I think my fears about not blogging every day having an impact on the strength of the glue holding my feet in the sweet spot have proved to be unfounded. So far, at least.

I waved goodbye to a lot of my favourite fat-girl clothes last week too, after I sold them on eBay…man that felt good. As I handed them over at the Post Office parcel by parcel and waved them off to start a new life on someone else’s curves, I swear I felt lighter by the minute. The Asshole voice had an opinion, obviously. No no no nooooo…not the blue daisy top, that was your favourite!! What if you ever need it again, you’re bound to put the weight back on at some point and you’ll never find anything that you liked as much as that…

Maybe that’s true, you know? Not the re-gain, I mean I have no intention of going back there but maybe I wouldn’t ever find a fat-girl top that I liked as much as I liked that one. I felt nice in that top, I thought it hid a multitude of sins. Looking back on the photographs, it did not. What I actually looked like was a moose in a blue daisy top, so somewhere along the way, someone was getting fooled.

Anyway, as I slowly adjust to wearing clothes four sizes down from where I started, even my old favourites are no longer welcome. No emergency fatter-girl clothes needed in reserve because my new normal won’t be requiring a fallback position thank you very much.

I’m adjusting to a bunch of other stuff too…waking up and counting the number of body parts which provoke an ouch whenever I move them, then feeling happy because I remember why they’re aching…I’m working hard. Fitting at least one fitness session into my schedule every day. Saving stuff up in my head to chatter about with you guys instead of spending quite so much time at my keyboard…it all counts, and it’s all moving me to a better place, it just takes a bit of getting used to that’s all.

So, my thoughts have turned to my next goal – I’m only just nicely in a size 20, but I’m pitching to be in a comfortable size 18 by the time I go on holiday, in the middle of August. That’s do-able in 3 months, right? I might even get there more quickly, especially now I have the God of Pain on my side…by rights I should be a size 10 by next Sunday.

I did try cracking a joke in that general direction during my last session and he just nailed me with the stare, which on that occasion I interpreted to mean don’t be so fucking ridiculous. Fair enough 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

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!

 

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Happy Fat Girl

In the here & now, ,

image

It’s so lovely to get away from it all…the reality is we are only an hour away from home but the hotel has acres and acres of grounds and it’s a bit off the beaten track so now we’ve unpacked and had a couple of Pinot Grigios in the wood-panelled bar, home feels a million miles away.

This is a treat for our mums, both of whom are less independent than they used to be. As we speak, the wrinklies are having a little siesta and my friend has his nose in a book so I’m just going to grab ten minutes with you guys before going for a nice long walk around the grounds, then maybe a swim. Heaven.

We stopped and had lunch in a gorgeous little market town on the way here. The cafe was rustic and quite small, and as we walked in my heart sank when I realised the only free table was tucked right away in the far corner. As the skinny string bean in an apron grabbed the menus and indicated I should follow her as she glided in and out of the tables (which were packed in as tightly as sardines in a tin) I stood rooted to the spot, desperately trying to think of a reason why we couldn’t possibly eat there. No way was there room for me in that corner. I couldn’t even get to the table.

And yet, I did. And there was room for me. I didn’t knock anyone’s lunch off on the way either, and nobody had to move their chair so the fat girl could get through…who knew. And then, get this…as we had a post-lunch poke around the lovely little town, I saw the most gorgeous sweater in the window of a boutique.

Im not sure why I went in, I mean I’m used to my eyes not even bothering to linger on clothes in non fat-girl shops. Little independent boutiques, forget it, I mean seriously. They had a lot of layered look stuff which tends to be free size anyway, but there’s free size and free size you know? Not usually my size.

But today I was lucky, both the sweater and a pair of co-ordinating pants were up to the challenge! I think the lady in the shop was a bit taken aback when I hugged her, but I was just so bloody happy I couldn’t quite help it.

I’m reminded daily how awesome it feels to be plain fat, rather than the kind of fat that I was before. Everything I’ve done this perfect day wouldn’t have happened just a few months ago, and remembering little fist-bump moments like this on days where I’m struggling is what’s going to get me over the line, you know?

Right, I’m off for my walk…have a great weekend all ?

 

 

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Walking On Solid Ground

In the here & now, ,

walking

I made it! It’s Friday and I’m anticipating no challenges today. I say that because honestly, Monday to Thursday this week have felt like one long obstacle course and I’m grateful to have skidded sideways into Friday unscathed.

Well, I say unscathed…the cheese and pickle sandwich and fries that I ate at lunchtime yesterday did not support my cause in any way whatsoever but the lightning speed with which my hands reached out and flung them on my plate from the buffet lunch didn’t leave me much time to open the I’m not doing this dialogue with my asshole voice. Once my jaws are engaged in the business of chewing I tend to find that my argument loses a degree or two of momentum you know?

And I’d love to be able to tell you that once I got home last night, I wore a hair shirt for the rest of the day and didn’t compound my indiscretion with any further whoopsies, but that wouldn’t be strictly true either.

So my super-turbo-charged week has one or two dinks in it, including a deep dive into those weekly additional smart points that I wasn’t going to touch, but you know what, I’m still in the game…I have no plans whatsoever for the Bank Holiday weekend, so me and Charlie dog are going to get some lovely long walks in, I’ve got two full days of clean eating left before my Sunday sulk-off with the bitch in the bathroom and I’m gathering up what’s left of my dieting week and going for it, big time.

And if the cheese and pickle sandwich catches up with me I’ll take it on the chin and move my three pound challenge to next week instead.

Blimey…there’s a statement. Can you even imagine me saying that six months ago..? My position in the sweet spot felt incredibly fragile back then. I was terrified that something was going to come along and knock me sideways, back into a world where the short-term need to feed my face trumped any longer-term thinking, not to mention hopes and dreams. And don’t get me wrong, I’m a long way from complacent but honestly, seven months into the journey and I feel like the ground under my feet is a little more solid, you know?

So I stumbled a bit yesterday, and made a not-so-sensible choice. So what? I’m within points by the skin of my teeth but I’m not sitting here with my head in my hands mourning the end of another diet. It tasted awesome, but I’m not craving another one and it hasn’t changed anything. My resolve and determination is as sound as it was before the sharpness of that cheese sandwich exploded onto my tongue, and nothing is spoiled.

I can only think that all the work we’ve done together on unpicking the spaghetti inside my head has started to pay dividends, and I’m one step removed from the twisted way I used to think about food. You know what I’m talking about…I’ve been less than perfect therefore I’ve blown it, I might as well call it a day right now. Today, that thought hasn’t even entered my head.

I’m acutely aware that it used to and I kind of half-anticipated that it might, but as I opened my eyes this morning and mentally patted myself down, I was relieved to note that all my dieting ducks were in a row, and the asshole voice wasn’t even trying to overcomplicate the situation.

Doesn’t that make a refreshing change 🙂

 

Like it..? Tell your friends!