Tag Archives: weight watchers

Getting The Upper Hand

In the here & now, , , ,

battle of wills

I should tell you about what happened on Friday evening…there was a monumental battle of wills between me and the Asshole voice, who was demanding chicken chow mien and prawn toast from the Chinese takeaway.

It’d definitely been a game of two halves on Friday where my eating was concerned – someone brought donuts into the office, and I’m not just talking about regular donuts, I mean these were seriously impressive donuts. I’m not a massive donut fan under normal circumstances but one look in the box and I was a convert…my fat-girl food radar went off the scale. I’d been all over my food choices up to that point, eating fruit mid-morning followed by quite a light lunch, so by the mid-afternoon snack stop there was a fairly respectable amount of food budget left to go after.

However, much as I fancied one of those bad boys, I had no way of pointing them and I worried that my best guess might be way under…they were big and sticky and chocolatey, and the only safe way to indulge would’ve been to sacrifice the next three years’ worth of points, you know? I decided they just weren’t worth it.

So instead, I opened a packet of biscuits that someone from the trading team had brought into the office, because they were only six points each. I say only six points, that’s about one sixth of my daily food budget. It’s high, for a biscuit, but I rationalised it to myself in the same way I do when I spot a handbag I can’t afford in the sales, you know? But it’s only this much, really I’m saving on what it would’ve cost me at full price, look it’s a bargain…compared to the donuts, they were a bargain.

The thing is, once I’d got the taste for them I couldn’t leave the damned things alone. I ate four, one after the other in that way where even as I was eating one I was thinking about unwrapping the next. They got me. Which didn’t leave me with a whole lot of options come suppertime.

When I got in from work, I had a poke about in the fridge and decided that my best option for dinner would be a bunch of grapes…right then. Awesome. My own fault, but I’d kind of squared it away with myself, and I was resigned to having an early night to compensate for having too much day left at the end of my points.

I wish I could’ve captured the next couple of hours on a time-lapse video to show you…it sort of went something like this:

Me, around 8pm, peckish because of a mis-spent points day with nothing left in the coffers, and not feeling the grapes at all. Boy walks in with chips and Chinese curry sauce. Smell pervades house. Boy eats up, then goes out. Smell lingers. Forced out of chair by onset of starvation to check discarded wrappers for stray chips. Find none. Need chips. Sit back down in chair, mentally run through Chinese takeaway menu, and fantasise.

Decide on chicken chow mien and prawn toast. Get out of chair and put shoes on, to go order. Take shoes off again and sit back down. Watch TV but see nothing. Prawntoastprawntoastprawntoast. Get back up and walk three times round kitchen, whilst pondering how many times around it would take to earn enough points for chicken chow mien and prawn toast. Remember exercise points are now off limits. Sit back down and sulk for five minutes.

Go back through takeaway menu in my head to find low point alternative. Don’t find one. Chicken chow mien and prawn toast it is then. No, it isn’t. Yes it is… NO! IT’S NOT.

Go back into kitchen and systematically examine contents of every cupboard looking for filling tasty alternative, containing no points. Epic fail, no such thing exists. Bite the corner off a dry Ryvita. Spit it out again. Put shoes back on and grab purse. Dog gets excited and thinks we’re going out. Dog looks confused then pissed off as shoes come off again….rinse, and repeat. 

I went to bed in the end, at about half past nine, still chuntering to myself but without a morsel of chow mien or prawn toast having passing my lips. It was a close-run battle, but you know what…the craving eventually passed as they always do.

In the moment, it feels impossible, but cravings always pass, if I can just bite down and hold the line. I woke up the next day ready to grab my food plan by the balls, and I was in control all day without a peep out of the asshole voice…just goes to show, right?

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According To Plan

In the here & now, ,

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If you’re wondering what that glow is in the sky over North Yorkshire, I think it’s just the shine coming from my halo. Yesterday, I ate clean. Well, all except half a portion of sticky toffee pudding at dinner…nobody wanted to go halfsies so I had to order a whole one, which tested my willpower and then some, but you would’ve been proud…I left half on the plate.

And this morning I was in the hotel gym at 7am, I mean if that doesn’t warrant a Mexican wave from the posse I don’t know what would. It’s the first time I’ve seen the inside of a gym in years, and I enjoyed it every bit as much as I used to. As in, not at all. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon, but I was determined, you know?

I’d brought a pair of fat yoga pants with me and a t-shirt so as I strode purposefully across the hotel reception in my trainers I was feeling the part even if I wasn’t Lycra-clad and pert. Once I got in there though it all went a bit wrong, and it’s all because I wasn’t on my own.

Turns out that only the most hardcore gym bunnies turn out of their deluxe rooms as soon as the gym opens. There I was, part of the gang. I appreciate that I probably looked like I’d just taken a wrong turn and ended up there by accident but even so, I wasn’t going to lose face, right? They stretched, I stretched. They slung their towel and water bottle on their treadmill and I…well I just got on, it hadn’t occurred to me to take accessories.

They started running…yeh well that was never going to happen was it. I stopped copying them at that point, I mean I want to survive the weekend. But I did walk, quite fast. Then I had a go on an exercise bike, and I finished off with a swim. I broke a sweat.

I must admit, I felt rather smug as I ate a good breakfast, knowing that actually not only was it a bright shiny new Weight Watchers week, but I’d also put extra Smart Points in the bank before a single morsel had crossed my lips. This must be how skinny people feel, all the time…gotta admit I quite like it.

What I don’t like are these pissed off muscles…my chuffing arms are killing me, I’m assuming because of the swimming. It’s a long time since they’ve been asked to pull this fat old body through water, and I’m totally paying for it now. Still, we are back at the hotel after a lovely day out, and I’m now heading back to the spa for a hot tub by way of an apology to every sore muscle.

I’m doing it…I’m really here on a weekend away, playing by the rules and not being bothered at all by the Asshole voice. How the hell did that happen?

 

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All Toes Present And Correct

In the here & now, ,

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So, as we head north on the train home, I’m feeling a tiny bit flat that all the excitement is over you know? I’d only been blogging for about four months when entries were invited for these awards, so for roughly half my blogging life this has been running in the background.

I’m sorry I didn’t bring it home for you guys…I would have loved to of course, but the winners were so talented and they deserve every bit of the recognition they got last night. My friend asked me earlier if I was disappointed, and you know what, I found it really hard to answer. I am, but at the same time I’m really not.

Judging by some of the outraged emails I’ve had from you lot, I think you’re definitely more fed up than I am, in fact if the judges have any sense they’ll find a safe house and stay there for a bit!

Awards are lovely, and being a part of all this has been awesome but I’ve never lost sight of the fact that I started this for me. I started writing as a way to keep my hands busy and wrestle my head into the sweet spot so I could unzip this fat suit once and for all, and no matter how much I joke about stuff, I make sure that every post helps me to move my head on to a better place. Your lovely company, and your feedback and your chatter has become a priceless part of my journey. And it’s working, so please don’t be too down that I don’t have a trophy to polish…I have everything I need right here ?

It was a great evening, and in spite of my strappy not-built-for-fat-feet shoes I’m happy to report that all my toes are present and correct, if a little pissed off. Nothing that a couple of days in Uggs won’t sort out, right..?  And I must thank you all for your lovely compliments when I shared the pictures on Facebook…you made me feel like a million dollars, and my boy seems to have gained a new fan club too, much to his bemusement.

Between yesterday’s sightseeing and a bit of shopping we’ve walked for miles, as if last night’s shenanigans weren’t enough for these poor old feet. But I’ve kept a watching brief on my diet, and I’ve earned the little treats that might have accidentally found their way through my chops…it’s all about balance, right? Mind you, the cooked breakfast in the hotel this morning was served on a plate the size of a saucer, so the string bean Gods were clearly cheering me on from the sidelines.

Life returns to normal tomorrow…it’s a bright shiny new Weight Watchers week and I can’t wait to get at it. Thanks so much for your immense support over the last couple of weeks, and for getting giddy right alongside me. I got goosebumps last night when I saw our blog in the spotlight, and I’m just immensely proud of what we’ve built.

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Oh, and in case you’re wondering…yes the man on stilts was resting his nickie nackie nooos on my shoulder. If you look closely you’ll see a touch of hysteria behind my smile ?

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Radiating Sunshine

Diet update, In the here & now, , , ,

mad cow

So I woke up this morning ready to face the music – isn’t it funny how in the night things always look very bleak? I’ve never been one to worry about stuff, and sleepless nights are an unknown concept to me but I must ‘fess up and tell you that last night whilst I was watching TV, and starving after vaporising every single available smart point by mid afternoon, I made a coffee with all milk to try and fill a hole…it’s the first time ever I’ve gone over my weekly points. I know, right?

It was the lesser of two evils – there were several items of food that had collectively serenaded me from the fridge all night and I came within a cock hair of caving in…I didn’t, but I needed something. I could have had a large glass of water but quite frankly that was never going to cut it. But although I savoured every drop, the milky coffee weighed heavy on my mind, and from the point at which I woke up for a quick tinkle at normal work get-up time then tried to go back to sleep for my customary Sunday morning doze-fest I had the most bizarre dreams.

I have this mental picture of the Asshole sitting on his buffet in the corner of my mind, furiously loading movie reel after movie reel of things designed to convince me that I’d blown it. The words start of a slippery slope were playing on a loop in my head, accompanied by moving pictures of me whizzing down a giant slide, being chased by one of the Cravendale cows who wanted the milk back. In the next scene I was laid underneath the cow drinking from its udders whilst someone blew my arse up with a bicycle pump and in the last scene I was the cow…it all got very weird at that point.

I walked the green mile to the bitch in the bathroom with great trepidation when I finally shook off the weirdness. I’d managed to convince myself that the half pint of semi-skimmed milk that I’d had over and above my weekly allowance was going to mean a gain this week. I was suitably downcast and ready to take it on the chin, until she told me that I’d lost a pound.

What?? I did my usual double-check on several tiles to make sure she wasn’t taking the piss, but sure enough…another pound gone. And immediately, I started radiating sunshine. The day looked great. I’d dodged a bullet…okay I’m being overly dramatic, it was half a pint of semi-skimmed milk, not ten litres of Haagen Dazs and a ton of cheeseballs. But, for the first time in eight months and eight days I’d stepped over the boundary…thank god the bitch didn’t clock it.

So, it’s a brand new shiny Weight Watchers week and it’s an important one. It’s the UK Blog Awards on Friday in London…I’m too giddy for words. My boy got fitted for his Tux yesterday. I’ve bought new sparkly flat shoes and I’ve totally gotten over myself about the palazzo pants.  I’ve booked Thursday off work for a little turd-polishing, and on Friday we’re doing the whole first-class-train-swanky-hotel thing…it’s going to be an epic weekend.

The week’s got off to a cracking start…I did a long walk with the furry one this morning, and I’ve finally got around to sorting out that mountain of fat clothes. No messing, I’m going to make this week count. No wobbles allowed, right? Onwards! 🙂

 

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A Bag Of Contradictions

In the here & now, , ,

recipe

Over the years I’ve gotten to know myself quite well, you know? I mean all this wrestling my head into the skinny zone stuff is different and new, but I’m fairly au fait with the way my mind works in the other bits of my life. Non food-related situations if you like. Unsurprisingly, it’s far less troublesome when the Asshole voice doesn’t have a view.

Having said that, I do confuse myself if I stop and think too hard about it. For example I’m not good with change, which is ironic when you consider that much of my professional life is spent up to my eyeballs in managing change. On a personal level, I don’t like it at all. I know what I like, and I like what I know. And yet. I have the lowest boredom threshold ever. Routine is anathema to me, and when I’m bored I get destructive, which often doesn’t end well.

Seriously, the joke’s on me, right? Easily bored but doesn’t like change…wtf am I supposed to do with that? Good job I’ve got a sense of humour.

So anyway, I can feel myself starting to get a bit bored with my menu choices, so in order to head destructive off at the pass, I’ve just bought a new recipe book. I’ve decided that it’s time to get a bit more adventurous with the food I’m preparing, so I can stop feeling uninspired, which in turn means I’m less likely to get tempted to go play out on naughty street. That’s good planning, right?

If you’re anything like me, there comes a point after a while where no matter how much you love a wide variety of food, you keep returning to the same tried and tested handful of meals. There’s comfort in familiarity…you know the points value, it’s easy and you know it works, as in I ate this last week and I lost weight…but I recognize that I need to up my game in order to keep my head interested.

Why that involved buying a new recipe book, I have no idea. I must have a dozen recipe books. Low fat, low carb, low GI…Weight Watchers, Slimming World, Atkins…it’s like Barnes & Noble in one corner of my kitchen. And to be honest, beyond a quick flick through to admire the pictures when I first bought them, it would be fair to say they haven’t seen a great deal of action. Wait, that’s not strictly true, one time when my friend visited with her grandson and he couldn’t reach the table we sat him on half a dozen of the largest ones, but it’s fair to say not many of the pages are splashed with wayward ingredients.

So, that’s my latest challenge to myself. I have no delusions that I’m about to turn into some kind of domestic goddess, and I already struggle with a pitiful amount of spare time. But this whole journey has been about finding ways that I can do stuff, rather than making excuses as to why I can’t, right? Once every week, most likely at the weekend, I am going to pick out a recipe that’s interesting, nutritious and which isn’t going to bust my food budget, and I’m going to try it out.

My boy would tell you this has disaster written all over it but if it keeps me out of mischief I’m game… 🙂

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