Tag Archives: willpower

The World Didn’t End At Foxy Lodge

In the here & now, ,

cabin

So I’m safely home after a weekend of utter awesomeness, in fact if I were forced to pick, I think I’d have to say this has been one of my very favourite girly weekends ever, and we’ve been doing this a long time so there are a lot to choose from. I’m not sure I could put my finger on exactly why, except maybe because I thought this one might be hard and it turned out not to be at all…I worried for nothing.

Wednesday night, when I slipped on that dieting banana skin, it knocked the wind out of my sails a bit. Maybe the Asshole voice thought I was getting a bit cocky, you know? Anyway, whatever, I greeted Thursday feeling thoroughly pissed off but resigned to the fact that I’d have to be far stricter with my food budget over the weekend than I’d been anticipating.

I knocked that one right out of the park, I mean I’ve had one or two tastes of naughty but it would barely even qualify as a dabble, and my best estimate is that I’ve stayed entirely within points.

And get this, every single one of my friends turned up for the weekend complete with exercise gear in a full show of solidarity, and we’ve made a respectable dink in the nature trails around the lodge. If I tell you that under normal circumstances we never make it further than the hot tub with just an occasional foray up to the reception area to try and get a phone signal, or *ahem* the recycling area with all our empties you’ll understand how much of a departure from the norm that really is.

I was totally surrounded by support, and it made getting back on solid footing over the weekend totally effortless. I’m so lucky 🙂

And you know what else I realised..? I didn’t post for two days, and the world didn’t end. I feel slightly ridiculous for panicking about it so much. When I arrived there on Thursday it took me about twenty laps of the car park, on foot and waving my iPad in the air before I got enough signal to post the one I’d already teed up. The cabins are buried in woodland and there was no chance of getting enough signal to write, so I gave myself up to a world without technology and you know what, it was fine.

I missed talking to you guys of course, but I actually realised that if for whatever reason I can’t manage to write a post every single day it’s not going to make the wheels come off my diet. Who knew! That in itself is a massive pressure lifted off my shoulders, and we’ve already established that pressure doesn’t do me any favours, right?

Anyway, the bitch in the bathroom greeted me like an old friend when I got home earlier, and then delivered the news with a flourish that I’d put on a pound. Shit. Still, my mid-week wobble says I deserve it, so I’ve taken it on both of my chins, and it’s all good. It’ll come off this week, no doubt in my mind at all.

It’s been lovely having a week off work, and both my weekends away…I’m rested and raring to go. I’m ready to embrace normal again, and crack on with the business in hand. This week is the week I get serious with this bloody fitness malarkey…watch this space 🙂

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Safely Delivered From Old Ladyville

In the here & now, , ,

old ladies

Well we’re home after a scorchio weekend…for fat flesh which hasn’t seen the sun for years it’s all been a bit traumatic. It’s a good job I went and bought a couple of pairs of lightweight pants before the weekend, I mean I’ve wilted in the heat even with my backside wrapped in linen so I don’t even want to think how bad it would have been swaddled head to toe in black.

We’ve had a great time, despite the whole weekend being geared towards entertaining a pair of octogenarians.  We went to the Beamish museum yesterday which is like the ultimate theme park for wrinklies. The whole place is set up like it’s one hundred years ago, and of course being in their eighties the pair of them spent the whole day reminiscing as we rode around on trams and poked about in  shops and houses and a school straight out of Georgian times.

I couldn’t help reflecting as we trundled around how being really fat is mostly a 21st century luxury. I mean I know I’ve dropped some weight and all, but crap, no way could I have coped with being even this size back then. As the golden girls were prompted at every turn to talk about how life was, back in the day, I looked at how physical the chores were, and how restrictive the clothing was – no elastane woven into fat-girl clothes back then – and thought how thoroughly bloody awful it must have been if you were carrying an extra arse in the early nineteen hundreds, especially on a hot day like yesterday.

There were quite a lot of pictures of ‘stout’ women dotted about the houses and they all looked as miserable as sin…I’m not surprised.

So the weekend passed with the integrity of my food budget 100% intact – don’t get me wrong I did have one or two naughties but I tracked every single one, and I earned them too which meant I enjoyed them even more. And today, which was the day I was most worried about, passed uneventfully due to a little bit of divine intervention. Well, you could call it that…that, or just plain old lady contrariness.

There are some world-famous tea rooms not too far from where we were staying, and we’d more or less decided to have a late lunch there before heading home. It’s mega expensive so it was going to be a real treat, kind of like the cherry on top of a perfect weekend.  I was a bit worried, I mean their cakes are the stuff of legend and I’d mentally worked my way through every one of the Asshole voice’s possible tactics to get me to fall over and face plant into a plate of fondant fancies.

We arrived in the town, which is gorgeous, with plenty of time to have a look around and work up an appetite for lunch, and all was going to plan until one of our gloriously bonkers wrinklies insisted on going in straight away to get a table before the lunchtime rush. I mean, the day was only just nudging its way out of mid morning. It seemed easier not to argue, but as we all sat and looked at each other over the menu, our breakfasts still weighing heavy on our collective stomachs,  it became apparent that nobody actually wanted to eat anything so we literally just had tea. No lunch, and no cakes.

On the face of it it’s a shame that we all missed out on what would have been a real treat, but the reality is it saved me a monumental battle with myself, so in the grand scheme of things, old-lady foibles saved the day. Mission accomplished, with points in the bank for next weekend.

Happy days 🙂

 

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According To Plan

In the here & now, ,

image

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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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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Here We Go…

In the here & now, , ,

dog

Well as my Grandma used to say, there’s no getting any sense out of  me now. It’s that time…me and my boy are almost ready. As we speak he’s pacing the floor and getting used to the feel of his tux – his first black tie event – whilst throwing furtive admiring glances at the mirror. I don’t blame him, he looks incredibly handsome (even though I’m not allowed to tell him that 🙂 )

I’m all ready underneath but still in pyjamas. It’s strange, my nerves have gone and I’m ready to throw myself headlong into the evening. I’ve been practising my losing face, you know so I can look as happy for the winners as those movie stars who don’t bag the Oscar. I’m in that place where one minute I think OMG IMAGINE if we WON!! and then next minute Assholio chips in with don’t be ridiculous there are people here who actually know what they’re doing, you’ve got no chance, you’re just not good enough…at least I won’t have a TV camera in my face to beam a thumbnail of my disappointment around the world if one of the proper bloggers knocks it out of the park.

You know what, it’s academic at this point, right? It’s the first time something good has come of me being fat, and whilst I won’t be content until I’m living in an average-sized body inside the Skinny Town county line, being fat and being on this journey is what’s presented me with this amazing opportunity, so in your face Asshole, I’m in a good place. Where this love of writing came from I have no idea, but when I needed it the most, there it was and I’m grateful. Who knew!

It’s funny, there have been a couple of moments in the last couple of days where I’ve bumped into the fact that I’m very much still work in progress. Driving home from the office on Wednesday evening and feeling very happy at the prospect of five days off work and all the exciting things to come, I was acutely aware of the Asshole voice encouraging me to unplug the diet for the next few days…you’re on holiday! Just take your foot off ’til after the weekend…that’s always what I did before, you know?

Same thing yesterday when James and I were talking about the train. We travelled in the posh bit since it’s a special weekend, and they give you free food, so he was thinking out loud about what might be on the menu. Let me tell you how much I would have exploited that in the past, I would have chewed all the way way to London. My boy did, in the way that you can when you stand six feet three inches in your socks and have hollow legs.

The Asshole was jumping up and down like Rumplestiltskin at the fact that I wasn’t over-indulging on free stuff. I wanted to of course and I felt the familiar blend of resentment that I couldn’t and satisfaction that I wasn’t. But I didn’t, and that tells me that whatever I’m doing is working…I’m slowly replacing those old habits.

So here we are then, it’s time…I must go get dressed. I promise pictures tomorrow but if you follow me on Twitter you may just get pictures and hot-off-the-press updates as we go…

Giddy!!!

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