Tag Archives: willpower

Don’t Forget The Sausages…

In the here & now, , , ,

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So I’d obviously given serious thought to the ways in which I could avoid getting sucked into the naughty corner at the spring fair that we’ve been to today. One strategy I flirted with was avoiding the food hall altogether but as I left home yesterday my boy’s parting words were mum don’t forget the sausages…kind of ruled out that option, right? One of the stalls which comes every year sells speciality sausages, and they are heaven on a plate. And trust me when I say my boy knows his way around a sausage…he’s never actually been to this event but he looks forward to it as much as I do and I guarantee he’ll have his nose in my bag of booty faster than a ferret up a trouser leg as soon as I get home on Sunday.

So, my number one strategy for a no samples consumed shopping experience was ruled out before I set a foot out of doors, although as I laid in bed last night and thought about it I decided that was actually a good thing, you know? I wanted to be able to look back and feel proud that I’d faced down the Asshole voice and resisted every single temptation, instead of wimping out altogether. Mind you, at the time I was basking in the afterglow of a big glass of red which always adds a touch of bravado to my thought process.

Let me try and set the scene…did you ever watch that episode of Friends, where Joey tried to make ends meet by taking a job in a big department store, and he was in competition with another bloke to see who could spray the most people with scent in the hope that they’d be the one to sell the most..? Right, well it’s exactly the same as that. Every three steps, someone materialises right in front of you with a bit of cheese on a stick, or a tray of bite-size brownies, and waves them under your nose in the hope that you’ll visit their counter and fill your boots with whatever they’re selling.

It’s what every fat girl imagines heaven would be like.  Times gone by I’m not gonna lie, we’ve probably done two or three circuits. Can you remember where that chilli-infused oil vendor was? No..? Neither can I, we’d best go around again. Oh, you’d like me to try that..? Certainly. They didn’t even make it a challenge, you know…no ‘one sample per customer’ rule in this food hall, we didn’t even have to try and look different second time around. Let’s swap scarves, and I’ll put your glasses on, I’m going in for more Camembert…

So if you’re dieting, it’s carnage. And, all joking aside, it’s hard. It’s hard not to feel resentful that you can’t just face plant into everything and do your best impression of a food hoover which is what you desperately want to do. Well, it’s what I desperately wanted to do.

I guess what helped me get to grips with the Asshole voice today was…well, there were a couple of things actually. Visualising my encounter with the bitch in the bathroom when I get home tomorrow was the first one. Tomorrow’s Sunday…weigh day. No getting away from that, right? No week stretching ahead of me where I can be extra good and unpick any collateral damage before I step on board…today was it, day seven of my dieting week. 

And also, my friend had checked ahead of time what I could eat, and had gone to a lot of trouble making sure she’d organised food to fit my diet…pushing two of everything into my face as we walked around the food hall would have totally disrespected her thoughtfulness, and I wouldn’t do that. So, Houston it turned out there was no problem here after all.

I had saved half my additional weekly smart points, so I had a bit of naughty in the bank. I know these vendors like the back of my hand, I mean come on, I’ve broken bread (or fudge or cake or cheese or sausages) with all of them over the seven or so years that my friend and I have been going. I was able to select my favourite thing ahead of time. There’s a bloke who makes brownies, and without question his white chocolate and raspberry brownies are the most amazing brownies in the world. They are the rock star of the brownie kingdom, and one of them is sitting on a plate in my friend’s kitchen right now with my name on.

No samples, but one treat, within budget and much anticipated all day…it’s going to taste even better than I remembered because it won’t hit a jaded palate. I haven’t assailed my senses throughout the day with all kinds of wonderful. I’ve sampled everything with my eyes, and nothing with my mouth…I’ve had a lovely day and yes of course I still wish I could have dived headlong into all of it. But I didn’t, and I’m feeling strong. Happy.

Most of all I cannot wait to wrap my chops around that brownie ?

 

 

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Pressing Pause

In the here & now, , , , ,

pause

On my commute into work this morning I was kind of half listening to something on the radio in between pondering my ‘to do’ list and trying to ignore the Asshole voice who was busy trying to persuade me that 7.15am would be a good time to eat my lunch, which was on the passenger seat behind me.

My ears were tuning in and out of the radio intermittently, and I caught the tail end of something which sounded interesting enough to prompt me to reach for the remote control so I could rewind it…duh, I immediately realised of course that the car radio doesn’t come with that option. How annoying. I could go on iPlayer at some point I suppose, but the moment has kind of passed and I can’t even remember now what it was I thought I’d heard.

I’m just so used to being able to pause the TV, or rewind and re-listen when my ears have been multi-tasking and I’ve lost the plotline, you know? I don’t know however we used to manage before that sort of technology existed… I love the way that everything can fit around me, rather than the other way around.

A good friend of mine takes that approach to her diet. She knows she needs to lose weight, and she really wants to, but her diet gets paused every time something more interesting comes along. She has the ability to just step in and out of it at will, and I’m beyond envious of her ability to do that. No way could I ever make that work for me, with my default all-or-nothing psyche.

I almost feel like I’ve paused everything else, to focus on this, you know? It just feels more important than anything else I could be doing right now. It’s my time.

My friend and I both have plans this weekend…she’s having a weekend away with a bunch of friends, and then immediately setting off on holiday for a week. Once I’ve finished writing this I’m heading up to spend the weekend with one of my besties. It’s the spring version of the craft and foodie fair that I’ve mentioned before, so I’m going to be bombarded with temptations at every turn.

I’m busy thinking about strategies to stay on the straight and narrow, where my friend can hardly wait to hit stop on her working week and throw caution to the wind so she can dive into the prosecco and hand the flight controls over to her Asshole voice…she knows he’ll probably crack on and do his worst, and she’s kind of okay with that. When she gets back from holiday, she’ll un-pause her food plan and get right back on track.

I wish I could press pause this weekend…I’d sell my granny to be able to sashay around the food hall accepting samples of whatever anyone wanted to give me like I have in the past. There will be cheeses and oils, and artisan breads begging to be dipped. Cupcakes and fudge and a hundred different flavours of cookie, and that’s before we’ve even gotten started with the cookery demonstrations. I’m going to be all kinds of torn.

The thing is, if I were to press pause, it’d be pretty much game over. Fact. Not a cat in hell’s chance of me waking up on Monday with the Asshole willing to relinquish control and move back to the jump seat…I know that. I’m just going to have to say no, and mean it. Not the kind of no which really means yes. The kind where the word no comes out of my mouth and passes a piece of fudge on its way in. Short of having my jaws wired together, willpower is my only option.

I’ve bought sugar-free chewing gum so I can fill my sinuses with peppermint to combat all the awesome smells. I’ve promised myself a really nice piece of jewellery in exchange for not allowing the Asshole to talk me into anything, and I know I’ll have to ‘fess up to you guys if the wheels come off.

I think I’ve got all bases covered, dammit 🙂

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Shooting For The Tens

In the here & now, ,

tens

So I got to thinking, as I woke up and carved out in my head what today was going to look like, what score I’d give the day if I looked back and tried to put a number on how much I’d enjoyed it. And I can see how that might seem like a bit of a weird concept at first, but a random comment I overheard yesterday planted a seed of an idea in my head, which overnight has done its usual thing of turning nothing into something and setting a train of thought into motion.

The comment was made in response to someone dropping their carefully chosen cupcake on the floor during our office bake sale yesterday, which typically landed buttercream-side-down. I mean, of course it did…don’t they always, right? I head someone laugh, and then say Oh no, what does your joy look like today!

My first thought was what an odd thing to say – it’s not an expression I’ve heard before. My head immediately started demanding to know how the joy in my day was shaping up, but I was up to my eyes in bagging up cake and collecting money so I sort of forgot about it. However, in the way my mind often does, it busied itself developing the theme whilst I slept, and started demanding answers this morning as soon as I woke up.

Imagine if we had to put a number to how much we enjoy the stuff we fill our days with. Say maybe on a scale of 1-10, with the bottom of the scale being hating every minute of it, and ten being just about delirious with enjoyment. That led to me thinking about all the things I probably needed to do today, and I realised the list was quite short.

Saturdays tend to be the only day that I can completely call my own, so in the context of my week, today is it in terms of the best possible opportunity for squeezing in a few tens. I got to thinking about how many tens I’d have on my scoreboard from the stuff I needed to do today, and I seemed to have quite a lot of fingers left over when I’d finished counting. Bugger…I didn’t see that coming. If I can’t pepper my best day with tens that’s saying something about me isn’t it?

So, I decided I was going to make today all about the tens. The suggestion that this is a deliberate ploy to avoid any chore-related low scores is just a wicked rumour, and to be fair there aren’t too many chores that need doing. Well, apart from the mountain of fat clothes which need putting on eBay, the same mountain that I managed to ignore again last weekend and which continue to piss me off every time I walk past them. But apart from that I’m good.

My first ten of the day was a dirty great bacon sandwich, which was epic. And let’s face it, you’d probably expect a fair number of food-related high scores, right? This is me we’re talking about. However, I’ve also decided that I’m going to score a mood-boosting ten for effort by staying within points today, and so despite it being a bit points-expensive it was totally counted and totally worth it.

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.

Oh, and me and my boy took a walk down to our local bookmaker last night for a quick flutter on the Grand National, so the biggest ten of the day might come later, if I win. I’m not holding my breath, over the years I’ve discovered that my system of picking winners according to what colour the jockey is wearing or the name of the horse is more than a little bit flawed and I’ve never won a bean. It does make for a more exciting 20 minutes though, watching the race when you’ve had a little flutter.

Whatever you’re up to today, make it count… get out and chase those tens, they are yours for the taking 🙂

 

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Using Life’s Imperfections Perfectly

In the here & now, , ,

can

How about this for a great quote…

Your ability to grow to your highest potential is directly related to your willingness to act in the face of imperfection. You will come to succeed not by finding a perfect moment, but by learning to see and use life’s imperfections perfectly.

Isn’t that awesome? I tripped over it on the way around my virtual stomping grounds a couple of days ago, and it struck me as useful, but I needed to play around with it a bit in my head before its meaning sort of morphed into something I can really relate to.

Shall I paraphrase in plain old Yorkshire speak? I’ve interpreted it to mean stop dicking around using the excuse of I can’t, because…instead, say I’m going to, even though [insert whichever bump in road here]. Adopt that approach and you’ve cracked it.

Today’s particular bump in the road was all tied into the fundraising efforts of me and my four colleagues who are trekking 90 miles across the Escambray mountain range in Cuba, to raise money for our chosen charities. We decided that we would run a bake sale in the office, and over the last week or so we’ve been busy recruiting bakers from around the various departments. Today was the day, and there was much anticipation.

In my car, on the way to work I was sat beside three airtight containers, one holding flapjack (my favourite), one holding chocolate brownies (my favourite) and the third one containing baked raisin and oatmeal cookies. My favourite. The Asshole voice was almost apoplexic. You can’t put those on the table and sell them if you haven’t tasted them, come on they might not be nice! What will people think! You at least have to try one of each. It’s a necessity, it certainly doesn’t mean you’ve cheated on your diet.

Remember, I have a near 50 mile commute…that’s a lot of time to spend trapped and alone in the car with the Asshole voice, where nobody would see if I caved in and plundered the boxes, right? I was so busy mentally calculating how many smart points might be in each, and getting stuck on the sums that by some miracle I made it safely into the car park without consuming so much as a crumb. I’m here to tell you it was a very close call.

The actual bake sale was easy…our bakers had done us proud, and there was an amazing spread. I’ve put it right out there that I’m losing weight to be able to do the trek, so surrounded by words of encouragement, and with the ching-ching of pennies hitting the bottom of the collecting tin as folk lined up to choose their cake, I could hardly be seen face-planting into any of the baking could I..? I might have licked my finger from time to time when I was helping to clear up afterwards but in the grand scheme of things I consider that a victory.

Trouble is, not all the cookies were sold, so they came home with me. My boy will vaporize them over the weekend and to be honest I’m over my wobble…in reality if I was going to have a treat, it wouldn’t be cookies. I actually cut myself a slice of carrot cake to bring home, and I’ve wildly over-estimated the smart points value, so I will have that after supper, and I will enjoy every single guilt free mouthful. It looks like heaven on a plate.

What’s more, I can look back and say I did, even though… 🙂

If you haven’t read about my trek to Cuba, and you’d like to understand more about why I’m passionate about getting fit enough to be able to honour my dad’s memory by raising as much money as possible for people affected by mental illness, you can see his story HERE – I’m grateful for any support you feel able to give, no matter how small 🙂

 

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Until Today

Biggest struggles, In the here & now, , , ,

temptedI’ve had a really good week this week – you know that way where you just know. I’m not scraping by on a wing and a prayer, in fact I’m very happy with how it’s all gone. I’d even go so far as to say the bitch in the bathroom was flirting with me this morning as I went about my daily routine…come on, come and step aboard a day early, your buns look skinny today…I didn’t, even though I was really tempted…I want to get a run at seven full days  so I get the full benefit tomorrow 🙂

Seriously, she’d better give me a good number…I’ve kept my eating clean, I’m well within smart points and I’ve even put my foot down and made this fat old body produce the occasional burst of speed. I’ve noticed that the Asshole voice has been conspicuous by his absence too…until today. Today he came back with a vengeance, and now he won’t leave me alone.

So, in the supermarket this morning I happened to linger by the bargain corner. Nothing wrong with that, you know how I love a bargain. Except there were two large packs of Tesco finest moussaka on the shelf, marked down in price to lower than the one-person meals. Now, I’ve got to be honest, they are my absolute favourite. They have always been one of my go-to foods, you know?

Many a food coma has been brought on by me sitting in my big leather recliner, enjoying a three course meal comprising two family bags of cheese balls as an appetiser, a large moussaka for the main event, and a litre drum of Haagen Dazs to finish with. About four and a half thousand calories, right there, in that one sitting. Crap, I mean when I look back, there’s no wonder my arse took on a life of its own. And that wasn’t an isolated incident, you know?

Anyway, it seemed like a good idea at the time to buy both the reduced packs. I still buy a single pack from time to time – it’s hardly worth bothering, I think the serves one guide notes refer to folk who have stomachs the size of walnuts, but if I eat it with a mountain of vegetables I at least feel like I’ve had a treat. And even the small pack is 21 smart points, out of a daily allowance of 38. The family packs, the ones which are sitting in the fridge behind me right now, are 42 points.

So obviously, the conversation I had with the Asshole voice at the intersection of aisles twelve and thirteen revolved around buying the reduced packs, getting them home and then splitting them in half before freezing them for future use. Because that’s what normal people would do, right?

From the minute I unpacked my shopping and for the rest of the afternoon, all I’ve heard is Why don’t you eat a whole one..? I mean I know they’re supposed to be for two people but we all know that they’e not, really, and you haven’t used any of your exercise points this week, so you could if you wanted to, without even breaking the rules…you deserve a treat, you’ve been so good this week…yadder yadder yadder…

As I was getting my nails done earlier, I was chatting with the girls in the salon about this and that, but I was thinking about moussaka. Walking Charlie dog this afternoon, with every step the Asshole reminded me that I was accruing fit points, and I could swap them for moussaka. As I’m typing this blog post, I’m thinking about fucking moussaka to the point where my mouth is actually watering.

It’s ridiculous that out of the blue, after a really solid week I get assaulted by thoughts of trigger food. Maybe because it’s one of the things which belonged in my old life with no limits, and now I can eat it but only if it’s propped up either side with terms and conditions.

I am going to eat moussaka for tea, but I’m eating half, and freezing half. Like normal people would. It would be so much easier to not have it at all, but I’ve clearly got some kind of masochistic vibe going on today.

But you know what, boil it down to brass tacks and there’s no real argument to be had. I’ve got an appointment in the morning with the bitch in the bathroom – no way am I tarnishing this outstanding week. Too much care went into it, and I don’t want to wake up tomorrow feeling afraid of the number. I’m accountable for the input, right? I refuse to hand the balance of power to something whose only job is to report the number.

It’d better be a chuffing impressive number, that’s all I can say 🙂

 

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