All posts by Dee

Almost But Not Quite Human

In the here & now, ,

Well, I’m feeling more human than I was this time last week…that ear infection was nasty. I managed to make it to my friend’s house this last weekend, a couple of hours north of here. It was our bi-annual pilgrimage to the craft and food fair that we love so much and I was reluctant to miss it, but we had to adapt our usual drill to reflect the fact that I was feeling a bit feeble. I haven’t seen my friend since we got back from holiday in February, but rather than sitting up chatting into the wee small hours which is customary on the first night, I was asleep in bed just after nine.

I was wiped. And I still had ear ache. I still have, actually, although it’s not anywhere near as bad as it was. I’m going to go stage a sit-in at my Doctor’s surgery today until they either give me something to sort it out once and for all, or chop the damn thing off.

The Asshole voice has been both enthusiastic and persistent this weekend. There was a steady stream of helpful suggestions emanating from the corner of my head where he lives, including his permission to throw caution to the wind and eat what I wanted because apparently it doesn’t count when you’re poorly. Sly fucker. I had to push the voice away at every single stall in the food hall. Speciality sausages, pies overflowing with steak and stilton, brownie bars and a hundred different flavours of cheese were all fair game…the Asshole lobbied hard and fast for all of them.

I’ve got to be honest, I was tempted. Don’t you think it’s harder to resist stuff when your defences are low? I do. I even tried a few samples this time, where last time I had a zero tolerance and managed to make it around without a single one. I counted them though, so it was controlled. I had four fingernail-sized pieces of cheese, a mouthful of pork pie and an eighth of a sausage on a stick so I’m fairly confident it won’t break the points bank. I bought a small pouch of smoked almonds which were all kinds of awesome, but they fitted easily into my weekly points, and that was the only thing I bought in the food hall.

It’s a shame I couldn’t quite pull off the same restraint when it came to the non-food side of things. However. I’ve only got one extra chin nowadays, so it’s harder to resist some of the lovely hand made jewellery because it’s starting to look nice on me again. And even though I’m still a bit Buddha-shaped, my body pretty much manages to squeeze into a size large these days, so the lack of XXXL duds didn’t cramp my style like it has done in the past.

There were lots of lovely little boutiques selling exactly the kind of stuff I like to wear, and I had arms like a fucking orangutang by the time we made it back to the car from carrying all the bags but you know what, I figured it was better than than allowing myself to get talked into buying pies, right?  I can’t be expected to resist everything, I mean I’m still a work in progress after all.

I’m not feeling confident about weigh-day tomorrow. My food plan has been on point, but I’ve been laid low and didn’t make a single visit to the Kingdom of Pain last week due to the pain and the pressure in my ear. But on a brighter note, the Physio has declared that my dodgy knee is on the mend, and I can go back to classes as normal this week, with just a couple of minor adjustments so hopefully I’ll start to build up my fitness again. I missed it, like a proper weirdo.

I’ll update the Shitbird page tomorrow whether it’s good, bad or ugly. Please lets all close our eyes and pray that it’s not bad or ugly 🙂

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An Appointment With The Poorly Blanket

In the here & now

Sorry chaps. I know you don’t like it when I go AWOL, so I’m just posting to say I’m not posting today. I’ve picked up an ear infection and it hurts like a bitch. The stuff I got from my Doctor doesn’t seem to be kicking in yet, and I’ve been awake nearly all night. I’m too distracted by ear ache to string a sentence together, in fact it feels like someone’s trying to jab a fucking knitting needle through my head.

Please may I be excused…I have an appointment with my poorly blanket.

I’ll be back when I’m feeling better 🙁

 

 

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One Foot In Afterwards

In the here & now, ,

It’s not often that I resent the fact that I have to work for a living, in fact the opposite is true. I enjoy my job a lot, and I love the company that I work for, but honestly, after having a lovely long run of ten days off, the very last thing I wanted to do last night was set my alarm for stupid o’clock, and haul my sorry ass back to work. I mean come on, surely it’s my turn to win the lottery or something?

If I didn’t have to work, I could spend my days doing all those things that I never have time to think about when I’m caught up in the daily grind. I’ve never not worked, and I realise that makes me more fortunate than some, but it’s been awesome this week just pottering around at home. And I’ll tell you what else, it’s been much easier to stick to my food plan, because there hasn’t been anywhere near the same amount of temptations that I’m used to fielding on a daily basis.

I can pretty much guarantee that in our office of ten people, one of us will be eating or chewing or grazing on something at any given point in time. And I can also guarantee that as soon as I hear the crinkle of a wrapper, my ears are all over it. I want in.

I can’t help wondering how long it will be before I get to the point where resisting temptation doesn’t come with a hefty dollop of resentment. Will it ever? I’ve become fairly well-rehearsed in the art of saying no and holding the line with the Asshole voice, but I’m still one hundred percent in that place where I want to mutter under my breath and kick whichever lucky bastard is eating the thing I can’t have as soon as the words leave my lips.

Resisting temptation makes me feel good afterwards, especially at bedtime if I’m reflecting on a day that hasn’t turned out to be a smart-points car crash. It’s the same when I go to the Kingdom of Pain, you know? I feel better afterwards, even though the hour of torture itself is still something I have to work hard at not resenting. The people make it fun, but for the record I fucking hate kettle bells until the end of time.

I reckon it’s more of a challenge to live in the moment when you’re trying to lose weight, because all the good stuff seems to happen after the event. Make the right choice, and then feel good about it afterwards. Do you think this is what normal people do, like all the time? Maybe I’ve lived my life so far with an upside-down approach…as far back as I can remember, gratification in the moment and regret and self recrimination afterwards is all I’ve ever known.

It’s taken me a while to learn how to appreciate the afterwards. The penny didn’t drop straight away, about cause and effect. I’m slowly turning the ship, but I’m still wrestling with the wheel and I think I probably will be for a good while yet. Maybe I always will. Maybe I’m just wired in a way that means feeling pissed off in the moment because I can’t eat what I really want to eat will always happen?

I hope not. I hope I’ll get to that place where resisting temptation is as natural as breathing. I live in hope 🙂

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That’s Not Normal

In the here & now, ,

I’m a bit late posting this morning, on account of the fact that my ass was dragging when I got into bed last night…sorry about that. I remember propping myself up on my pillows and balancing my Macbook on my lap like I always do when I’m getting ready to talk to you, but somehow things get a bit hazy after that point, right up until I woke up with a crick in my neck at about 4am. Muppet.

So, the post went unwritten, and I grabbed another couple of horizontal hours before scooting down to the Kingdom of Pain for my hour of torture and then coming home to eat beef stew for breakfast. I know, but in my defence there were the same number of points in the leftovers from last night’s supper as there would have been in poached eggs on toast and I’ve got to say for an impulse food choice it’s up there with the most enjoyed ever. Nom 🙂

So much for my lazy week off, it’s been hard work, due to my determination to sort all these clothes out. I spent half the day on Wednesday at it and all day yesterday – you might have seen the chaos if you follow the Facebook page- and although I’ve broken the back of it I’m probably looking at another full day today. Fuck’s sake, my storage locker is starting to take on mythical qualities, because despite carrying a steady stream of stuff out it doesn’t seem to be getting any less full, and I’m starting to suspect someone keeps bunging more stuff in it when I’m not looking.

I rent the storage locker because my little cottage has barely any storage space at all, so you know when you need somewhere to store random stuff like Christmas decorations and decorating equipment…the kind of things you don’t need very often? I do need additional space and it’s cheaper than selling up and buying a bigger house. Except over the years it seems to have been taken over by clothes. And you know what, as I’ve been going through them I’ve come to the realisation that I’m not right in the head. Nobody needs that many clothes.

On some level I get it, you know? Last time I reached the hallowed territory of size 12 – or 8 to my friends Stateside – I went wild with clothes shopping, and to be fair after losing a ton of weight I felt like I deserved it. Except I only stayed there long enough to smell the fucking roses and before I’d had chance to get settled in I started filling out my pants again, and then some.

Looking at the stuff I’m surrounded by as I write this, I can’t help thinking that maybe I was filling the void previously occupied with food by buying all this stuff? I mean, every skinny girl needs a pair of linen pants for the summer, right? I’m not sure she needs a pair in every fucking colour of the rainbow with several tops to match each one. Much less strappy tops which look gorgeous on anybody else’s body but never on mine because I don’t get my arms out for anyone.

For some reason which baffles me now, I’ve bought stuff I’d never wear in a month of Sundays, because being a skinny string bean still doesn’t unlock the door that stands between you and being able to wear anything ‘just because you love it’. It has to flatter the residual effects of all the time served in a very fat body and trust me when I say that in my case, that does not include strappy tops. The sight of that would scare children and small animals.

So I’m still plugging away. I’ve now got piles and piles of size 12/14/16/18/20/22/24/26/28 clothes to put on eBay. A lot of the smaller stuff hasn’t ever been worn for all the reasons I just talked about. I’m also looking at stuff through the lens of being the wrong side of fifty now, in particular the length of skirts and the depth of necklines. I mean I don’t mind being a rebel and I’m not particularly conventional anyway, but I don’t want to look like skinny mutton dressed as lamb, you know? *Shudders at the thought*.

I’ve got similar piles of stuff to keep in 18/16/14/12 and they’re all bagged up in sizes, so it’ll be easier going forward, I can just sell on the things that get too big, and go bring home the next size down. I’ve probably got another 4 big bags of stuff to bring home and sort out, and then I can take all the stuff I’m keeping back to the lock-up, and I’ll know exactly where to put my hands on it when I need it.

Yesterday, I sat and cursed the fact that I’d even started this…today I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m going to crack on and finish the job. It’s a bit like this whole journey when I think about it…daunting at first and feeling like I’ll never make any inroads much less finish the task but with the right amount of effort things always start to take shape, right?

Onwards 🙂

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I’ve Had Worse Weekends…

In the here & now, , ,

Did you have a good Easter? We had a lovely weekend away but I’ll tell you what, I’m so glad I’m off work for the rest of this week, I am knackered. I adore my mum, and it was so nice to spend some time together and make some memories, but she’s so frail these days I feel like I’ve been on pins for the whole time we were away, in case I broke her. We have laughed a lot, but it feels like the last four days have mainly involved me running around with a stressy on, trying to make sure that the right pills were dispensed at the right time, and that mum didn’t trip over the dog, or fall out of bed, or scald herself on the kettle.

And don’t even get me started on the nightly trauma of helping her up the stairs to bed, in a cottage housing the longest and steepest staircase I’ve ever seen, which required at least three rest stops on the way up, me following two or three steps behind mum with my shoulder wedged under her bum to try and provide a little support and forward momentum. Fortunately there was a downstairs loo, or we would have been royally buggered.

We did have one or two trips out to the beach, but mum tires really easily so to be honest we spent most of our time just curled up in front of the fire, in companionable silence you know? Mum with her feet up watching the snooker and me reading my book with Charlie snuggled up to one or the other of us on the sofa. I’ve definitely had worse weekends.

The people who owned the cottage had very kindly left us a bottle of wine in the fridge, and a big box of chocolates by way of a welcome, and you don’t need me to tell you that those fucking chocolates have nearly driven me to distraction. They sat squarely in the middle of the kitchen table, and they didn’t move all weekend, but boy did I ever know they were there.

Mum, having eaten the three little cellophane-wrapped cookies which had been part of the welcome provisions on the first night, put in a request for some more, and I’ve never been able to say no to my mum so we picked up a box of assorted biscuits to bring back to the cottage and they added their ten-penneth to the Asshole voice’s daily seduction routine…come on Dee, just have one…you know you want to…

By some miracle, I resisted. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to face plant into all things wicked, but I knew if I started on either one of those things I wouldn’t be able to stop. So not starting was the only way to go really, you know? I did have a treat on Easter Saturday, in the shape of the biggest fish you ever did see, encased in crisp golden batter and smothered with salt and vinegar from a chip shop in Filey. Holy fuck it was orgasmic.  I used my weekly points and vaporised it without one iota of guilt, and that made up for not starting on the chocolates. Well, almost. The chocolates were Milk Tray. Not my favourite. If they’d left us a big box of Black Magic we might have been having a different conversation.

Here’s the thing though…it’s weigh-day today. And last night I slept easy in my bed because I knew I’d done my absolute best. There was no pacing the floor or wringing of hands at the prospect of my conversation with the Shitbird Scale…I mean yes, okay I always feel like I’m walking the green mile when it’s time to step aboard, but I knew my input had been bang on the money. I wasn’t worried.

And did you see..? Four pounds off. Four! I’m going to struggle not to punch the air with every second step today, I’ve never lost four pounds in a week before! It was a best of one situation…that was my very first reading and I whipped out my phone, took the picture and had that Shitbird Scale back in it’s corner before it had a chance to change its mind. No second or third of fourth hop-on for me this week, even though it’s usually the third or fourth go that gives me the best number. I’ll take the first reading thank you, it’s the only one I need 🙂

 

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