Category Archives: In the here & now

Back In The Saddle Again

In the here & now, , ,

I’m so excited, and you’ll never guess what I’ve gone and done…I’ve only dug my bike out of the shed and taken it to the bike shop to be serviced. I know, right? It’s at least seven years since it saw any action, and I’d kind of thought in the back of my mind that I’d hold on until I reached a certain size before I took the plunge. The size where children and small animals wouldn’t run for cover for a start, at the sight of my arse in cycling shorts.

But you know what, I was chatting with some friends last weekend after one of the gang had been out for a spin, and we all agreed we’d enjoy riding along the canal path together one of these days, so I thought knickers to it, why wait. And now I’m really really giddy.

Cycling is the only active pursuit where I’ve properly caught the bug, you know? Where I’ve done it for pleasure as opposed to doing it for exercise. Last time I lived in Skinny Town I used to go out on my bike pretty much every day and I’d think nothing of hopping aboard and killing twenty or thirty miles. One or two of my favourite ever days have been spent on two wheels so it’s fair to say that now I’ve decided it’s time to get back in the saddle, I can hardly wait.

It feels like a bit of a milestone moment to be honest. It’s a thing, you know? A throwback to the fit and skinny life that I spent a long time missing, and a long time doubting that I’d ever get back to. It’s one of the things I’ve most looked forward to since I started this journey and I’m so grateful that I’ve managed to come this far, although you might need to remind me that I’ve said that when my arse cheeks are rubbed raw from the first two or three outings.

Most of all, it means that now the nights are lighter, on the days that I get in  from work too late to get down to the Kindgom of Pain, I still have a workout option, and that could be a proper game-changer.

I was hoping to have it back by Saturday but I think it’s more likely to be after the weekend. To be fair, years of inactivity meant it limped across the threshold of the bike shop with two flat tyres, and a set of seized up gears,  so I suspect it’ll need more than a little TLC to breathe life back into it.

It’s perhaps just as well, because I’ve got a final exam next week relating to some professional development that I’ve been doing at work. At least I won’t need to sit on an ice pop whilst I revise over the weekend…every cloud, right? ?

 

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One Battle At A Time

In the here & now, , ,

One of the guys who I’ve worked alongside for the last couple of years moved on to start a new job last week, and although I was out and about on his last day, when I arrived at the office after the weekend, his parting gift of chocolate for the team was lying in wait on the desk as I walked through the door.

I wasn’t bothered by it on Monday. Beyond a fleeting thought along the lines of how thoughtful he’d been to leave it, it didn’t really register. Yesterday on the other hand, the same chocolate drove me to hell and back. Especially around mid-afternoon when I made a cup of tea.

I’d eaten lunch at 11.40am because the roast beef sandwich on soft wholemeal bread that I’d carefully made to bring to work had toyed with me all morning. Holding out until the clock was at least edging towards 12.00pm had been a miracle in itself given the number of times my mind had unwrapped the foil over the course of the morning. To be honest, it was lucky to survive my journey to work, because It was just one of those days, you know? The kind where your mind is constantly pre-occupied with what you’re going to eat.

I don’t often eat bread these days, maybe once or twice a week. It’s not particularly a trigger food for me – well, not unless we’re talking about warmed Tiger bread lathered with salted butter obviously – but it just always strikes me as a bit heavy on the old food budget and I begrudge spending the points. However, the cold beef left over from supper the night before had begged to be eaten as I’d done a recce of the fridge, so there it was, locked and loaded. And gone, by 11.45am.

Thing is, I can smash down a sandwich in no time. At least with my usual salad box it takes me a beat between mouthfuls to chase a shred of lettuce around with my fork. I might pause to add a little salad cream here or there, or a little seasoning. With a pre-made sandwich, there’s no messing around is there? It was like the culinary equivalent of premature ejaculation. No foreplay, and over in seconds once I’d unwrapped the foil…  yes, yes, YES…oh. Are we done?

By mid afternoon I could’ve eaten my own arm, I mean I was starving. And every time I walked back to my desk from one meeting or another I was greeted by the sight of these two boxes of chocolates. Bit by bit they started to chip away at my resolve. Surely one wouldn’t hurt? I’ve proved that I can survive without chocolate haven’t I, I mean look at me…we’re well into May and I haven’t eaten any since Christmas. I’ve got so much skin in the game it’s unreal, so surely I’d be safe with just one?

I got as far as saying fuck it out loud as my hand reached for the box, only to be stopped in my tracks by a colleague. She looked so genuinely shocked that I might be about to break my long run of resisting temptation that I put the box down and retreated back to my chair with my tail between my legs. And she was right. Of course she was right. She knew as well as I did that I wouldn’t have stopped at one. I would have had three, or seven, or maybe ten and then I’d have stopped at the store on my way home and bought some more. I’d probably still be chewing them as I write this.

Even though I know what lies in store if I awaken the beast, I almost went there. I just about clung on with my fingernails, but I’m hoping today will be easier. It’s a brand new week. My conversation with the Shitbird Scale this morning contained a few naughty words…I’m not sure this experiment about how and when I spend my points is working. I’ll stick with it for another week and then make a call.

I’ve felt vulnerable and a bit out of control these last few days, so I’m claiming yesterday as a victory. That’s how wars are won, right? One battle at a time 🙂

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A Quick Transaction

In the here & now, ,

Well yesterday was testing, I seemed to spend pretty much the whole day vexed with one thing or another. My mum had lost one of her hearing aids when I went to collect her after lunch, which is unfortunate because the one she wears in her other ear is currently away being repaired, so with no help in either ear it’s fair to say we’ve had easier days when it comes to communication.

God knows where it’s got to. She thinks she put it in a safe place, only now she can’t remember exactly where that was. She was frustrated because she couldn’t hear anybody and by the end of the day, I was getting that way myself. And then I felt guilty. It’s not her fault, you know? Mum gets very confused these days although to be fair, even before old age messed with her memory my Mum’s safe places had a lot in common with the fucking Bermuda Triangle .

The day wasn’t helped by my decision to burn fourteen of my thirty three points on a big breakfast. I had no weeklies left, so I sailed really close to the wind, in fact I went over by a couple of points at the end of the day. I’d done a supermarket shop, so the fridge was full and the cupboards were looking healthy which is always dangerous when I’m starving. Eating a big breakfast meant that I wasn’t hungry at lunchtime, so I just grabbed a piece of fruit, and ate dinner around 4.30pm, which used up the rest of my daily points allowance. By 8pm I was ravenous. And skint. No food budget left at all.

That’s the point at which the Asshole voice woke up and spied a window of opportunity. Why don’t you have something to eat? This is ridiculous! You’re hungry, and you’ve had a really tough day…nobody would blame you for going over your food budget just this once and you’ve only really bought healthy stuff so what harm could it do? You’re a grown woman, it’s not right that you should have to sit there and starve! 

I resisted all evening. Right up until the moment I went into the kitchen to pick up my bag so I could take it upstairs with me to bed. On the way past the food cupboard I accidentally ate three walnuts and a drizzle of organic honey. As you do. And that little indiscretion pushed me three points over what I’m allowed for the day. I mean, I appreciate that doesn’t sound a lot but it’s almost ten percent over. It’s the start of the slippery slope. That’s all that was racing through my head as I lay in bed last night and reflected on the day.

I’m chasing two pounds this week. Going over my daily allowance isn’t exactly going to cover me in glory, is it? I won’t be doing a victory step-on after I’ve recorded the number on Wednesday if I let that frame of mind take a hold, you know the one that thinks it’s okay to push the boundaries.

In the back of my mind yesterday as I stood in front of the cupboard and pushed those walnuts into my face, tipping my head back so I could squeeze the honey straight into my mouth I was transported back to those days where that kind of action was familiar. It was a quick transaction, you know? A swift surreptitious snack in the half light of the under-cupboard halogens, out of sight of anyone. Well, anyone except the dog, who heard the food cupboard open from three rooms away and immediately assumed the position by my feet like a one-dog SWAT team just in case anything got dropped.

Also in the back of my mind was the intention to knock those extra three points off today’s total…sort of like a loan that has to be paid back. This morning, I can see that for exactly what it is…a fine example of broken thinking. The Asshole was behind that pearl of wisdom, in a move designed to undermine today too. Go to bed feeling like you messed up and start the next day feeling disadvantaged and with an even smaller food budget than usual…way to go to set today up for a fail too. But at least I see it, right? I know his game, and he can fuck right off.

Yesterday’s gone. All I need to do today is colour inside the lines. Stick to my food budget, and make good choices. It’s all okay…I can do that 🙂

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Living On Dust

In the here & now, ,

It’s all very well you know, this new way of spending my food budget but I’ve got to be honest, the days where there are no weekly points on offer are a bit bleak. I went to bed last night feeling like I hadn’t eaten for a week. Seriously, I could’ve gnawed my own arm off.

And it’s a bit of a double whammy, right? The way weight watchers allocates your points budget largely depends on what you weigh, so as you work your way down the scale, they knock the odd point off here or there. I get thirty three points to spend every day now I’ve lost a bunch of weight, but when I started it was well into the forties. And I’m here to tell you, thirty three points goes nowhere. And yet, I guarantee that there’ll be folk in the posse who are much nearer Skinny Town than I am whose eyes are out on stalks at the prospect of thirty three, because they’ll be on like twelve.

It’s weird isn’t it, it’s the only system I’ve ever know that rewards success by taking shit away. I suppose they have to, but given that I’m only halfway to Skinny Town I reckon by the time I get there I’m going to living on dust.

Having lived life as a grown-up without food boundaries for the last thirty odd years, getting my head around what a normal portion of food looks like continues to be a struggle for me every single day. Take yesterday for example. I bought a boxed salad for lunch, with ham, but I had to push it and buy a cooked chicken breast off the deli too, just to bulk it out a bit. Because, you know, a ham salad wouldn’t have been enough on it’s own. Of course it would, for a normal person. But to me it seemed stingy.

And when I cook dinner, I eat a mountain of vegetables. Which happen to be free of points, so that’s all well and good however I don’t suppose that whoever wrote the algorithm for deciding how many points are in stuff imagined for a second that anyone would ever sit down and eat a double head of broccoli and a full bag of sprouts alongside the main event when they decided to make all vegetables points-free. I can do that. Easily.

I’d probably do well to remember that although there are foods which are free of points, they’re not free of calories. And no matter how effective the points system is, if you take in more calories than you burn off, you’re knackered. Scoffing a full punnet of strawberries or a whole melon isn’t necessarily working to the spirit of what the points-free element of my food plan is all about, right? It’s taking the piss a bit, if I look myself in the eye and have a come to Jesus conversation.

I’m chasing a two pound loss this week, off the back of a sedentary week which nudged me a cock-hair in the wrong direction. So I can’t afford to take the piss.

Best stop then, dammit 🙂

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It Could’ve Been Worse

In the here & now, , ,

So I’m not going to win any prizes for slimmer of the week am I, but all things considered it could have been worse. One quarter pound on isn’t the biggest disaster in the world, right? I get it. More than that, I probably deserved it to be fair. I don’t think there’s been a week in the last twelve months where I missed my exercise goal every single day, but I did last week. In my defence, for at least four of those days I felt like crap, although it didn’t stop me from eating my weeklies from the cocoon I created under my poorly blanket. I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I felt entitled.

It’s easier to accept a crap output when you understand the reasons why, don’t you think? I never seethe with resentment and fantasise about taking a hammer to the Shitbird Scale when I know I’ve had a bad week, because it sort of feels fair. When I accept responsibility for putting on a shit show, I have no axe to grind with a shit number. No, I reserve those fantasies for weeks where I’ve brought my A game and the Shitbird’s just being spiteful. Anyway, last week was shit, so let’s move on. I’m going for two pounds this week. Are you in?

I had a dabble with some fake tan last night, and you know what, it looks pretty good. I thought I’d better point it out in case you looked at the Shitbird’s page and thought I had dirty feet. I don’t look as dark as I did when I had the spray tan, but I definitely look like I’ve been toasted. It’s a product called Skinny Tan, I don’t know if you’ve seen it but they reckon it hides cellulite too. Which is awesome, but I can’t confirm or deny those rumours because I only rubbed it in to just above the knee. No point wasting it on no-man’s land, right? It doesn’t seem to have done much for the lumpy bits on my upper arms if I’m brutally honest, but then nothing coming out of a tube is going to fix that particular war zone.

The thing is, I feel nice with a bit of colour, and isn’t that all that matters? When I opened my eyes this morning I saw one of my new shirts hanging outside the wardrobe, with the necklace I’m going to accessorise it with strung over the hanger. I had my shoes picked out, and my pants…it’s so hard to explain to a skinny string bean that the privilege of feeling good in your clothes isn’t simply a given…I don’t think I’ll ever take that feeling for granted, you know? Eighty four pounds ago, I didn’t even notice which shapeless monstrosity I was pulling over my head on any given day, much less enjoy wearing it. Put me in front of a mirror these days and I preen like a fucking budgie.

That’s just one of the dozens of ways in which it’s nicer being me now, as opposed to then. I’m starting to feel like my life is fitting me better, and not just my clothes.  It’s what keeps me going forward. That, and you lot, who never fail to lift my mood when you reach out and tell me about your own journey, and struggles and triumphs.  I can’t even find the words to tell you how awesome it is when one of you takes the time to let me know that what happens in these pages helps you too.

Come on…let’s smash it this week 🙂

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