Tag Archives: new start

A Brand New Copybook

In the here & now, , ,

Ok so this is special. It’s a Monday, and it’s the first day of a brand new year…that happens only once every seven years, right? Unless leap years bugger up that sequence once in a while, but whatever. The stars are aligned and I’m actually feeling more than a bit giddy as I write this. It’s a sign, kind of a double whammy if you like.

I’m trying to frame this in my head as though everything I’ve done, and everything I’ve learned in the two years, four months and sixteen days since I decided to wrestle my life back from the brink of obesity-related immobility has led me right to this point. And this point is where my dummy run ends, and I step out for real. I know. I feel like I should be speaking in hushed tones, so significant is this moment…

Okay okay so I know I’m being a bit over the top, but come on, if ever there was a new start that was worthy of being called a new start, this is it. I’ve opened a brand new shiny book, and I’m ready to start filling the pages with my 2018 story. I’m going to make it a good one.

Last year…well. Let’s just say that 2017 failed to impress me on a number of levels. That’s an understatement actually, it was probably the most difficult year I’ve ever had. Losing my Godmum was a sucker punch even though we knew it was coming, and watching my mum become increasingly frail in both mind and body has been excruciating.

On the other hand, I have so much to be grateful for. I’m surrounded by some amazing friends. My boy makes my heart swell with pride every single day. I have a job that I love and I feel really established in my life, you know? I get to travel to some amazing places and I’m healthy enough to really enjoy all of it in a way that I couldn’t before this all started.

And lets not forget these pages…having this creative outlet where I can let all my thoughts and feelings loose and hang out with you guys is awesome. I can be completely honest, safe in the knowledge that you understand me without judging because you’ve walked a mile in my shoes, and you’re always ready to join me in laughing at the utter tragedy of living my life on a fucking diet. All of that is the reason I’m still hanging in here as determined as ever to reach my goals.

I’m still trying to get a grip of it all but to be fair that’s one of the things I’m most thankful for, you know? There’s been no quick fix, no instant results and most of all no cure for the surplus curves I stuff into my pants every day but by some miracle I’m still here almost two and a half years into my journey.

I’ve fallen down a lot and I’ve taken so many wrong turns I’ve lost count but it doesn’t matter does it? All that matters is that I learned over and over how to get up again and keep on pushing forward. Perfection isn’t the secret...tenacity is where it’s at.

Let’s try to take more steps forwards than backwards this year eh? I’m looking at my weight loss across 2017 and accounting for the genius relocation of the shitbird scale into the bath which bumped the number upwards, I’ve netted out the year with a 2lb loss. Yes boys and girls, in the whole of 2017 that’s all I lost.

Now, I could hurl myself at the floor and have a big fat tony bear tantrum and the sheer injustice of that, or I could suck it up and pat myself on the back for at least ending the year smaller than when it started. I choose that one, because I don’t want any negativity colouring the pages of my brand new copybook. Only good things are getting included in my 2018 story.

How about yours? Come on, let’s make this year count…we deserve skinny after all this effort, right? We have so much support in these pages, because we’re all on the same journey and we’re all here to prop each other up. See that little map at the top of the page? That’s where you’re all at…it’s the geolocation footprint of everybody who reads along. The orange bits are where we have the highest number of friends, but there are readers, and lurkers, and regular corresponders everywhere that’s coloured in…that pretty much blows my mind.

Wherever you’re celebrating New Year, I’m sending big love to each and every one of you in the hope that 2018 will be your best year yet. I’m excited to continue sharing this journey…Skinny Town here we come 🙂

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It’s All Relative, Right?

In the here & now, ,

So yesterday morning I walked the green mile into my bathroom to face the Shitbird conversation with more than a bit of trepidation. I probably deserve a prolonged stint on the naughty step to think about what I ate between between Sunday and Tuesday, but from Wednesday onwards I’ve been following the new Weight Watchers flex programme, and I mean following it to the letter.

I didn’t know what to hope for really, so I kept my fingers crossed that the needle didn’t go in the wrong direction, and technically it didn’t. Except it did.

I should probably set the scene…I was already muttering under my breath as I limbered up for the Shitbird Shuffle, because it’s honestly a pain in the ass. My bathroom floor is made up of hundreds of little mosaic tiles, and being a very old cottage there’s not a wall or a floor that’s flat or true, so I can honestly hop on twenty times and get twenty different numbers. It’s a pantomime that I go through every week.

Obviously I’ve always picked the lowest number, which more often than not is offered up by the tiles starting three black squares to the left of the bath. It might not be one hundred percent spot-on but it’s all relative isn’t it, and the numbers I’ve recorded have been a fairly indicative route map of my journey.

The thing is, I’ve just never been sure how accurate the Shitbird really was. The scale in the Kingdom of Pain for example always seemed to weigh a good seven pounds more than mine.  The Asshole voice convinced me that was God of Pain’s dirty trick to make me work harder. The other thing is, it’s not unheard of for mine to offer me a range of 8 to 10lbs between the lowest and the highest number, depending on how long I keep it going and how many times I jump on and off.  So there’s no wonder it pushes my buttons, right?

Anyway, as I set off dribbling the scale around the bathroom like some kind of square glass football, it suddenly occurred to me that if I lifted the Shitbird thing into the bath, it might be a bit less volatile. For the love of God why didn’t I think about doing that before? It turns out I am officially a genius. For the first time ever, it doesn’t matter how much I nudge it up and down with my foot, it stares back at me with the same number over and over again because it’s on a completely flat base. I know! The only downside is the number is higher. By quite a lot.

I think I prefer the wonky number to be honest. Actually, I nearly had a fucking cardiac arrest when the Shitbird thing tried to tell me I’d gained 11lbs, especially since I already knew I’d lost weight this week.  That said, at least going forward if it’s consistent I get a number I can hang my hat on, right? Under the old weigh-day waltz system I’ve lost half a pound this week, not gained, and I’ve still lost the same amount overall. I was just heavier than I thought I was when I started in 2015, and I’m heavier now than I thought I was yesterday.

I’m quite impressed that I’m not freaking out actually. Half of me wanted to carry on with how I’ve always done it just to preserve the not-quite-as-shit-as-that number that I’ve been reporting against, but it’s only a number, right? My arse didn’t get smaller or bigger just because I weighed in the bath, I’ve just recalibrated and I’ve got more to go after that’s all. It’s no biggie, and it feels right that I bring out my dead so I can completely draw a line under everything that’s gone before.

I’ve got one week exactly before I hit Christmas, and I’m going to make it count. Shall we go for three off?  🙂

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Packing Away The Attitude

In the here & now, , , ,

Well first of all, let’s have a resounding cheer for those amongst us who hit the new year feeling blissfully happy and proud at how well they coped with all the excesses of the festive season…yeee…what?

Ah. Not just me then.

If you did it, if you pulled it out of the bag then you’re my hero. Personally, I’ve been on the ropes a bit, in fact I’m not going to lie, sometimes I wasn’t even in the fucking ring. I was doing so well too. Even I can see that the timing was shit…after my major-league wobble I managed eleven straight days of clean eating, right up until the day before Christmas  Eve but then the wheels fell off my very fragile food sobriety once again and it’s been open season in the space between then and now.

I can only liken my Christmas to the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan, where some poor bloke is elbow deep in mud with bullets whizzing perilously close to his tin hat as he tried to navigate the battlefield and claw his way to the other side. Except in my case they weren’t bullets, they were chocolates and cookies and salty snacks. No cheese balls, in case you were wondering…I didn’t cross that line. Yey me. However, it was the single piece of restraint I managed to show, and it was more symbolic than waistline-friendly.

Well, I say fuck it…that was last year, right?

I’ve packed away my Christmas decorations this morning, and I’ve stuffed my Christmas Eating Attitude right down to the bottom of the box, next to the really shit baubles, you know the old tatty ones that get strung at the back of the tree where nobody sees? As I taped up the box for another year, it felt a bit like that Biggest Loser episode, you know the one where they climb a big hill wearing backpacks containing the equivalent amount of weight that they’ve lost and then they lob it off the top of the hill? They all cry and congratulate each other and then go home and hit the gym for last chance workout.

I had a false start yesterday. It was the first of January and it was a Sunday, so two new starts for the price of one…a new year and brand new Weight Watchers week. I made it ’till about 4pm and then I blew it. I was feeling really sad after a visit to my Godmother who is terminally ill. When she was first diagnosed the doctors said that they couldn’t cure her, but she’d probably be able to rub along for a good few years yet. Now they’re not telling her that any more. And I know it’s part of the circle of life, but it seemed like a good reason to eat everything that was left in my Christmas cupboard when I got home and then sit and cry about how unfair life is.

So today is my actual day one. I haven’t changed my weigh-day, and I’m not about to take the piss by insisting that I wait until next Sunday because otherwise it’s not a full week…today is it.

I know I have to make some changes. I need to get more accountable, you know? I mean sure, I already share with you my losses and my gains, but the overall pattern gets lost in the mix and I can hide from it too easily by cracking a joke here and there, so here’s the thing…I’ve been tidying the blog up over the last few days, getting ready for the new year and archiving stuff properly and as part of that I’ve made a new page – the Shitbird Scale now has a voice. And there, every Sunday, I will post a picture of our weekly conversation.

Shit the bed, did I actually say that out loud?

Well, it seems I did. And look at what the fucking hokey cokey diet has done to my weight loss…my regain was 15lbs prior to stuffing the Asshole back in his box before Christmas, and now it’s morphed into a 22lbs regain. I’m 22lbs heavier than my pre-Cuba weight. That means I’m 22lbs further away from my goal weight of 147lbs. All because I’m a muppet.

So the box is taped shut, my Christmas Eating Attitude is packed away and today, so far, feels like a new start. One minute at a time. I have 120lbs to lose and I’m going after it.

Who’s with me?

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