Tag Archives: portion control

Doing It The Skinny Girl Way

Diet update, In the here & now, , ,

Smallest-Canepe-ASDA

Well, that’s December’s cherry well and truly popped…I had my first Christmas dinner of the season last night, and very nice it was too. It was a work function, an afternoon working session rounded off by a chance to kick back and relax with some colleagues over food and a few drinks. I vaguely remember I had to get my menu choices in a couple of weeks ago, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember what I’d ordered, but as it turns out that didn’t matter – someone had helpfully written everyone’s menu choice on their place cards.

That’s a great system, although I suspect the old me would have been a bit less impressed. I mean, hands up who hasn’t pretended they’d ordered what looks like the tastiest option when the plates start coming out…? This is mine..? No, there’s been a mistake, I ordered one of those ones…and if, you know that involved pointing to the plate with the most generous helping of whatever, well, that was purely a happy accident.

Anyway, no room for mistakes last night. With my halo in place and shining brightly I’d ordered melon for my starter…not a dinner option made by anyone, ever, unless they are watching their waistline. I mean don’t get me wrong, I LOVE melon…I’ve eaten two of them this week. But when I eat melon, I cut off the skin, chop it into big wedges and get stuck in.

Last night, it was beautifully arranged in the middle of the plate, fanned out with an artistic pea-sized smear of something sweet and red. I’m not kidding though, when I tell you that a good 90% of the plate was lacking the presence of melon. It’s like they were overwhelmed by demand and had to cut 100 portions from one melon. I looked around the table with envious eyes at the people who were tucking into filo goats cheese parcels with cranberry coulis, and pate with french toast.

I did feel better when my eyes landed on a bona fide skinny string bean colleague, who was the only other person on my table who’d chosen melon. Like me! I couldn’t help feeling elated because I was doing it the skinny girl way. Except I wasn’t, not really.

Every time I looked across the table she was either delicately cutting a piece off, or chewing, or dipping a bit of melon in the red pea sized smear…she made it last for like 15 minutes. Me? Two bites and the melon was history. 100% of my plate was a melon-free zone before she’d even decided which centimetre of melon to go in for first.

For my main course I’d ordered turkey with all the trimmings, and it was yummy. It’s always good to be reminded what normal portions look like – small, is what they look like to me if I’m being honest. But having said that, I didn’t over-indulge…chance would have been a fine thing, but it was nice not to be tested. Had there been any kind of test, I would have passed – by default – with flying colours, because I’m here to tell you if there was more than 400 calories on that plate I’ll bare my arse to the world.

I’d ordered the cheese board to finish with, for a number of reasons…firstly it came with grapes, and that’s healthy, right? Secondly there was only two cheeses mentioned, one of which was brie which I don’t like, so compared to the other options of Christmas pudding, chocolate tart or eton mess it seemed like the safest one. And it was. Two crackers and a matchbox sized serving of really tasty cheese with the six grapes on offer was just about perfect. Small, but perfect.

Incidentally, the bloke sat beside me – who had a very well cultivated mid-section – said the Christmas pudding wasn’t the best he’d eaten. He still almost took the pattern off the plate in his eagerness to finish it all though. It’s a good job I wasn’t drinking…a couple of glasses of fizz inside me and I might have invited him to join the posse.

So, I drove home feeling very smug. To be fair, there was very limited opportunity for the asshole in my mind to talk me into anything. My sensible choices were made way ahead of time, but I still I resisted the coffee and mince pies afterwards…get me, a regular little goody two shoes. Mind you, tonight might be a bit different…tonight’s invitation involves a different set of work friends, beer and something described by the host as dirty pizza. Much harder to resist. But you know I’m on it 🙂

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Why Would I Do That?

Freeform thoughts, In the here & now, , ,

leftovers

So I think we’ve established by now that I have a fat-girl mindset. Even during those golden periods in my life when I’ve managed to shed the pounds and do a fair impression of being a skinny girl. I’ve never stayed skinny long enough for it to really get inside my psyche and I’ve certainly never felt like a skinny girl from the inside out. Not that I’ve recognised that before of course, but then it’s not the first time either that the process of tipping out my head spam like a collection of lipsticks, fluff and crumbs from the bottom of an old handbag for examination and discussion with you guys has helped me to shine a light on things I’ve never considered before.

Something that skinny string beans do, that I’ve never done is to leave food on my plate. Just the thought of it fills me with horror…I mean, why would I?  I’m at the opposite end of the spectrum…you’re far more likely to catch me licking the plate than leaving anything on it. Which would, I’m sure, prompt a skinny string bean to throw me exactly the same look of bewilderment that I’d give her for leaving half a pork chop and a dollop of bread sauce…or worst still, a roast potato, I mean that’s practically a criminal offence.

We’ve talked before about my broken ‘full filter’ and the fact that I don’t know when to stop but that’s a bit different…leaving something on your plate is something people offer up as a strategy to manage their weight. Come on, that’s like torture with every meal! So I’m eating something I’m really enjoying…I’ve done the mental calculations, I reckon I’ve got maybe eight mouthfuls left. I’m crafting my final approach, what’s going on the fork with what..what morsel can I use to mop up the gravy..? What’s the best big bit for the last grains of rice to cling to…it’s all planned like a military operation, and yet you want me to lay down my knife and fork now?? And leave the rest..?  Why would I do that??

That’s like living in a world where you walk away from every meal feeling cheated. It’s the scenario with my cheesy bugle playing on a loop, at every meal time. No matter which way up I look at it, I just don’t get it. Other strategies I understand…use a smaller plate? Yes I can see the benefit of that. Cook just the right amount so you don’t have the opportunity to overload…yes, I get that too. But cook it, enjoy it and leave it when you’re not actually in danger of bursting at the seams…no no no no!

Not only have I always finished everything on my own plate, many’s the time I’ve found myself flirting with the leftovers on everyone else’s plate too, especially when my son was little. Stuff he didn’t eat like a fish finger here, or a handful of fries there never made it as far as the dog’s bowl or the bin…somewhere between clearing the table and stacking the plates I’d find myself hoovering up whatever was left. My friend had the same issues but she was more disciplined than I was, even back then…she would encourage her son to tip pepper over the food he left on his plate to stop her picking at his leftovers. I always thought that was a great idea, I just never told my boy in case he actually did it.

It’s hardly surprising that an aversion to leaving food is hardwired into my DNA, if you’ve read my blog from the beginning and you saw the post Born Chewing you’ll have some idea of the relationship I formed with food from a very early age…that photo of me demonstrates more than words ever could how finishing every morsel of food was considered something to celebrate. But I’ve spent the last thirty odd years since reaching adulthood sidestepping every opportunity to unplug my wires and untangle them. I’m trying to do that now.

Smaller portions, yes. Better food choices, yes. Leaving food on the plate..? It’ll  never happen 🙂

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Is Fat Catching?

Freeform thoughts, In the here & now, , ,

friendsSo I read an interesting article the other day which made me think.  It seemed to suggest that if your friends are fat, you have an increased risk of becoming fat yourself. Hmm. Lets just think about that for a second…that’s like suggesting that being fat is contagious, like a disease you might get if you hug me then don’t immediately wash your hands…how bloody insulting.  If word of this gets out I’d best prepare for a mass exodus of friends, after all lets be honest, nobody’s going to want to risk  being around me if that’s the case 🙁

Having said that, after my initial flash-point reaction of thinking the article had clearly been written by some skinny fuckwit with fat issues, I calmed down a bit and thought about it for a while, and you know what, I can see a world in which there might be just a tiny element of truth buried in there somewhere. By definition, I guess the people you hang out with are into the kind of things you’re into. So if you’re into fitness and an active lifestyle, your friends probably are too. If you’re a foodie and your free time is spend hunting down new places to go eat, stands to reason your besties enjoy that too.

Pop quiz – when I get together with my friends, do we

a) Go to a step-class and work out for four hours burning 5000 calories each before going out for a salad washed down with iced water and vitamin pills, or

b) Go to a movie, eat Haagen Dazs and popcorn whilst we’re watching it and then go out for pizza, pudding and cocktails..?

Yes…it’s never going to be option A. We would probably burn off at least half the ice-cream laughing through the course of the evening but it’s not going to be a calorie conscious night out. Well, in pre-diet days anyway.  But still – none of my friends look like I do. They come in all shapes and sizes, as you might expect. But as far as I can see, nobody has caught fat from me yet, therefore that kind of begs the question, why do I look like this, and they don’t..?

I think I can answer that. After our night out, they’ll probably all step off the calories for a couple of days, because that’s what normal people do. It’s all about balance and that’s the bit I struggle with…when I’m not dieting, I eat all the wrong stuff, and portion control..? Doesn’t even occur to me, I mean portion control is what you do when you’re dieting, right?  Not when you’re off the leash.  So I can do dieting, and I can do not dieting, but woven together so I broadly style it out across the week..?  That I can’t do…it’s one (and I get fatter) or the other (and I get skinnier).

So, when the skinny girl breaks out and I get to a size that I feel happy with, that’s the time when I need to wake up and learn a whole new way of being. Old dog, new tricks? Yep, count me in…I’m ready to learn 🙂

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