Monthly Archives: August 2016

Me And My Big Mouth

In the here & now, , , ,

So I reached Thursday this week without having visited the Kingdom of Pain since the weekend. It wasn’t by choice, I promise, I’ve just had a crazy work schedule this week. I don’t go on Mondays because God of Pain has a stand-in (even Guru’s have to take a day off, right?) and it’s not the same. Tuesday I had early meetings followed at the end of the day by dinner with our new boss, and Wednesday was a proper killer. I had a 3.45am alarm call to get a 5am train and it was almost 7pm when I got back home, so fitting in a class just wasn’t humanly possible until yesterday.

And somehow that made yesterday feel really hard. I did not want to go do that early workout, for the first time in ages. I laid in bed when my alarm went off, running through pretty much the whole of the Asshole’s repertoire you know? Stay in bed, you had such a long day yesterday, you’re too old for this shit…today you should scrape by with the bare minimum, conserve your energy and take a load off…you need a rest. You might hurt yourself if you’re tired…blah blah blah.

I went, of course I went but the going sort of teetered on a knife-edge for a moment. The only thing less appealing than dragging my sorry ass out of bed was cancelling the session and getting nailed by the full force of his disapproval. And I felt so guilty at the way I’d tried to talk myself out of going that I went from one extreme to the other and shot my mouth off, totally putting the kibosh on all things naughty whilst I’m away on holiday in the next couple of weeks.

I think the blood must have rushed to my head or something as I jogged on the spot in-between torture stations, because I only went and made a point of telling him that I was going away, and requested, yes requested that he personally weigh me next Friday before I leave, and again a week on Sunday when we get back to make sure I haven’t put any weight on over the course of my cruise.

I mean WTF?? I earned an approving nod of his head as he agreed to it. Well of course he fucking agreed to it, he’s the actual diet police. I can’t think of a more effective way to make absolutely sure I stick to my food plan.

What usually happens when I’m presented with something I shouldn’t eat but really want, is that you’ll hear me say no…no really I’m sure…yes very sure thanks…oh fuck it go on then. I guess I’ve shut the door on that one, right? And you know what it’s like on a cruise, there are chefs hiding around every corner waiting to force-feed you cake. Step on like a girl, step off like a foie gras.

There’s two big reasons why I need to hit this with a straight bat – firstly if I don’t, and I have a week long chew-fest, no way will I be able to get back in the game when I get home. Secondly it’s taken me the last two months to lose ten pounds, and I could put all that back on in the course of a week, and then some…I’ve done it many times and it’s just not worth it.

Plus which, I’ve got to admit as I dress for my skinny dinners in one of my new little size 18 numbers, not feeling like Shamu in a frock is going to really help in the willpower department, you know? And imagine, clothes that fit me as we set sail still fitting me as we arrive back into port…I don’t think that’s ever happened before 🙂

Anyway, I’m just home from doing the ‘muffin tops and bingo wings class’, which is it’s own little world of pain. Tonight I’m boxing, and tomorrow a bunch of us from the Kingdom of Pain are going to conquer Pen Y Ghent, which is a 6 mile walk up one of Yorkshire’s peaks. At almost 700m it’s not far short of the mountain in Cuba that I’ll be looking at in a few weeks’ time. Then Sunday I’m back for the circuit training and boxing combo to kick off my last pre-holiday week.

Have an awesome weekend chaps 🙂

Before you go, we have a new contributor on the Guest Spot – Thoughts From The Posse Page if you’d like to check it out…Deb is an accidental guest writer, since I pulled the words from a note she sent me rather than her setting out to write a post but I could relate to every word, and I’m sure she’d benefit from a little encouragement from the posse. Knowing other people had walked a mile in my shoes when I started my journey helped me no end…you’re a bunch of wise old owls 🙂

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I Didn’t Even Notice

In the here & now, , ,

I had dinner last night with all my colleagues at work – our boss is leaving next month and last night we met the lady who’s joining the business as his replacement. It was really nice to meet her in a social environment first, and one of the things our team is really good at is being sociable. I think it’s fair to say that we all enjoyed the evening, and both our new boss and our team passed muster on all fronts I think…we passed each others’ tests.

Do you know what I didn’t think about, until I was in the car on the way home? What I looked like. This time last year I would have been completely pre-occupied with that, you know? Before, during and after the event. What would she think about the way I looked and what assumptions would she make about me based on first impressions? Were all my chins going to be distracting with their ongoing momentum as we chatted, and was my menu choice going to be scrutinised as part of her assessment of me..? Ahhh…that’s why she’s such a tub of lard! Bad choice, fatty…

Of course she wouldn’t have thought that at all, in fact she was probably far too daunted at the prospect of walking into a restaurant to meet a tightly-knit team who are collectively devastated at the prospect of losing their much-loved leader to pay much heed to anything other than hoping we liked her, but as a seriously fat girl I somehow always managed to make it about me, like I was some kind of special being requiring separate consideration.

I was quite comfortable last night. I fitted on the chair, which in that restaurant in particular used to be a worry – visiting it in past times meant sitting gingerly on small round seats and to be honest back in the day I could’ve done with one whole chair under each bum cheek. We sat in a different spot last night, they’d reserved us a long table with a bench running the whole length. I fitted in, and I wasn’t squashed. No need to push the table away and eat at arms length to accommodate my bulk…I was comfortable.

And you know what, I felt nice. Relatively speaking of course, because I’ve got a long way to go yet but I was wearing new clothes, in a size 18 – that’s a 14 to my friends across the pond – which is where I was aiming to get to before my holiday. They weren’t straining at the seams either…they fitted me just fine.

The funny thing is, I didn’t even notice that I felt nice until I thought about it afterwards, because I was too busy being in the moment. And that’s huge. I can’t even tell you what it feels like not to be preoccupied, worried, obsessed even by the space I’m taking up in the world and what people might think about it, to the point where enjoyment and being present in any moment is eclipsed by the cripplingly dark shadow of self-consciousness. God, those were dark days.

It wasn’t all sunshine and roses last night…faced with a menu stuffed full of fat-girl-wet-dream fodder, I’ve got to be honest, making skinny choices brought on a momentary strop in the Asshole corner of my mind. I didn’t choose the deep fried breaded cheese with onion marmalade, which made my mouth water before I’d even finished reading the description. I would have killed my granny for that appetiser, but the strop passed and what I had was lovely.

I got over myself. On a scale of  one to ten what I ate was a tiny bit naughty but nobody’s going to throw me in jail over it. It qualified as a treat without kicking the arse out of it. No guilt this morning, or feeling that I’ve gone off-piste…it’s all good.

Choose this, get this…I’m learning 🙂

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Cruising Skinny-Girl Style…

In the here & now, ,

It suddenly occurred to me just before the weekend that I’ve got a holiday coming up in a couple of weeks…I’ve been so preoccupied with the trek, and everything related to it like my fitness classes and all the walking, that whilst I hadn’t exactly forgotten about my holiday, I’ve not really given it any thought at all.

The friend who I’m going with has been island-hopping in Greece for the last two weeks so we’ve not been doing our usual giddy countdown, which is probably why it’s only just hit my radar. She’s back now though, and we spent a couple of happy hours on the phone last night planning all the detail. We’re cruising from Southampton up through the Norwegian Fjords, which has been a long-standing feature on my bucket list…the scenery will be absolutely breathtaking.

I can’t help reflecting how different things are compared to last year. My friend and I tend to like a mixture of planned sightseeing and then doing stuff under our own steam. Being herded around and following a guide with a flag held aloft drives me bat shit crazy, but sometimes in order to get to see the things you want to see in the short time the ship is in port you have to bite the bullet and just put up with it. But last year, oh my GOD I was miserable on the tour days.

It didn’t help that having eaten myself to the brink of disability, walking was painful. I needed to sit down for a rest every few minutes and I actually started to dread getting off the ship. Some days I even chose not to, and I stayed in the spa area all day instead and had food and drinks delivered to my sun lounger the banner of relaxation.

As well as a handful of organised trips, we did lots of the hop-on-hop-off bus tours in the places we visited, but if I’m honest there wasn’t an awful lot of hopping off going on. Seat safely bagged, I was happy to sit there all day. My poor friend. I was such a shit companion. Don’t get me wrong, we did have a great time and I loved being away, in fact it was an awesome trip but man, it was hard work.

Last night we established that all four of the places we’re visiting on our week-long cruise are very easy to navigate on foot, unlike some cruises where your ship docks in some grotty port miles away from anything pretty or interesting. So this year, navigating on foot is exactly what we’re planning to do. We’re going to walk. Well, all except one of the days where I’ve booked an excursion on my own, because my friend didn’t fancy it…it’s a hike, up a mountain in the Fjords to go see a waterfall. Three and a half hours, tough going, some steep inclines…I’m all over it, and I can’t wait.

This year, essential packing will include walking boots and socks, gym gear so I can work out and join some of the exercise classes on board, and whilst of course I’ll enjoy the cuisine I am one hundred percent determined to weigh the same when I get off the ship as I do when I get on. No open season, no all-bets-off mentality – lets face it, when I get back on terra firma the trek will be just five weeks away. I can’t afford to slip, not even a little bit.

But you know what, I’m not worried about it, in fact I’m really looking forward to the challenge of making the holiday fit what I need it to be…after all, we’ve already established that I’m in this for the long game. For the rest of my life I need to find a way to stay in the mindset of healthy, vibrant and disciplined so I’d better get used to it, right? I choose to be that person. I don’t want to be that morbidly obese passenger from last year who held court on her sun lounger because getting off it was too much effort. I could weep for that lady.

I’m going to wring every last drop of enjoyment out of this holiday, and of course that includes some relaxation. I’m tired, and I’m ready to chill my boots. I’ll recline on my sun lounger in a shady spot and read two or three books, and I’ll indulge with a cheeky Pimms or two because that’s what holidays are for…but not before I’ve sweated my cahoonies off in the gym, or walked a good few miles around and about wherever we happen to be. Last year’s lazy lady is one hundred percent gone.

And as for the two formal nights…well, bring on the bling. I can’t wear my trusty evening outfit, you know the one I wore to the Blog Awards..? It’s too big now and I flogged it on eBay along with the rest of my fat-girl duds 🙂

But don’t worry…it just so happens that I’ve indulged myself with one or two new things…needs must, eh?

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Did I Really Miss It?

In the here & now

It’s funny you know, when it dawned on me last week that I was actually missing the sessions down in the Kingdom of Pain as I rested my neck, I did ponder long and hard about whether I was only desperate to go because I’d been told I couldn’t, or whether I did actually miss it. It’s sort of human nature to want what we can’t have, and I’m really really good at that.

Let me give you an example…a couple of weeks ago I was working in London, and about fifteen minutes into the train journey on the way there, the catering manager came over the PA system and apologised for the fact that there were no hot drinks available from the trolley service because the urn was broken. Now, if I tell you that in all the years I’ve spent buzzing up and down the East Coast mainline, I’ve never purchased a single hot drink, you’d rightly assume that this malfunctioning urn wouldn’t exactly put a crimp in my day, right?

Wrong. From the minute those words settled into my ears, all I wanted was a steaming cup of coffee, and I sat and seethed to myself at the prospect of having to go without. As the trolley made its way down the carriage towards me, I thought of all the put-downs I could use if the trolly dolly had the audacity to ask whether I wanted anything…well yes, as it happens. I wanted coffee. But *gritted teeth* I can’t have it, can I? Disappointing…*shakes head* I mean it’s just not good enough. Poor woman was obviously at the mercy of the wonky urn so of course I didn’t say anything, but still I seethed like a mardy child.

Thing is, I didn’t want coffee until someone told me I couldn’t have it. And from there it’s all I wanted. Is it just me, or do you lot do that too? I’ve always been a bit the same, in fact I think it’s one of the reasons that the wheels have come off my attempts to lose weight over and over and over again down the years.

The feeling of wanting what I can’t have has overwhelmed me so many times when I’ve been ‘on a diet’. I’ve found myself becoming utterly pre-occupied with the things I can’t have rather than focusing on the things that I can eat ’till the cows come home, and eventually it’s tipped me over the edge into another dieting fail.

So after missing a week’s worth of sessions and feeling aggrieved that I couldn’t go, the acid test was always going to be how I felt when I went back to my first class last weekend, and I’m happy to report that yes, I actually wanted to be there. Enjoyed being there. I mean don’t get me wrong, I still grunted my way through the dratted kettle bell exercises, and sweated my cahoonies off as I moved from one torture station to the next, but what I’ve come to a genuine appreciation of is the fact that I can now move.

More and more, the difference between my old life and this new active healthy life is clear and present. I feel good, I’m looking better and that big old penny has finally dropped, you know?  The link between cause and effect is very obvious, in fact it’s right under my nose.

I do this, and I get this.

So I’m embracing the cause, as well as the effect. I’m loving the effect, which in turn is actually making the cause more lovable. And it’s a place I never believed I’d get to, which makes it all the more precious. I only stuck at this whole exercise malarkey because of my commitment to do the trek. I only committed to the trek because I knew it would force me to stick to my diet. I pegged my long term goal from all angles and look what happened…it’s working.

My advice to anyone who’s having a wobble would be decide what you want, and go after it with everything you’ve got. It’s worth it, and so are you 🙂

By the way, did I mention that thanks to the awesome support from both you lot and my friends and colleagues I’ve hit my fundraising target…? To all of you who’ve supported me with that, genuinely thank you from the very bottom of my soul. That said, the only thing better than hitting a target is exceeding it…hehehe 🙂

 

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A New Found Respect

In the here & now, , ,

I had such a good day yesterday…I can say with a degree of certainty that any residual pain  would barely qualify as a stiff neck, and even my legs worked okay…pity I couldn’t make the same claim on Monday, holy crap I was stiff after Saturday’s ten mile hike. More so on Monday than Sunday for some weird reason, it’s like they lulled me into a false sense of security before they pulled a big fat ouch out of the bag.

That worries me a bit, to be honest…its only nine weeks and three days until we depart for Cuba, and I’ve got to walk further than I did on Saturday, for five days on the bounce. With the added buggeration factor of heat and bugs…the Asshole voice keeps chipping away in the background as part of his business-as-usual campaign to undermine my confidence and make me doubt myself but he’s not really getting anywhere with it. Most of the time anyway. I’m throwing everything I’ve got at this, and I’m as determined as ever. I can do this.

Anyway, I mentioned that I’d spent a few hours at the hospital last weekend didn’t I..? I’d rocked up after taking advice from the NHS helpline with a serious pain in my neck and no ability to move my head at all, and in order to diagnose the problem they had to check me from head to toe, including all the usual observations.

They tried to take some blood, and I had to pre-warn them that my veins don’t like to give up so much as a drop without a fight. Apparently it’s because I’m fat. So sayeth the doctors anyway. That doctor. He was actually very nice, along with the medical student who was with him. And let’s be honest, he wasn’t wrong, I mean I am fat. If further proof was needed, they then attempted to take my blood pressure, and the cuff was too small…it kept pinging open. They had to go get the fat-girl cuff.

Cringe…I sat there trying to decide whether I had enough energy left to be offended/pissed off/mortified at the indignity of it all, but for once there was no voice in my head encouraging me down the road of self-pity. I suspect I was too focused on getting through the consultation, you know? They’d already told me that I wouldn’t get meds to wipe the pain until they’d ruled out non-muscular related issues, so I was very compliant in the hope that they’d just hurry the fuck up.

I couldn’t help thinking that this time last year I’d have been devastated when the young doctor stepped back into the cubicle with the fat-girl blood pressure cuff…it’s the ER equivalent of an airplane seatbelt extension, offered up to the fat lady by a young version of Doctor McDreamy. This time, I didn’t much care, to be honest – I even joked with my boy about it as I sat huddled in the cubicle trying to see the funny side of anything in order to take my mind off all the hurting.

What struck me was the change that washed over the young Doctor as he took my medical history.  As he went through his list of questions, I started talking to him about how I might have hurt myself – the day before I’d done two exercise classes, and I told him all about trying to get fit…about the circuit training, and the boxing, and the walking and about the trek and the reasons why I was doing it.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment he stopped looking at me as a fat old woman with a face screwed up in pain, and saw instead a strong determined woman who was turning her life inside out to achieve a goal, not to mention risking life and limb in the process. But there was a definite shift in his perception…it was tangible.

As I shuffled in, he probably thought I’d strained myself reaching for the hob-nobs but by the time we left, diagnosed and drugged up to the eyeballs, I felt like I’d earned his respect. He’d clocked the grit and the determination and suddenly it felt like I was forgiven for being fat.

I can’t really call him on it, right? It wasn’t until it dawned on me that I was really going to see this this through that I started to feel respect for myself…I’ve got to tell you though, when you’re used to folk looking at you with anything on a sliding scale from pity to contempt, seeing respect in someone’s eyes when they look at you is very powerful.

I quite like it 🙂

 

 

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