All posts by Dee

Sorry I’m Late!

Oh my Looooooord it’s good to see you guys! A million thank yous for your patience…I’m just about there by the skin of my teeth for a Monday post…I’d almost forgotten how.

So, for those of you who don’t follow me on Facebook, and might be thinking I somehow fell off the edge of the world in a careless moment, I had an accident and shattered the screen of my laptop, which meant that I couldn’t publish anything. If I could get into WordPress and see the screen of my phone well enough to try and compose a blog post I might have been able to work around it but I couldn’t get the formatting right, the words kept disappearing and in any event, the insurance company said it wouldn’t take very long.

Five days, is what they said. Five days to assess the damage and then five days to repair it.  Five days max. Except it was three days before they even collected it, then a weekend happened. I should’ve known at that point it wasn’t going to run smoothly, you know? I chased twice and after exactly five more days they told me yes, the screen was definitely damaged. No shit, Sherlock…that would account for the big white hectare of nothingness between the left and the right edge then, right?

Just five more days Mrs Tipton, we’ll repair it and you’ll have it back…except five days later some fucking ejit had forgotten to get an authorisation code to go ahead with the repair so it was still sitting on a bench somewhere with a shattered screen. You can probably take your best guess at how pissed off I was, on a scale of one to ten.

To make amends, they offered me a new laptop instead of a repair, which I accepted, with a slightly less sour face. It finally came last Thursday, and I was too giddy for words until I remembered that new ones don’t come pre-loaded with the software that I need and I still couldn’t fucking write.

I had a code somewhere to load the software that I’d bought when I changed my laptop a couple of years ago, but it had disappeared into that safe place black hole along with all the other things I can never put my hands on when I really need them. Long story short, I ended up having to buy it again. It took me hours of angst trying to download and install it because the instructions were not written in ABC language, in fact it might as well have been written in Swahili for all the sense it made to me. But it’s done now, I finally figured it out, and I’m IN.

God it’s so good to be back!! My fingers are tingling and I’m in my happy place.

I’m also in a world of fat. I know. I’d love to say that in my three wordless weeks I’ve been focusing on myself, spending time in the gym and existing on a diet of dust with a side of fresh air, and I’m looking buff.

Yeah, cos that was always going to happen, right?

I’ve been completely under the wheels. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’ve been busy…we all know the devil makes work for idle hands and all. Work has been a little crazy, I’ve started a new business venture which is going better than I might have hoped and I’ve generally tried hard to fill the space I normally reserve for chatting to you guys, but in between all that it’s been like feeding time at the fucking zoo.

I daren’t face the Shitbird…haven’t been near it. I’ve stacked a family sized bag of toilet rolls on top of it actually, so it’s buried out of sight. I can feel my arse following me as I walk around, I mean it’s tragic but even now my head isn’t playing ball. I’m a mess. I haven’t been swimming since the last time we spoke, and the last time we spoke I hadn’t been swimming since…well, it might even be before Christmas.

What the hell happened?

I’m hoping that this is my cue to get my shit together. Now I’m back in that place where I have to be accountable, I mean. It’s like my enforced hiatus from tipping words onto the page signalled a free-for-all in the who gives a shit stakes but I’m back, and I have to make it count…I can’t go on like this with the Asshole steering the ship can I?

I don’t feel ready, that’s the thing. Oh, I’m ready not to be this fat. I just don’t feel ready to stop power eating and I’m really scared that I’m not going to be able to.

Suggestions welcome…  🙂

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My Leaky Toolbox

I can’t believe the reaction that Monday’s post drew from you lot – it’s a while since my mailbox has groaned under so many ‘me too’ emails. And although it made me feel less isolated, it also forced me to really reflect on how flimsy our toolboxes are when it comes to keeping a hold of the things that could really help us along the route to Skinny Town.

If I’d bought a toolbox like this from home depot, I’d be standing in front of the customer service desk right now, complaining about how fucking useless it was, and how easily holes opened up and allowed stuff to fall out of the bottom. 

I’ve been writing this blog for almost two and a half years, right? And we’ve talked about all sorts of stuff. We’ve laughed a fair bit, we’ve celebrated successes and we’ve commiserated with each other when the wheels have come off, but mostly we’ve picked over the bones of stuff and pulled some proper golden nuggets of learning out of the shit we’ve waded through. The plan has always been to keep hold of those lessons and use them to drive us forward until we look for all the world like we’ve never met a single doughnut in the whole of our skinny lives.

What I’d really like to know, is where have all those lessons gone? It’s like we unwrapped them, exclaimed over them, wondered why it had taken a lifetime to switch the light bulb on, and then we tucked them away in the toolbox for future reference, safe in the knowledge that we’d never forget that new thing that was going to help us forever, now we knew about it. I can only speak for myself, but in an un guarded moment when my back was turned most of the things I’ve learned have fallen out of the bottom of my fucking useless leaky toolbox and nobody’s seen them since.

One of you even suggested to me a couple of weeks ago that I go back and read some of my early blog posts where I seemed to be switching on light bulbs all over the place, I mean my life was floodlit for months. I was flying, with the strong wind of all this learning behind me. I can’t really pinpoint the moment where my progress stalled and then started going backwards, but somehow I’ve ended up scrabbling around in the dark again, hoping against hope that I’ll find my way back. On reflection, I think I probably should re-trace my steps, I mean it’s the sensible thing to do isn’t it when you’re trying to find something precious that you’ve lost.

Shit. There’s more than five hundred blog posts and close to half a million words to trawl through, I mean that’s a bit daunting, right? It might take a while. And what if I forget them all over again?

I’ll tell you what – why don’t I make a new page, where I can call out the blog posts which have helped me the most as I rediscover them? I could call it the Skinny Lessons page, and as I’m working my way through my back-catalogue looking for inspiration, I could pull out some links to the ones which have switched on the brightest floodlights in my head. Y’all could do the same if you like, and signpost the ones that’ve helped you…having a go to page when we need propping up might at least solve the problem of that leaky toolbox if nothing else, right?

I’ll get on it this weekend when I have a little more time.

And yes, in case you’re wondering…I’m still on the naughty step 🙁

 

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The Queen Of Empty Promises

I actually contemplated taking a picture of the Shitbird scale yesterday morning without me standing on it, sort of like a shitbird selfie. In the end, Wednesday’s fall from grace turned into a five day free-for-all, and yesterday was going to be the day it all came good, except it didn’t.

The last thing I wanted to see was a shitty number staring back at me as I struggled with everything else, so I ignored the Shitbird and refused to make eye contact. It was after 11pm before I finally accepted that you lot would likely pelt me with rotten fruit if I tried to wriggle out of being accountable so there we are then, over five pounds in the wrong direction when I finally hopped aboard. Fuck.

I deserve it, to be fair. I’ve been ridiculous. Again. And I don’t know what to tell you. It’s weird you know, more than once since I started writing the blog, some of you have mentioned that other weight-related blogs you’ve followed have disappeared like a fart on a breeze as soon as the person writing it fell off the wagon and when their diet fell by the wayside, so did their writing. I’ve even noticed it myself, you know? There have been two or three people whose journey I’d become invested in, whose posts have become so infrequent as to be virtually non existent. And that’s a real shame, I mean personally speaking – and from a purely selfish perspective – I need you lot more than ever when I’m under the wheels.

It is more than a little bit embarrassing though. I mean, here am I writing a weight loss blog and not losing any fucking weight. More than that, I keep writing about how determined I am and how it’s all going to be great from here on in because this time I’m going to do it except I never fucking get it done. I’m the Queen of empty promises, and that sucks.

For the first time this weekend I kind of understood the reluctance to put words down on the page, but I don’t think it was because I didn’t have anything to say…you know me, I always have words even if I’m just talking shite. The only way I can describe it is it’s like I was rebelling against talking to you lot because you’re all part of my journey, and since me and the diet weren’t even on fucking speaking terms I didn’t want to engage at all. I didn’t log into the blog after I posted on Friday until I was forced to record the shitbird number last night. And that never happens.

I come in here every day, even if it’s not a day where I’m writing. I check out who’s passed through, I respond to my messages, I approve and reply to comments and weed out the trolls and the spam. It’s my safe and happy place and it’s become a big part of my life. But this weekend I just dissed it completely. Messages went unanswered, which is just rude, and if you’ve taken the time to write to me and I haven’t answered you yet I’m really sorry…I will eventually, of course I will. But I’ve been a weird version of myself just because…well, it all feels very fucked up at the moment and I don’t know why.

Answers on a postcard please..? I’m not in control.

However. Today’s a new day, right? Deep breath and start again 🙂

 

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My Own Worst Enemy

I need to manage your expectations ahead of Sunday’s weigh-in, because I had a major wobble on Wednesday where the whole sugar free living thing is concerned. I think, think, I might have just about stayed within points but since I was too busy diving into a bag of chocolate covered peanuts swiftly followed by a piece of lemon flapjack to scan the barcode and enter the correct points value into my app, I can only guess at the collateral damage that my snaccident and the chaos that followed may have inflicted on my week.

Shit, shit, SHIT. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I only popped my head around the door of our reception desk in the office to pass the time of day with the lady who juggles all our visitors, but I found her setting up the freshly delivered charity sweets box, and thoughts of a pleasant five minutes chat were swiftly overtaken by the need to rugby-tackle her out of the way so I could have a good root through the box to see what was in there. I was only going to look

I arrived back at my desk with the offending bag of chocolate-covered peanuts and set off a tsunami of colleagues who also wanted in on the action. My desk buddy, who is on a perpetual diet like me disappeared and came back with chocolate-covered honeycomb, and the next thing I knew I was halfway down a cup of tea, accessorised with the lemon flapjack, which had come a close second to the chocolate covered peanuts when my hand had been hovering over the box.

So, like a fucking ejit, I’ve gone and unleashed the beast haven’t I..? Since the incident on Wednesday the Asshole voice is excelling himself at trying to lead me into temptation. You’ve spoiled the week now. Just have a few days off and re-set on Sunday. You’re going out for dinner  with friends on Saturday night and you don’t want to be fretting about the fact that you’ve got no points saved up so you’re fucked anyway, and they probably don’t have dust on the menu…

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not moaning, right? I’m not making excuses or trying to absolve myself of any responsibility for the fuck-up, I’m just providing the commentary to the way shit goes down in my head. On Wednesday, I got up from my desk and walked down the corridor to the bathroom and my day was solid. I’d eaten a carefully pointed breakfast, a carefully prepared lunch, and all was well. Five minutes later I had my nose in the chocolate peanuts. It’s like some fucking primal instinct ripped everything out of the well-oiled circuit board in my head and hotwired a snack attack.

I  often think that dealing with an enemy would be so much easier if it wasn’t myself. I’m my own worst enemy because this shit comes from inside, you know? I’ve got the logical thought processes and the food planning down pat. I know what I’m doing and I make good choices based on all the things I know and understand, but then randomly, out of nowhere…well, shit happens.

Work in progress…we just keep plodding on 🙂

 

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One Person, Two Mindsets

So I’m two days post-stair machine and I’m pleased to say my bum cheeks are recovering nicely. I even managed to get up from my desk yesterday and walk across the office without looking like I’d just got off a horse. I wouldn’t have believed that five minutes on that thing could’ve had such an effect but clearly it worked something.

My plan was to go back last night for another session in the gym followed by a swim, but it took me almost two hours to get home from work because it was snowing a blizzard, and by the time I got in my motivation had waned a little. My boy had cooked supper, so I thought you know, maybe I’ll just have a light bite and sit down for half an hour before I go back out…hmm. Big mistake, right?

Two hours later (by this time in PJs) I acknowledged that it wasn’t going to happen. I’m not convinced I would’ve got my car off the drive anyway to be fair, the snow was still coming down, in fact I may well end up working from home today. If that happens, I’ll walk up to the pool at lunchtime and have my swim then instead. I much prefer that to turning out in the evening after a long day at work, especially in this shitty weather.

I’m struggling a bit this week, I’ve got to be honest. I’m good, I mean I haven’t over-eaten and I’m doing okay on the no sugar front, but I just want to fucking eat till my eyes pop out. I took lunch to work with me yesterday, along with a big bag of cherries, but the cherries didn’t even make it past the morning commute. I was clock-watching from around ten thirty and counting the minutes until I could reasonably eat lunch and then all afternoon I was preoccupied with what I might eat for supper.

It’ll pass, I know it will but it’s different to last week when it was all effortless. This week it’s anything but.

Don’t you think it’s really bloody annoying the way that happens? I’m the same person, in the same body as last week with the same ambition to climb out of this fat suit, except last week I breezed through the week without dwelling once on the things I couldn’t have. It was a textbook week. Yet here I am now, feeling pissed off because I’ve got to count points when all I really want to do is rip up the rule book and eat whatever the fuck I want until the end of time.

One person, two mindsets, depending on which way the wind is blowing. I can’t think of a single other example where my thinking is so fickle. Why is that? I’m fine one minute and I’m struggling the next. Then I’m fine again. Then I’m not. I often meet myself coming back and there’s no wonder I sometimes feel like a borderline basket case.

It’ll pass. Keep the faith, and just hang tough. We can do this together 🙂

 

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