All posts by Dee

Painting The Sky Purple

In the here & now, ,

So I’ve been doing my Weight Watchers thing for a week today, and you know what, it’s going okay. Better than okay actually, I haven’t stepped a toe out of line. I feel like I’m getting away with murder though…I’ve eaten some lovely healthy meals, but over the last week I’ve also managed to fit in a large cream scone, three small pots of Haagen Dazs and a family bag of galaxy counters and still gone to bed with points on the table most days.

Technically I’m following the flex plan to the letter, but I’m being really fucking creative with the way I’m spending my food budget. I’m sure the clever folk who built this new programme must have looked at case studies of people like me, who colour inside the lines but use the wrong coloured crayons. I think my sky is purple right now.

When they allocate your daily and weekly points they probably have a reasonable expectation that what, maybe 80% of  points will be spent on healthy food with the odd snack thrown in? I’m filling up on zero points food and hitting snacksville with a pocket full of points after sundown because it doesn’t say anywhere that I can’t…

I’ll feel smug right up to the point I don’t lose anything, right?

It’s a bit like Charlie-dog being evicted from my lap when I’m eating and told to go lie in his bed. Technically he does as he’s told, because a quarter of one paw in the bed is still in the bed, right? The rest of him might be stretched out in a masterclass of bed-avoidance with his eyes locked and loaded onto my dinner plate, but to all intents and purposes he’d have a very valid argument to say he’s followed the brief.

That’s exactly like me with my food plan. I’m determined not to go over my points, and I haven’t. Quite the opposite actually, most days I don’t need them all. I’m also determined to eat well, and I have been. I’ve been rooting out zero point foods like a pig rooting out truffles, and making the most of them. Banana pancakes with hot berries and yoghurt for breakfast…cooled garlic roasted vegetables with chicken for lunch…only a handful of points gone by suppertime, but then whoop whoop bring on the points-fest.

Somewhere, in the adult part of my brain I know I don’t quite have the balance right between good stuff and naughty stuff but I’m still justifying it to myself over and over on the basis that I’m following the rules. LEAVE ME ALONE!!! I’m bloody behaving myself and still it’s not good enough!!!

I think maybe I’m pushing the boundaries to see how far I can go over the holidays, I mean let’s be honest, this is without doubt the hardest two weeks of the year for anyone on a fucking diet. I just need to stay in rapport with my food plan and refuse to listen to any lobbying from the Asshole Voice, who will sooner or later engineer a situation which tries to force me into breaking my cracking run of good days.

He’s got no chance of doing that if I don’t feel like I’m on a diet, you know? And right now I don’t. If I’ve gone down a notch or two on the Shitbird Scale by Sunday, that’ll be my Christmas present to myself right there.

Well, that and the handbag I might have accidentally bought to send to Santa… 🙂

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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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Fifty Years’ Experience

In the here & now, ,

Well look  at me, sashaying into day three of my latest new beginning with a smile on my face. I’m officially feeling one hundred percent in control of my food plan, dare I even say enjoying it? I’ve got to be honest, going back to Weight Watchers feels a bit like pulling on a pair of my oldest most comfortable slippers, you know? It’s familiar, even though it’s different.

It’s simple. I prefer points over calories. Don’t get me wrong, spending a few months diligently counting every calorie – ok *looks sheepish* you got me, maybe not every calorie – has been a really valuable exercise, in that even though some foods don’t contain points I have a heightened awareness of what’s in stuff. Just because they have a zero points value doesn’t mean my arse will shrink at warp speed if I throw portion control to the wind. I’m not actually eating air, and I get that now. That was the My Fitness Pal lesson, and it needed to be learned.

Wednesday was my first proper day on the new flexi plan, and if it hadn’t been for that pesky gin advent calendar seducing me as I walked past with the promise of chocolate and cherry gin behind door number twelve I would’ve actually carried some of Wednesday’s points over to Thursday. For a girl who many moons ago mastered the technique of wringing every single food opportunity out of every single day, that feels more than a tiny bit impressive. I had points left but I wasn’t bothered about going to find something to spend them on. The end.

Well, except for the miniature gin, as things worked out. But I am starting today with two points carried over from yesterday…just sayin’.

However. Y’all know as well as I do that I’ve been here before. Too many times to count, right? I’ve got fifty fucking years’ experience of being fat and I’m about as far from being an expert on weight-loss as it’s possible to get. What I do know, is that the first few days of a new beginning go one of two ways. Either, the fire in my belly will carry me along until the new regime is established and the Asshole voice doesn’t even try to de-rail me, or he’ll be at my heels and in my head from one minute after midnight on day one.

This time I’m basking in his absolute radio silence. It feels different from the last few new beginnings. It’s like someone’s kidnapped him. He didn’t try and talk me into a mince pie when they were freely available in the office. The box of Thornton’s chocolates I brought home earlier this week to give to a friend are sitting untouched on the kitchen table and he hasn’t done anything twattish like circulate a memo round my head every five minutes suggesting I could open them for myself and buy her another box later.

I’m making the most of this honeymoon period and I’m going to use it as an opportunity to settle into my new food plan. We’re within spitting distance of Christmas, so the next couple of weeks are going to be a bit bumpy…I know that and I’m ready for it. I need to focus on the fact that my skinny life is waiting for me in 2018 and it’s about fucking time I made it happen having spent the last year treading water.

I’ve got a good feeling about this folks…it’s game on 🙂

 

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Too Much Information..?

In the here & now, ,

I can’t begin to tell you how many poo stories I’ve listened to over the last day or so, I mean seriously, there have been lots. It seems I’m not the only one amongst our band of merry men who’s found themselves locked in dispute with their own pipes. And the thing is, I always forget how many people that I actually know in my real life who read the blog.

It’s one thing when you realise your lack of filter has left people around the world wondering whether or not you’ve managed to open your purse, but it’s something else entirely when you pass someone in the corridor at work and they pull a face and say anything yet..? 

One of my friends in the office pressed a maximum strength senocot pill into my hands and suggested it might help. I carried it home with the same care I might have reserved for a stick of dynamite, having (wisely I thought) decided against road-testing it before I was safely home and within sprinting distance of the bathroom. I mean it hadn’t just been a day or two, and I was worried that wouldn’t end well at all.

I’m very pleased to announce that nature took its course before said pill was swallowed, much to my blessed relief. It felt like a Lion King moment, I mean I appreciate I’m not exactly holding anything aloft or introducing the fruit of my loins to the nation but metaphorically speaking I’m sure you’ll all sleep easier in your beds tonight knowing my agony is over. And over, and over, and over as it happens.

It’s only the second time in my life that I’ve suffered this badly. The first time was worse actually. I was in the Maldives with my best friend, and without going into sordid detail my body was on lockdown then in the same way that it has been this week. I can only liken that experience to a breach birth, and due to the dodgy plumbing on the tiny island and my utter mortification at not being able to make the offending article go away after upwards of a hundred flushes, I ended up wrapping it in a carrier bag and cycling up to the big industrial waste bins behind the kitchens with a suspicious baguette-shaped parcel in the basket on the front of my hired bicycle.

Fuck, I’ve done it again haven’t I? No filter. Still, you can’t beat a good poo story between friends, right?

So anyway, things are looking up. I had another false start yesterday on account of some Thornton’s chocolates and a pub lunch however I’m now full subscribed to Weight Watchers again, and I’ve done my food shop. I sat and read every scrap of information about the new flex programme last night as I was oven-roasting some vegetables to take to work for lunch today, along with a chicken breast. My porridge oats are primed for breakfast, and a portion – not a punnet – of grapes is all bagged up for my mid-morning snack.

I’ve got this. My 2L water bottle is full and completes the hat-trick. I feel quite excited, although I recognise that I’ve been here before. That doesn’t really matter though, does it? All that matters is that I’m here now 🙂

 

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Woman Vs Nature: The Stand-Off

In the here & now, ,

So, my apologies to those of you who diligently follow the Shitbird chronicles on a Sunday, all our updates were late yesterday and it was my fault. Kayleigh and Nic both weighed in first thing, and sent me their pictures, but I buggered the system up by insisting that I couldn’t possibly get weighed until I’d had a poo.

Except it didn’t happen. It’s been a few days to be honest, and I feel like crap if you’ll pardon the pun. Really sluggish and bloated, you know? It’s my own fault, my menu choices continue with one foot in sensible and the other in la-la-la not listening…and I know I’m not drinking enough water.

If you’re squeamish about poo stories you might want to give this post a wide berth. I did try my very best, first thing yesterday. I sat and contemplated life for a good half an hour but nice as it was to shut myself in the bathroom with just Charlie-dog for company (he refuses to wait outside and likes to jump in the bath and drink from the tap whilst I’m otherwise engaged) it was a fruitless exercise.

I tried drinking three coffees in quick succession – that normally helps. I was wired, but still nothing. I ate a decent breakfast, on the basis that if everything’s already backed up, more food coming in might result in a bit of exit action, right? Nope.

So then I figured I’d practise a bit of reverse psychology with my own nether regions. Instead of trying everything in my repertoire to persuade my body to give up…well, you know, I made an heroic attempt to ignore the fact that it needed to. Pottered around with everything clenched and refused to try. Well that backfired a bit because even the urge went away and the net result was no news to report.

So I had to hop aboard the Shitbird Scale last night with what feels like a belly full of concrete. Under the circumstances, I was relieved at only a pound and a half on. I don’t think it’s really on, as such…for whatever reason, I think my body’s holding onto everything  I’ve eaten since probably last Wednesday or Thursday. But be fair, that’s more than a bit.

I had a great weekend with my friends, despite having to cut our girly time short by a day on account of the snow which Mother Nature kindly dumped on the doorstep of where we were staying. Foxy Lodge is in the middle of nowhere, and watching the news today it was definitely the right decision to head home, we would’ve been stranded there until at least midweek otherwise.

Whilst we were away I ate good stuff and naughty stuff. We had cocktails at breakfast time on Friday, followed by lots of prosecco in the hot tub surrounded by snow but there was really only one day of utter carnage on account of us coming home earlier than planned. It could’ve been worse. And I had an absolute ball, relaxing and chilling out with my besties and laughing my ass off. It’s done me the world of good and you know what, at the end of the day that’s what matters.

I’ve decided to go back to Weight Watchers…they’ve brought a new plan out and everyone’s raving about it. I often find trying something new helps me tune out the asshole voice when he’s spending way too much time in the driving seat. In the past, switching it up has really helped me to re-focus. Lord only knows I need to. I didn’t get my shit together yesterday, so I’m starting it today.

Two weeks before Christmas. Yeah, I know…that’s what I thought too. But I refuse to hand over the next two weeks to food fuckery without a fight, you know? I could take seven pounds off before the holidays with a strong wind behind me and if it’s not coming off, it’s likely to be going on, and I’m not sitting back and letting that happen. I can’t.

For those of you who follow Weight Watchers I’d be interested to know what you think of the new freestyle programme…? 🙂

 

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