Tag Archives: determination

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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Am I Skinny Yet?

Hmm. I just caught sight of myself in the mirror and I suspect the answer is no. Fuck. Last Christmas, I was heading into the New Year feeling frustrated that over the course of the year I’d only lost about twenty pounds. This time, I’m heading into the New Year having lost and regained the same fucking twenty pounds several times over, and I’ll probably achieve a net result of sweet bugger all as I step over the threshold of 2018.

You could say that 2017 hasn’t quite gone according to plan.

Don’t you always think that the end of the year is a great time for taking stock of where you’re at? Don’t worry, I’m not about to get all maudlin on your ass, I mean I’m in quite a good place as it happens. My bum might still be the size of a small continent but I’m reasonably fit these days and I’m enjoying living my life. My eyes are focused on what’s in front of me, not what’s gone before, and I have a feeling that 2018 is the year I’m going to knock it out of the park.

I survived a buffet yesterday. Not gonna lie, the only green thing on my plate was a cucumber stick and in the spirit of full disclosure there was an enormous dollop of hummus on the end so I can’t use it as a shining beacon of food sobriety.

I also had a piece of quiche, a handful of Doritos and a small bit of cheesecake but all in all I didn’t do too bad. No sausage rolls and no bread. Most importantly I didn’t come home and think fuck it, I’ve blown today already so I may as well eat Chinese food. I chucked the balance of my weekly points into yesterday’s bucket just in case, and moved on.

I’m now function-free right over the holiday season, and although I’m going to buy one or two goodies for Christmas day, both me and my boy are pretty determined to stay true to our respective food plans so I have no plans to fill the cupboards with food fuckery. This will be my third Christmas without cheese balls…who could’ve imagined that might ever happen? I’m amazed.

So what do you reckon about Sunday’s weigh-in? I’m feeling good about the week, and even though I’ve eaten a bunch of fat-girl food I’ve stayed within points. My money’s on a one pound loss, although I was going for three. Would you care to make a small wager…?

Listen guys, whatever you’re up to over the next few days I wish you all the love in the world and I hope you have an awesome Christmas. Good luck with your respective food plans and I hope Santa is kind. I’m sorry for being an imperfect role model and spending much of this year fannying about eating the wrong stuff. Often in industrial quantities, to my shame. I’ll do better next year, I promise. Most of all, thank you for the big love and massive support…I feel you behind me with every step, and you’re amazing.

I’ll update the Shitbird Chronicles as usual on Sunday, and I’ll be back with another post next Wednesday. I’m totally praying that the Gods of Skinny find a way to keep me on this straight and narrow path between now and then 🙂


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Something Of An Epiphany

I can’t go on like I have been, right? I know, and you all know that something had to change. I’d lost it. That precious terra firma in the sweet spot that I was so attached to all of a sudden felt like shifting sand under my feet. I was struggling to even stand up straight, never mind pushing ahead with my plans to get skinny. And I’ve been battling with myself every day to the point where I’m just pissed off with it all.

That’s not right, is it? I mean, I’m used to a bit of internal dialogue with the Asshole voice, after all both of us have co-habited inside my head for years. But there have been long periods of time over the course of this journey where I’ve been properly in control, with just an occasional spat. I saw a steady weight loss and I was broadly okay because I can do it when my head falls in line with the rhythm of losing weight.

Towards the end of last year after I came home from the trek I lost the plot completely, and had a wild food-fest over the run up to Christmas. I pulled it back in January and this year was going pretty well, right up until August when I lost my God mum. Since then it’s been rocky to say the least. But I realised something over the weekend.

Somehow, all the shit I’ve waded through this year has tilted my thinking, and my focus has shifted away from all the possibilities of a skinny life and become fixated on the wrong thing. I’ve been spending way too much time feeling resentful about all the things I can’t have instead of feeling excited about what’s within touching distance. There’s no fucking wonder I’m struggling is there? I’m just one big ball of resentment and the more my head says you can’t have [whatever it is], the more I dig my heels in and cheat my way to having it anyway.

That’s how come I’ve managed to welcome thirty or so pounds back into my pants.

What I should be doing is focusing my energy on achieving my goals, which haven’t changed. I want that skinny life, filled with all those lovely clothes and just the one chin. I want my square knees back, and an arse that doesn’t feel like a tsunami going off in my pants whenever I take a step. Thinking about the possibilities of that life is what glued my feet to the sweet spot in the early days, but I’ve lost my way of late.

I’ve also lost sight of how me being positive and believing I can do it can help and inspire the people around me to do it too. My friend Nic is a case in point…if you follow her Shitbird page you’ll see she’s been ping-ponging all over the place just like I have. We sat and discussed it on Saturday over a coffee. And a dirty great cream scone. We didn’t have our eyes on the delights of a skinny life, we were too distracted by the contents of the cake cabinet. The thing is, we can inspire each other to great things one minute, and willingly, gleefully dive headlong into food fuckery the next.

Well, no more. We made a pact, even as we were wiping the crumbs from our respective chops…I promised not to lead her astray any more and she did the same. Yesterday was day one reboot for both of us and as we checked in with each other last night, it was holding. She’s relying on me, and I’m relying on her. It’s a big responsibility, right? If I don’t cheat, she can’t either. And vice versa. It’s a full on pinky promise.

That, combined with my shift of focus away from all the things I can’t have and back to the size of the prize was something of an epiphany…it’s a conscious step and let’s hope it’s the game-changer we both need.

Who else is in?



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Two Days And Counting

So I’m two days into my sugar divorce and I’m doing okay. I’ve only had one slip up and that was sort of an accident. Well I’m saying an accident, actually it was more of a reflex action. Someone was passing a tub of chocolate-covered hob nob marshmallows from table to table in a training course I was helping to run yesterday. I didn’t notice it heading towards me, but when the tub came at me from the left, I shoved one in my mouth and passed it to my right.

My arm responded to that tub of hob-nob chocolate in the same way me knee would’ve responded to a reflex hammer…there was bugger-all thought involved whatsoever on my part.

Yes, I know. I sat with that hob-nob marshmallow on my tongue and thought Shit! I’m not supposed to be eating this…

I didn’t feel it was appropriate to spit the damned thing out again, I mean that would make me a weirdo, right? So I made the most of my accidental snack, and sucked it until I only had one little oat left in the middle of my tongue. Which I appreciate still makes me a tiny bit weird, I mean who sucks a marshmallow..? The important thing is, I didn’t compound the situation by eating a bunch more of them and it only cost me thirty three calories.

I’d love to claim full credit for resisting the temptation to go back for more, but actually there were none left once everyone had pitched in. What do you mean, did I look? You fucking know I did. But, even with the taste of chocolate on my tongue I didn’t go find something else instead when I realised the tub was empty and I could have, because there was a shop and cafe dead opposite where we were working.

I don’t think that one indiscretion means I have to re-set the dial. I’ve got fifty six hours and one cock-up under my belt but I don’t feel any worse for having eaten it, and I’ve definitely got less sugar running through my veins than I did two days ago. Seriously, I’m as grouchy as it’s possible to be without actually ripping someone’s face off. Maybe I should be duct-taped to the bed with someone standing guard as I go cold turkey but so far, with the exception of that one incident it’s largely been uneventful. I’m coping, even if my turkey is still only lukewarm.

I did sack off the idea of going swimming last night, so I’m not entirely behaving like a skinny girl. The length swim last night was 9pm-10pm and by that time I’d been in pyjamas for three hours and I seriously couldn’t be arsed. My boy raised an eyebrow and commented that before the holiday I would’ve gone without thinking and he’s right, so there’s definitely still work to do on shifting the holiday mindset.

The fact that he noticed – and commented – has closed off my option of bumming for two days in a row though, so I’ll definitely be in the pool tonight… 🙂

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Forward Is Forward, Right?

You know, I wish I’d started recording my weight from day dot of being on this journey. It’s useful to be able to look back and compare where I am now to where I was at a given point in time. I used to reflect on my progress quite easily using the Weight Watchers’ app, but when I broke up with smart points and defected to calories, I think Weight Watchers binned all my data before I’d even shut the door. I tried to access it yesterday but they were having none of it.

I know when I started in August 2015 I was north of 320lbs. I did really well for a few months, but I definitely ran out of steam and fannied around quite a bit towards the back end of 2016, after I’d completed the trek. Honestly, this journey overall has been about as straight as a dog’s hind leg.

I can’t help feeling frustrated when I think about the way I’ve matched every two steps forward with one step backwards. I mean for fuck’s sake…I know roughly where I was on the scale when I left for Cuba this time last year, and at best I’m net 7lbs down from what I was then. I’ve not exactly brought my ‘A’ game over the last 12 months, have I?

Capturing a picture of my conversation with the scale every week from the beginning of this year has been one of the best ideas ever, because now I can look back and use it as a tool to spur me on. I’ve got a holiday coming up in a few weeks and right now, despite a couple of wobbles I actually weigh the same as I did when I got back from Italy in June. I haven’t gone backwards.

And better than that, I’m 15lbs lighter than I was when we cruised around the Middle East in February. By the time we set off again in a month’s time I’m planning to be a few pounds lighter still, and that will be my skinniest holiday in years.

I’d be the first one to admit that my progress hasn’t been especially fast. Says the Queen of understatement…seven pounds off over the last twelve months is fairly shit by anybody’s standards, right? Half a pound a month as an average, I mean it’s a joke really. However. It’s still seven pounds in the right direction. And I’ll take that.

So it’s not quick. Who cares? It’s happening. And I’m doing something I’ve never been able to do before. Of course, I’ve lost weight in the past and sometimes I’ve lost the weight quickly. Lots of weight. But I’ve never kept a diet going long enough for it to be considered a lifestyle change. I’ve never forced myself to exercise consistently when both my mind and body said no, and I’ve certainly never fallen down over and over again, whilst somehow finding the will to get back up as many times as it takes to just keep on going.

This time, I’ve done all of those things. I’m still doing them and that’s why I know that this time is for keeps, because there’s nothing that will stop these feet from carrying me all the way to Skinny Town.

It just might take a while, is all… 🙂

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