Friday, 26 September 2014

Food for thought

 I’m always wary of referring to anything as ‘ironic’ after poor Alanis Morrisette had scorn heaped upon her for not understanding exactly what irony is.  Which is apparently not raaaaiiiiinnnn on your wedding day.  Tsk.

Having said that, there’s some mischievous entity at work in my life at present.  I have started on the injections.  Good news: really not painful.  Bad news: make me feel sick as a dog.  Well, we’ll come to that unfortunate analogy later.  But pretty much nauseous all day.  These are, I hope, side effects that should last no longer than 2-3 weeks but on day 4 that seems a long way off.  As my mother said brightly ‘well, it’s not so bad if it makes you lose weight’.  You can see where I get a twisted view of food from, right?  But no, this is not how it’s supposed to achieve that aim.  I really don’t want to feel so sick I can barely eat until I’m a size 12 (or whatever).  Even if that were possible.  And here comes the irony bit (or whatevs): the only food I can eat is plain and carby.  The advice is even to eat plain carbs if you feel sick.  Carbs are not a great choice for a diabetic (and this is first and foremost a drug for diabetes).  Last night I ate 6 skinny fries from my colleague’s plate for dinner; lunch today is looking like Ritz crackers.  Hmm.  What is a carb-free alternative?  Nausea and chicken breast do not work well together.

Still, after a weekend away, it’s good to have ricocheted to the other end of the spectrum.  Actually it wasn’t too bad in terms of outright gluttony but did cause a 2lb weight gain.  I think.  Having made the momentous move to get back onto Scales of Doom, I really do need to record it somewhere.  The previous week I lost 2.5lbs.  I would hope the weekend gain is long gone after several days of barely eating.  Not very sustainable in the long term, I continue to avow.

The weekend was nice.  It’s just...  Well, we’re going through a rough patch.  Not with each other but with family stuff.  The most serious of which is that my FIL is, to put it bluntly, dying.  The cancer he fought off 4 years ago is back and brought a mate this time.  They’d started treatment for the first tumour (or second I suppose) before they found the other.  The treatment made him feel absolutely terrible and he didn’t want any more; the second tumour made that academic in any case.  He’s at home now and it won’t be long.  He’s a lovely and sweet man and I will be very sorry to lose him which is slightly subsumed by my concern for my husband and how he must be feeling.  He’s been characteristically stoic and brave but has moments where the grief just erupts, understandably.  I hurt to see him so hurt.

And to ice that particular cake, we come back to the ‘sick as a dog ‘analogy.  One of my mother’s Labs has just had to be put down (yes, whilst we were away).  From nowhere SHE got tumours and within 2 days there was nothing else to do.  My mother is distraught and I’m very upset – both from hearing her sobbing and from missing our very sweetest dog myself.

Finally, I visited my grandparents’ grave on the way back from Devon and put some flowers down.  I still miss my grandmother terribly and that was yet another unpleasant reminder of loss.


P and I are agreed that the only thing you can do is wring every moment of pleasure from life.  Balancing hedonism with dieting is not an easy task – well, factoring in 24 hour nausea does balance it a bit, the food and drink part of hedonism seeming unattractive at the moment.  But it’s something to think on.  We’re planning holidays.  Next year.  At the moment we're living from moment to moment, waiting for bad news.

Wednesday, 10 September 2014

Feeling needled

My extremely sterotypical mad prof has prescribed me a diabetic drug which should/could help me lose weight.  The fact that I AM diabetic is incidental as they think I'm too thin to fit the criteria for it on the NHS.  I bet I'm not actually......  Yep, totally not too thin.  Anyway, I have to pay for it privately - the idea is to try it for a few months and then if it makes a difference, use that as ammunition with my GP.  Not sure it will work since this is the practice that wouldn't give me antibiotics after I'd had sinusitis for 2 months and was weeping with the pain.  They seem to get off on saying 'no'.  But there's no point in worrying about that until I find out if it works.

One immediate flaw with this is that I have to, gulp, inject.  Into my stomach (or thighs).  I don't think they've come up with a needle long enough to penetrate the flab but I had my lesson today (no actual stomach was bared) and I start after a long weekend the weekend after next.  On the basis that it can make you feel sick initially and I don't want to waste that time feeling sick.

And of course, my body's stubborn refusal to drop any weight.

Actually I have just gone to weigh myself for the first time in - oh, some time.  I saw what she wrote in kilos on my form and in trying to work out my BMI (this is the criteria), I thought I must have seen it wrongly.  Or worked it out wrongly.  Or something where it was wrong.  But it's not.  Admittedly this is at the end of the day but I am a stone over my heaviest pre Lighter Life weight.  I can't quite believe it.  That's almost 5 stone heavier than my lightest weight, 2-3 stone heavier then when I got married and heavier than I've ever been.  I'm so shocked and upset I'm actually shaking.  If I'd eaten junk for the last year - and lots of it - I'd understand it.  I haven't.  My usual daily diet is yoghurt and fruit with 2tsp of nuts for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and soup or fish and veg for dinner.  Fruit for snacking and a coffee a day.  Where am I going wrong?

No wonder I can't climb stairs any more without gasping for breath.  I guess the self-loathing will help me to jab the needle in.

The teeny-tiny silver lining is that she thought my BMI wasn't high enough: "I can see from looking at you".  It's way, way high enough.

Monday, 1 September 2014

Checking in

Okay, hands up, I used to run a sneaky blog post off at work.  Believe me they got more than their lb of flesh (regrettably not literally).  But since the new job, I haven't been doing this and blogging has got a lot harder.

The new job btw is going well.  I'd forgotten what it felt like to have people want my advice, listen to it, follow it and appreciate it (professionally speaking) - and it's so liberating!  My work confidence is returning and I cannot work out why I stayed in that awful place for so long.  People continue to leave there in droves btw...

Also, I feel like I'm not achieving anything with the dieting.  I'm sorely tempted to try SW as Linz is doing so AMAZINGLY, brilliantly well.  But... well, it's all the 'eat 5 Muller lites a day' thing.  I don't want to eat chemical rubbish (although I DO want to be slim.  Or slimmer).  I guess I'd try the 'Red Days' as I don't want to be eating a lot of carbs (I save those for booze or cake).

Speaking of which....

Booze: I passed my Advanced Wine Course with a Merit.  I thought I'd failed so was extremely relieved.  I THINK this means I'm now of sommelier status but I may have mis-read. I will probably go on and do the diploma but it's a massive commitment an I need to think carefully about a couple of issues.

Cake: I had a birthday free cake.  Yes, that is a birthday sans cake.  You may take a moment and mourn with me.  We'd ordered some but they were wrongly delivered before we went off for a week away in Suffolk.  And there are no cupcakes to be had in Suffolk.  Not even for ready money.  Instead we went to ITV's Britain's Best Bakery and had an extremely indifferent iced bun.  Not.  The.  Same.  I'm still not over this - can you tell?  The cakes we'd ordered were from our wedding cake maker and sounded delicious.  I can't even re-order as she makes specific flavours each month.  September's (P's birthday month) do not sound nearly as delicious.

We did some long hikes too and I did have birthday blinis and (of course) champage.  But the Asti I got to go with those cakes languishes sadly in the fridge.

Friday, 15 August 2014

Salad Days

Because of trying to eat low-carb, my work lunchtimes are stultifying similar: essentially salad in the summer and soup in the winter.  I don't know why a sandwich seems more interesting and should seem to have more variables but it does.

I tend to eat the same thing until I can stand it no more and I am lacking inspiration to think of new combinations - so I thought I'd ask you.

At the moment I'm eating chicken and avocado - leaves, marinaded chicken, half an avocado and a couple of baby tomatoes with balsamic dressing

Previous choices I'm now sick of:

1) Smoked salmon and prawn with Marie Rose sauce, half an avocado, cucumber and leaves

2) Proscuitto, dolcelatte and fig with leaves and balsamic dressing

Any bright non-carb ideas?  Any soup ideas also welcome!

Today I have a day's leave and am meeting my mum, niece and nephew to do a treasure hunt in the City and a trip on the river bus and cable car.  Should be active and as my brother lives in Cheshire, I don't see them much.

Tomorrow we have an epic hike with friends - including pub lunch.  I had to check with them whether they'd be okay for a 10 miler as last time we took friends hiking, they were so exhausted they fell asleep in their dinner!  Oops.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Clothes line

Do you know, I am actually glad we're not going on holiday this year?  And that is only because of the agonies about clothes.  Much more so if it's somewhere hot where I might have to wear a swimsuit - or look odd.  Or look a damn sight more than odd in a swimsuit of course!

As it is I'm fretting at the back of my mind about dinner in a posh hotel restaurant for P's birthday.  I seem to be treating it like I treat mirrors - I look at it out of the corner of my eye, and yet manage not to see beyond which is necessary.  Although if I don't get on and book it, it won't happen anyway.  A couple of years ago we went there and I wore a navy lace pencil skirt and a satin belted kimono jacket and actually felt pretty good: I was at least 2 sizes smaller.  My pencil skirt days are behind me literally and metaphorically.

We've been doing lots of hiking - in fact so much that I struggle to stay awake on Saturday evenings. I'm also trying to do one or two long walks during the week.  Does this help?  Who knows.  I suppose it gives me the illusion of trying but I don't think I'm any slimmer.

Still putting some effort in to food - I manage a healthy, low-carb breakfast, lunch and dinner but I'm eating too much fruit and too many snacks.  The odd bag of crips (even lower calorie ones) DOES count and I need to stop that.  I seem to be hungry a lot at the moment and I don't know why.  Mind you, there's an unopen bag of nuts on my desk that I could eat instead of Wotsits and must.  They'd fill me up too.  It's just they're so..... worthy.  No matter.  I pledge: no more crisps.

Thursday, 31 July 2014

Clothes maketh the woman

I met with two friends for a drink and something light to eat tonight.  No biggie, right?  (No pun intended...)  Except we went to a hip members' club in hip Hoxton.  I'm surprised they let me in - and I wouldn't be surprised if they terminate my friend's membership as a result!

I am the antithesis of hip.  I'm kinda frumpy really.  That's not exactly a style choice, but it how it all ends up.  I felt acutely uncomfortable all night.

I texted one friend to say that I'd have to buy an outfit if we were to do that again - but it's really like the pig's proverbial lipstick, ie inconsequential to the overall effect.

I am sure it was supposed to be a treat and I feel mean that I hated it so much.

And I wish I could get a makeover.  Is there a way or an outfit that could make me look okay whilst I (over)fill it in the way I do?  I don't think so.  I don't mean a makeover, do I?  I essentially mean the whole magic wand bit - and actually even the Fairy Godmother had decent base material to work with!  Hmm, as ever, I seem to be left hoping for a miracle!

Thursday, 17 July 2014

Of floracide and other things

In the long slow tarting up of our flat, we have cleared our small balcony and I have re-planted the planters.  Sounds simple but I have the opposite of a green finger - probably a black one.  All plants in my care die.  It's been less than a week and the violas are looking sickly, the lavender shows signs of queasiness and only the cosmos looks okay.  And even then, some of the leaves are dying.  P helpfully suggested plastic flowers.  No.  Obv.  I think I have to have temporary flowers and keep replanting and slaughtering fresh victims.

What I really need to do is sort out my clothes.  I have a LOT of clothes - and yet I reckon only about 2% actually fit me.  I have some nice things, surprisingly.  Surprising because I pretty much buy everything from ebay.  It seems pointless spending money on clothes - firstly because I am ever hopeful that I will lose weight (HA!) and secondly because, well, lipstick on a pig.  If I ever get back in my 16s, I will have a whole wardrobe.

This weekend we have guests coming.  Conservative eating guests.  We're doing Italian as I know they like that (they don't like Thai!  Who doesn't like Thai?!).  Antipasti including homemade caponata, meatball lasagne with tricolore salad and tiramisu (because P loves it and I hardly ever make it).  Almost embarrassingly easy.  I had a stern injunction not to put too much pressure on myself and because time will be tight, I have heeded it.  But I still feel almost furtive about the lack of finesse and effort (look away Seren!  This is not the calibre of food of chez Seren)

And now, on to an update.  Firstly, thank you all for your comments - I appreciated every one and it made me feel less alone to an extent I can't properly exress.  I think the main things that I will take away from them is 1) Amy and I should clearly swop husbands (although 2 clingy people in one marriage might be a recipe for disaster), 2) Yes to the flouncing - but the circumstances have to be right.  We talked about his behaviour and he took responsibility for being horrible.  I didn't talk about my feeling that he doesn't love me; I am pretty sure he thinks he does and it would be pretty patronising to insist otherwise.  In fact, he said he did and he said he couldn't understand why I needed to be kept being told I was a 'worthwhile' person when I so clearly was.  This is quite effusive for him.