Fat bottomed girl on bike

Well, I know there was a wagon hereabouts but I've not seen it for days - I can no longer even see the dustclouds on the horizon. Every day I struggle back on, only to be bucked off in manner of bronco. Which comes first - feeling sad and then eating or eating and then feeling sad? I suspect it's all of the above and more of a vicious circle than a chicken-egg conundrum.

Bf has been grouchy all weekend after a few days away. He was in a bad mood because he had an awful journey home on Saturday which led to some criticism of my behaviour at friends on Saturday night (saying the wrong thing, not picking up on signs that he wanted to go - and that my friend wanted us to go - then trying to talk to him on the way home which is apparently 'clingy' (he did apologise for this, he had bad stomach ache), then yesterday I did not fill his glass of water when I filled mine which lead to a rant on my selfishness (still think this was an over-reaction) and then today I'd asked him to do something to my old bike which equally caused a spurt of bad temper including the accusation that I read too much - I sit on the sofa and read when I should be bettering myself apparently (by learning bike-craft). So I ate a packet of Percy pigs, despite their little swollen pink faces which should have reminded me of the direction I'm headed in and despite the fact that they actually contain pig - yuck! And a packet of smarties' eggs and a thorntons lemon bar. The sad thing is that the sugar actually is soothing even though I know that getting fatter makes me very unhappy and erodes my not terribly robust self esteem.

Becoming a cyclist is not easy - and that's before I've even started pedalling. Bf wheeled my bike in (3 miles) to be serviced last week and they took one look and declared it terminal. I thought it was a bike but apparently it's a ball of rust. Which would be cheaper to replace than repair. So I had to go and pick it up and wheel it home - I was practically crying when I got in, I was so tired and achy. It's an odd posture you have to adopt to wheel a bike and I'd walked 3 miles in the morning and a mile or so at lunchtime and then the 3 miles with the bike. In calf-length boots - my little toes were scarlet when I took my boots off. Back to the cycle shop on Saturday to chose a bike - I need a women's one or I will certainly trip over the crossbar, and I need a small one since I'm only 5'4'' and short-legged (sigh). It causes problems as bike manufacturers make the assumption that women are longer legged than men and they make bikes accordingly. I was definitely short-changed in the leg department, sadly. This is the bike I'd really, really like:

Can you see the adorable tulips painted on? It's retro-tastic. But it's also £325 more than the bike I'm probably getting which is this:

Which is rather dull. They don't make mainstream bikes - especially women's bikes - in good colours. Still, at least it's not pink I suppose. White is still a bit girly for me! Ideally I'd have it in lime green or hot orange. Or purple maybe.... Anyway, if it will transform me into a slender, toned creature I will love it, regardless of its colour, as a miracle worker (and regardless of its impact on my hair - prepared to trade tidy hair for slim, muscled legs and arse). Hmmm, I may be investing too much hope in this bike!

A litany of poor excuses

Well, I seem to be bouncing on and off that wagon with such regularity that I ought to be one big bruise - perhaps it's showing up on my soul. I was back to being 'good' last week and then I used the fact that I knew I was going out for lunch with bf's parents and to a christening reception as an excuse to eat spectacularly off-piste on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. And today a 45 min journey to work took 2 hours so I bought a cookie (was over-cooked so not even that nice) and have munched all day since then (albeit on fruit and an extra nairn biscuit pack allowed on diet). I really have to get this all or nothing bonkers mentality out of my system.

I became a godmother on Sunday. I am really quite anti-religious so I'm something of a hypocrite. But I see myself as very much of the fairy godmother school - if a stupidly heavyweight version - fun, frivolity and absolutely no dreary moralising, duty or sucking of teeth.

It was a double christening and we went back to the other child's house for something to eat and drink - it was a lovely day and the garden was filled with perfect Boden-esque families and I had that strange feeling again where I asked myself where the turning in my life was that meant that I'll never have this. I think actually I was never on that road - beats wondering and wondering anyway. It's not even as if I think I want children but I would have liked a solicitous and charming husband and family house - especially a big house in the country with a golden retriever! So I went back to our small flat and ate a creme egg! I may not be living the dream but I can at least batton down the feelings with sickly fondant for 50p - yum.

I keep having flashbacks to all those tall, handsome men and their elegant confident wives - I guess I would never fit! I'm short, tubby, under-confident and usually badly dressed. I stood out - in a bad way. They all had understated graceful outfits on, appropriate for church and the solemnity of the occasion, and I had a kneelength cord skirt with ribbons round it from ebay (that didn't fit anyway), lacy tights and knee length heeled boots. I looked like a scruffy scrubber. I hasten to add, not so much like a scrubber that I didn't have a top on - I had a cotton camisole type top with a knitted cardi-style top which tied at the bust and had a gauze flounce around the edges and wrists. I was so badly dressed that I still feel that hot flush of shame when I think of it. Not surprisingly, none of the elegant couples talked to me except my friend, her husband and parents and the other child's parents. And bf of course - who, in a suit, of course looked fine.

We may be going to friends for dinner next Saturday but I'm resolved to not use that as an excuse to gorge all weekend. Perhaps I'd have the right things to wear, and look better in them, if I didn't eat rubbish. Must try and remember that.

Rolling, rolling, rolling

Back on that wagon. A bit battered - despite the almost certain extra padding - and bruised and sore but shakily holding on. I fell off with a bump a week last Friday (6th), for a dinner party (excuse no 1) and stayed firmly on my (large) ass whilst feeling ill and sorry for myself (excuse no 2) until Thursday when I clambered back aboard for a day trip - only to fall back off on Friday (13th - excuse no 3?) with a meal out (planned and not disasterous (unlike the creme egg and bag of haribo fizzy jelly sweets)) on Saturday and a trip to the Country Living Spring Fair on Sunday which involved a nausea-inducing quantity of fudge. So now (almost) 2 days on the straight and narrow; sadder, hungrier and fatter - and a bit resentful. It will pass - all of it. I predict that the slowest to pass will be the fat.

So back on the diet, the food diary and must get back to Beck etc too.

Not back on the treadmill though - I've not been running in all that time. Whilst I was ill I knew that I couldn't run - walking to the tube was effort enough for my jelly-legs. I am better than I was, if not 100%, and should probably be starting thinking about getting back to the dreaded running but I start cycling next month (have booked bike in for service and bought a helmet) and so walked part of my route this morning to get used to it. It took an hour and 10 mins on foot (and that's only the central London bit!) and my thighs still ache (curiously). I'll be trying a different route tomorrow as I don't have all the one way bits sussed at all. I don't think it's entirely an excuse to get out of running - it is a good use of time as I'll be less nervous about cycling a route I know. Bf is getting his bike serviced too so he can do a practice route with me (he's an experienced if lapsed cyclist) by bike, pointing out where I need to position myself for junctions etc and where to avoid potholes and the like. I am trying to survive.

Just to top off my lovely ill experience I got a migraine last night. I was very hungry and managed some dinner before I took to my bed, dosed right up on prescription drugs. I found myself idly considering whether I could eat some extra chocolate as chances were that I'd throw it up again. As it was, I didn't even have the permitted single square as I couldn't manage to get it - let alone eat it - and I didn't throw up so it would have been to no avail. How twisted is that though? I'm sure a 'normal' person wouldn't think like that.

Sick and twisted

I'm ill. Just a cold but whilst I can cope with the snottiness, I don't like the fact that my legs seem to have turned into rubber. I also feel intermittently sick and shivery (not necessarily at the same time). Of course, like any idiot (or perhaps I'm just a specially idiotic idiot), I'm trying to eat myself out of it. Yes, chocolate has once again become my main food group. And yes, even when I feel sick. How will a tightening waistband and an increasing heaviness of both heart and body help? I don't know. Well, I do know - it won't help - but I can't seem to stop. I even ate a whole packet of toffees Monday/Tuesday as I'd once been told they're good for a sore throat, even though they tasted of wax and I didn't even convince myself about the justification.

It seems to me that dieting is rather like commuting - you have a period of time where every atom rebels against it and every minute is a harrowing trial; if you can get through this to numb acceptance and habit, you can keep going almost indefinitely. Indefinitely ended for me on Friday with my unwilling pastry flirtation which led to a brief cake liaison which led to a seriously intense chocolate session. It continued through my Saturday lunch with friends (I haven't been that full since Christmas) into Sunday where I ate nothing all day and then a load of easter themed chocolate and a fake chinese (roast duck in plum sauce (horribly sweet) and rice) into Monday when I started to feel very ill indeed and today, Wednesday, is still going strong. Today's menu - capuccino, peach smoothie, piece of indifferent lemon cake (red nose day thing at work), 2 plums, Diet Chef soup, packet of crisps, Gu brownie, half a dozen strawberries, 2 strips of mango and pineapple, half a dozen jelly beans and a Guylain seashells bar - so far at 5.30pm. And no running for a week now (due to work at the end of last week and illness so far this week). I have a horrible taste in my mouth from decongestants and I suspect it's not just my imagination that's making me think my waistband feels tighter.

Utterly mental arithmetic

Lesley hasn't posted today and I'm hoping I haven't dragged her down into the Food Focus abyss of despair. It's a great website (foodfocus.co.uk - enter at your peril) - like Weight Loss Resources but free. You put in your current and desired weight, how much you want to lose a week and it tells you how long it takes to get there - and critically, what your daily calorie consumption should be. Mine said 900calories. Well, 906 but frankly you could use that 6 cals just by inhaling as you pass a Millie's Cookies. Just to lose a hardly breakneck 2lbs a week. How depressing is that? I am managing on the Diet Chef 1200 calories a day (sometimes a bit under, occastionally a bit over) but I do get hungry. I could not survive on 900 calories a day without a) being incredibly bad tempered b) eating my own limbs - or those around me and c) fainting in manner of Victorian lady (without the wasp waist).

Of course, being utterly devoid of logic, as I started today at a breakfast briefing where the only food was mini pastries and had 2 (although I am not fond of pastries I was very hungry and hadn't been able to eat first because I had to get up shortly before the crack of dawn) I decided that since I was never going to be able to stick to 900 calories anyway AND I'd had lardy sugar, I may as well continue. So I had a roll (white), a slice of chocolate tray bake birthday cake (mmmm) and 4 Thorntons chocolates (muh, not so great). My inner sugar monster is activated and the day is yet young....

PS Mrs - half a stone away from where I'll fit in most of my clothes, not half a stone away from anything reasonable, let alone slim!

Be careful what you wish for

As you know, I'm always looking for excuses to get out of running. Last week I almost didn't go just because I lost my water bottle. But now I can't go tomorrow OR Friday - because of work things - and I'm feeling quite panicky. I mean, with four runs I week I can barely lose weight, so what will happen with only two? It doesn't bear thinking about. I've gone over it and over it in my mind and I just can't fit it in - our 'gym' doesn't open until just after 6am so it's not even an option of getting up obscenely early. Arghhh.

The weight is going down but so slowly as to be imperceptible to the naked eye. The drugs definitely aren't working in that I'm still hungry but do seem to be causing me sleepless nights - and nightmares when I do drop off. So at least I don't have to feel conflicted about whether or not I continue to take them, given that they appeared to raise my blood pressure last time I gave them a go. I'm still half a stone off the weight where I'll feel more relaxed about losing at a slower rate (not slower than now though or I'd be in reverse!) - and relaxed is not currently a word I'd choose to describe how I feel about my weight.

Events are conspiring to push me further towards cycling though. Not only is there the exercise thing and that my season ticket runs out at the end of the month, but yesterday I got a seat on the tube going home only for the man sitting next to me to decide to only read the left hand page of his freebie newspaper but insist on holding it fully open - across me and leaning it on my fawn coat. Which I don't want to have to dry clean newsprint off even if I were happy about him and his grotty rag invading my personal space. Today I was crammed on so tight that I didn't even have room to open my paperback. The joys of commuting. Surely playing chicken with a Star reader in a juggernaut can't be as bad? Gulp.

Shame-faced but still standing

Thank you to everyone who put such thoughtful comments on my last post. I feel rather embarrassed about it actually as this is usually the stuff I keep well and truly buttoned down and barely even acknowledge to myself, let alone blurbing on and on.

I think part of my dissatisfaction is that I'm sick of being me - I wish I could slough myself off like a snake and turn into something/someone different. But of course even snakes don't actually manage that. And the last thing I need is a thinner skin - that's definitely part of the problem. Losing weight didn't make me a different person either - it was a bit easier to hold my head up, a bit easier to deal with life generally but I didn't suddenly become confident - okay, I didn't make it to officially slim but I don't think it would make much difference.

Bf hasn't referred to the outburst since then. He mentioned the fact I was "anxiously hovering" when he got in on Friday night - I was - and there was a slight chill in the air, but that's it and by Saturday all was back to normal. I know there will be another time though - I guess all I can do is try to change my reaction to it. I think, as Lesley says, having the self-esteem to stick to your guns and shrug off things that are actually other people's issues is the key (I'm paraphrasing and interpreting possibly). I need to be less anxious to please and just tougher, more self sufficient - but the trick is how I achieve this. But to answer another question, on balance this relationship is worth it - the good times do make up for these bad times but the bad times are pretty bad and I take them very much to heart. And maybe that's as much about me as him (see above).

I didn't weigh myself on Saturday - I felt too emotionally fragile to deal with even one more thing. We were at friends for dinner on Saturday night - it wasn't a lavishly calorific affair but I know that any deviation from the plan seems to mean no weight loss. This was not helped by the lovely intention of a friend sending me 6 of one of my favourite chocolate bars - I ate 2 on Saturday, figuring I couldn't count calories that day anyway (bonkers reasoning). I did cut down a bit extra yesterday to make up for all the excess - ironic since I was making Toblerone ice cream to have as pudding when friends come over for lunch on Saturday (which means being organised in advance hence the early preparation). I still had 2 of the bars but even so came in just over 1000 calories - only one bar left now since bf had one and I will be pleased to see them go, bad though that is given the kindness of my friend.

The Toblerone ice cream recipe cruelly had the calorie content next to it which was scary - and I'm making Toblerone cookies to go with it as just serving ice cream feels as if I've not put in sufficient effort (although it takes hours it's not hard to actually make) which I suspect are also in the scary category. I'll weigh myself before that and hope to counter the inevitable gain over the course of the week. I upped my running again today too - I'm now doing 6 mins run, 2 mins walk for 40 mins. My arse hurts now so hopefully that means it's realising it's not wanted and is decreasing. This just might be my last month of running if I can get Operation Eeek going (cycling) and not be killed in the process - by no means certain. Cycling the 50 mins tfl make it each way to and from work (and I guess I'll be slower at least to begin with) means I won't feel obligated to run. I think cycling burns fewer calories but I'll be doing more of it than the running. Zest reckoned that a 30 min commute by bike meant 1lb loss a week - I'll be doing almost double that but given my slow rate of weight loss I won't expect to lose double the lard. Would be nice though....