Thursday, 25 August 2011

Woulda, coulda, shoulda

The maintaining a steely discipline dissolved at the point at which work became so unbearable that I had to eat my way through it. It sounds worse than it has been (in terms of calorie ingestion – it’s not been a total throwing in of the dieting towel) but at the same time, it’s not what I’d intended. I know, I know, the road to hell is paved in good intentions.

I will not allow myself to collapse entirely though. This week I didn’t lose so much as an ounce (despite coming in under syns) so I really can’t embrace the evils of booze, sugar, flour and fat with anything like the gusto that I’d ideally like. I’m having the rest of the week off (hell, it’s going to be more like the week) but it’s going to be mindful. Apart from the biscuits I ate today in blind panic and misery. But that’s the end of that behaviour. Scout’s honour.

I will actually miss my next WI – or rather it will be delayed a day as we’re not back until Wednesday so WI and next possible computer encounter will be next Thursday. A day of pain for me I foresee. Have a lovely bank holiday weekend (organised in honour of my birthday donchaknow) – when I next write I will be older. All tips for getting rid of crepiness under the eyes most gratefully received.

Tuesday, 23 August 2011

Rain, rain, go away, come again another day (but not until after the bank holiday weekend please)

Given that we are a soggy island, people’s reaction to rain always amazes me. Today on my 10 min walk from the tube to my office I saw a woman in a black pencil skirt, teal top, lipstick pink heels – and an umbrella matched EXACTLY to her shoes. Who would ever have thought of such co-ordination? Still, better than the man who had fashioned himself what looked like a shower cap out of a Sainsbury’s carrier bag. Stylish.

But I was envious of the girl, dressed in work-out gear, with a gorgeous little blood orange sweat-top with ruched sleeves and black leggings. Can you IMAGINE being able to wear leggings with a short top and looking pert-arsed rather than a visual affront? I can’t. I think if I dieted for the rest of my life (which, let’s face it, is entirely probable), I couldn’t pull that off. Sigh.

I have had a very mixed week. On the positive side, I have not thrown caution to the wind – in fact, I have had caution in a desparate stranglehold. I have had 88 syns out of what is allowed – for a normal person – 105. But I haven’t met my rules – I usually allow myself 5 during the week and 15 Fri/Sat/Sun (although if I hit 20 on one or two of those days I don’t castigate myself too much). A weekend with my mother meant a few more treats than I should allow myself – but as SWise One says, sometimes other things are more important than dieting. This was one of those weekends. I did what I could but I’m trying not to beat myself up over a bit more lassitude. Of course, I may not be able to stick to that once I encounter SoD tomorrow (although a sneaky WI BEFORE the weekend – 2 days of utter virtue – lead to me being 1.5lbs up. ???).

I’m also thinking very carefully about the forthcoming weekend. I want to enjoy the birthday treats without throwing – nay hurling – the diet completely out of the window. Not every meal has to be a defiantly anti-diet choice; there are things I really want (cake, wine, heedless and hedonistic restaurant choices) but there are equally things I don’t need to have ‘just because’. I keep thinking about McDonalds! Better to have a really delicious artisanal burger in the pub halfway round one of the 11 mile walks I’m planning – that is worth breaking the diet for (only because it’s my birthday) whereas a Big Mac is not. It’s just headfuckery (if you’ll forgive the graphic phrase) and I’m not giving in to it. I gave bf a run down of what I wanted to do for the whole weekend (Friday to Tuesday (inc)) and he did say “That’s THREE really long walks”. Yep! I’ve given him a pass to reduce one if he’s knackered. I think we’ll be fine though.

In other news, Operation Stiletto is limping along. Literally. I wore heels all day on Thursday and it took until Saturday lunchtime until the balls of my feet stopped hurting. Yesterday and today I have only worn heels in the office – not sure that’s going to be enough to make me a proficient and pain-free high heel wearer, given that I spend most of my time in the office sitting at a desk. When I go to the loo though, the air feels thinner.

Thursday, 18 August 2011

Feeling a heel

Despite being short AND short-legged, high heels have never been my friend. It doesn’t help that I have hyper-mobile ankles (so they can’t be relied on to stay steady) and I’m more clumsy than the average klutz so adding any form of instability is risky. But I love them in theory. I even have several pairs – some of which are virgin, lying pristine and unworn in their little boxes. It’s the pain I can’t deal with though. Today in my latest attempt to quit dumpyville, I determinedly strapped on some 3” heels (higher than this I can’t even stand up without falling over as I have proven); I have a 12 minute walk from the tube to my office and after approximately 4 minutes (max) the pain in the ball of my left foot and, to a lesser extent, my right calf. I’ve stuck with them and now have a pain on the top of where my foot meets my ankle and the ball of my other foot is also burning. I would like to wear heels to try and balance out my poor proportions and of course for the wedding – but not if it means constant pain. If I stick with it, it’ll get easier, right?

The pain in my feet probably makes me more likely to be tetchy, but this stupid woman in the Mail has made me even crosser (serves me right for reading the Mail, I suppose):
Some self-important, opinionated woman, wearing a sweet wrapper in lieu of a dress, tells us that rich men do not like redheads. This makes my brain (upholstered as it is in ginger follicles) pulsate with fury – must be my redheaded temper, right? And Lana Turner and that Christina-someone from madmen (don’t watch it), Julianne Moore, Isla Fisher and Emma Stone clearly are lonely spinsters, unappealing to the male race. Grrrrr. Hey, isn’t Isla Fisher’s husband at least rather wealthy? But perhaps I am mistaken.

So, I had an exemplary weekend – I resisted all temptation (and there was a lot) to collapse into an orgy of treat-eating and imposed extreme self-discipline and rigid adherence to syns. We also did a 12 mile walk, an 11 mile walk and a 6.5 mile walk. I lost 1lb. For a normal woman this would be uninspiring, but for my frustrating metabolism, I have to be happy with that (now Porky.4 ½). The weeks ahead mean I’m unlikely to see much if any loss for a while though:
• This weekend I’m at my mum’s – we’re going out to lunch on Saturday and to a teashop on Sunday. Tactics: I reckon as long as those are my only treats AND with careful management of the lunch choices (nothing online to allow me to formulate a plan), I should be able to sneak through unscathed. Fingers crossed.
• Next weekend, bank holiday weekend, is my birthday. There will be cake, some booze and some non-diet choices. I accept that I will put on weight (whilst inwardly railing against it of course) and currently am in intense negotiation with myself about not making every decision a bad one (diet-wise) and still retaining a sense of proportion. And portion. Think I’m going to be able to do this – moderation is not my strongest suit but my attitude does feel different this year – I don’t feel like I’m going to use it as an excuse to stuff myself with anything and everything. Only time will tell, of course.
• Following weekend – we’re staying with friends in Devon so will be eating with them on Friday and Saturday nights (and breakfast on Saturday and Sunday and lunch on Sunday). I think damage limitation is the name of the game here. I don’t want to be a nightmare guest, being picky and freaky about what they give us so I’ll gracefully (tough in my case) to go along with it but I can employ restraint (again I say, tough in my case) and manage as best I can.

As I’ve often said, dieting is tough, dieting whilst having a life, that’s REALLY tough.

Friday, 12 August 2011

Tough love

I will have to be very strict with myself. I have 2 days off work and so we’re going down to Suffolk for a long weekend. I do not want to fall into holiday mode and off the wagon, syns will have to be counted and severely rationed as ever. I’ve done pretty well this week so far – with 2 cinema visits and 2 wistful looks at pick and mix, specifically the fizzy cherry bottles and blue bottles (that sounds disgusting, not the flies but these: mmmm) but no actual sampling.

And let’s face it, after a strict week (I had 67.5 syns out of an allotted 105), I STILL only lost ¾ lb so I really can’t afford to have too much fun! This brings my results up to:

• Current weight - Porky.5 ½
• Number of weeks on SW - 20
• Total weight lost on SW – 7lbs
• Total weight lost in last month – 5lbs
• Number of weeks to holiday – 7 ½ weeks (although expecting bday blip in a fortnight)

I’d like to get down to the next stone bracket before I go away but I suspect that even if I scrape in to Plump (as I think I’ll call it. Was to be Chubby but I think Plump is a fatter term and thus more appropriate), I’ll ping back whilst I’m away. I do think that psychologically it will be easier to restrain myself if I’m a few lbs into Plump than if I’m still Porky or only fractionally into Plump.

See you the other side of the next WI, gulp!

Tuesday, 9 August 2011

Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner

This is a blog about weight loss and - to a lesser extent - weddings. It's light-hearted (save the odd SoD induced strop) and pretty focussed but I can't let current events go by without commenting. For a more traditional post see below for the one I prepared earlier!

But... I am so appalled by what is happening that I have to speak out. In London and it's spreading like some sort of canker elsewhere in the country. I watch the footage and I feel ashamed to be British. I do not believe that this is any kind of protest of idealogy - I think these are selfish, venal, evil thugs, bent on self-gratification, theft and mindless destruction. Evil? I don't think it's too strong a word. I've seen fellow Londoners (from all corners of the globe) crying over the devastation of their shops, the businesses that they've built up in an initially foreign country. They're the brave people.

As are the police. Having to run literally towards that kind of trouble, agression and venom. No-one signs up for that but they do it anyway. My heart goes out to every wife, girlfriend, husband, boyfriend and family member who is glued to 24 hour news coverage for a glimpse of the person they love, hoping that they're not going to swell the number of 111 who have been injured. I saw a shot of police cars driving through Clapham to applause. I hope they know that we - the real Londoners - are behind them when they face that rabid pack of animals. Unfair to animals really. Cockroaches perhaps. I really hope we don't see the media turn on the police, saying that they should have been able to prevent this. Who could have foreseen such devastation on such a scale? We need to pull together not pull each other apart.

And I have no time for the people bleating that these are young people voicing their dissatisfaction with 'the system'; this is not any kind of protest, it's mindless thuggery and should be condemned as such - not have excuses made for it. It makes me despair that there can be so many people like this, prepared to behave in such an appalling way. If it weren't for those people - the polar opposite - who have taken to the streets with brooms in their hundreds to clear up and to voice their opposition to the looting and vandalism I would have lost my faith in human nature altogether. A colleague who lives there and went to join in the clean up said that people were queueing (blissfully British!) to try and play their part in restoring a community. "And if they come again tonight, we'll be here tomorrow" one woman told a camera with determination.

Let them eat steak

Someone, somewhere commissioned research into the weight we put on on holiday and it got quite a bit of pick up in the UK media last week. Guess what the top destination is in terms of piling on the lbs? Yep, the US. Where bf and I are off to in 8 weeks. Bf told me he’d read this last week and, frozen with fear, I asked the dreaded question “how much?”; the average weight gain after a fortnight in the US is....8lbs.

Well, 8lbs doesn’t sound too bad. I reckon I put on that much on a walking weekend away in Devon in May. No, I fear 8lbs would be a good result for me. Which when you consider that it will take me at least 2 ½ months to lose 8lbs, I should be a lot more scared. And 8lbs is the average – I am always in the most extreme quartile of these things – yes, someone is staying slim at my expense. And if I find her, harsh words will be spoken.

What will save me? Well, I probably can’t be saved, given my appalling metabolism, but I don’t drink a great deal (sadly) and that will help. I’m hoping that sharing portions with bf will also help. But at the end of the holiday, I expect to have put on weight and I’m going to have to deal with that. Without using it as an excuse as a free-for-all before, during and after the trip.

I suspect a similar lapse over BH weekend. It’s my birthday so I’ll probably have a little more to drink and allow myself to eat some things I rarely allow myself to have. I will be having 2 cupcakes (not at once and in lieu of a birthday cake), for instance. Bf has nobly agreed to go on a pilgrimage to this place (apologies for evil DM link):

I have wanted to go here for ages and so on Friday mid-late morning he will meet me here for a cupcake of my choice (and one to take away). I was planning on a pancake breakfast on my birthday but the place that did them has changed hands and they don’t do them anymore. But other than that, I will choose what I’d like at dinner on my birthday rather than what seems the lowest calorie/fat choice and not be quite so uptight but I’m not planning on using it as an excuse to eat anything I have fancied, do fancy or conceivably might fancy at some point in the next year. For instance, I’ve asked bf to griddle me a steak for dinner one night – no-one cooks a meaner steak than him and it ticks all the SW boxes too.

Friday, 5 August 2011

What's up doc?

I am fresh out of excuses. Every week I stand on SoD and unless I have lost weight (alas, a rare event) I come up with something: ‘my period’s due’, ‘it’s hot and maybe I’m retaining water’, ‘I’m achy so maybe I’m retaining water’ etc etc. But it can’t always be true. I thought I had had a good week – not as stellar as last week but pretty damn good: I lost ¼ lb. I hoped that it was an anomalous reading but I’ve been on SoD each day since then and been told that I put on ½lb since then (which obv I’m not counting as it is unofficial and therefore not true, la la la).

And I am a carrot girl, through and through. The stick doesn’t work on me; I put a bit of weight on and my natural inclination is to think ‘sod it’. I really need the carrot. I have to give myself a pat on the back here and say I do not give in to it (at work I’ve resisted this week: doughnuts, cocktails and ice cream (and I’m tortured by a Magnum ad I saw at the cinema where the model bit through the chocolate coating with the most seductive thunk of cracking chocolate)) but it makes everything a bit harder.

On those lovely blue moon occasions where I’ve lost a reasonable amount (let’s say somewhere around (or just below) the 2lb mark) my heart lightens as my poundage drops and I am able to skip through the week without the same cares and temptations.

This week I’m plodding.

Tuesday, 2 August 2011

A (non) blonde moment or two

So, since booking cinema tickets for the wrong day and a hotel in the wrong state, I have left my purse up in Suffolk and left the fridge door at home open. All day. There are better ways of cooling the flat. There are probably other things I’ve done but mercifully I’ve forgotten those already. Bf’s ominously making parallels with people getting early onset dementia but I’m trying to keep a grip on my hypochondria over this. I do have blonde genes and I prefer to blame it on this – just haven’t got the accompanying winsomeness to make it all seem cute. Ever seen a winsome redhead? Exactly.

We had a lovely weekend – two amazing walks, one of which was entirely devised by bf slaving over a hot OS map. They weren’t long walks but we were short on time and they were great. On the Sunday walk we found a tree groaning under the weight of bullaces (wild plums) so harvested a few pocketfuls of those. The weather on Sunday was amazing so we delayed our journey back to London until later on – it felt like a much longer weekend although meant for a late night.

Bf and I went to see Harry Potter last night. Actually, although I’m still not happy about losing £30, I’m really glad that I saw it with him (first) as I have done with all the others. Yes, he’s not a fan but I’m still glad it’s him sitting next to me in the dark as I got choked with emotion before the battle scene (as indeed I did when reading it). And just to add insult to injury, he had to pay for us both to go (see: left purse in Suffolk)! He was amazing about it – even going to the cinema on his way home to ensure we got tickets (he won’t book online), then going home and getting the car so we could drive home afterwards.

I have had another good week with syns – I have plenty in the bank – although I did have bread twice. Once was my healthy extra (wholemeal sliced) and once was synned – a white roll with some butter which I really, really fancied and enjoyed every bite of. I am suspicious that bread has a negative impact on my weight; SoD will soon tell me tomorrow.