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):
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2026639/Millionaire-Matchmaker-Patti-Stangers-date-night-style-rules.html
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.