Rules of engagement

So how’s this for confusing?  I lost 2lbs.  Which finally – FINALLY – takes me to a stone off.  I do hope the next one is easier.  Yeah, yeah, I know, there’s no way that’s ever going to happen.

But this brings me to what I wanted to write about even before today’s surprise announcement: the Rules.  No, not the one saying you mustn’t show a man you’re interested until you have a ring on your finger.  Because I abjectly failed at that – having been with P for 15 years before he proposed (less ‘popped the question’ than exploded it as I nearly passed out from shock).

No, I am a Rules Girl.  P does not like this about me.  But I like to know that if I do x, then y will happen.  Not f*cking g or q or even ~.  Life rarely co-operates.  In dieting terms, I know that I can have 5-15 “syns” a day.  So I mostly have 4 on Monday - Friday, with the expectation that the chaos theory may well chuck in a few under the radar.  This also means that I can have wine at the weekend (okay, mostly just Saturday) and a G&(skinny)T with impunity, having slaved at the syn-front all week.  It means half a chocolate bar on a Sunday – if there’s been no other synnage.  That’s what I do and I expect, therefore, to have a nice neat loss as a consequence.  The fact that it doesn’t work like that is a constant source of surprise and bitter disappointment.  But more than that, it feels as if Life/Dieting God is reneging on some watertight contract and it really pisses me off.

Okay, I try to tip the tables in my favour by missing out one of my ‘Healthy Eating’ A and/or B at the weekend (this, non SW people, is a bread/crackers allowance and a dairy allowance.  In the week this is my morning coffee and 25g of cereal to sprinkle on my FF yoghurt and fruit).  My theory is that I ‘buy’ myself extra slack in not eating those calories at the weekend.  I do not know whether this is a good theory or even sensible.  It makes sense to me but I have very little science awareness.

I want things to be neat, okay?  Yes, even my wardrobe and there’s no chance of that, having as it does bags of clothes I am waiting to shrink into (it features everything from 14s (from my smallest post LL days) to 22s sufficient to (almost) corral my comedy bosom.  I want though, to look at my week’s consumption, look at my weight loss and be able to tally the two.  To be confident that if I keep my end of the bargain, so too will the Scales of Doom.  I can even deal with the fact that if I had a week when I went off-piste that I would put on.  Because I know why and it’s my fault, I deserved it and I can correct it. 

This week I am confident that I was just about within my weekly synnage so I ought to have lost but was terrified (and pleasantly pleased) but last week?  Who knows what happened?  In fact, the last few weeks are a mystery.  But I can totally see why Amanda L looked at my losses and said (paraphrasing) that I’m losing my mojo; I’d look at that and make that assumption too.  But I’m still sticking to it as carefully as ever – I even weigh my 25g of cereal each day, rather than assuming I know the rough amount.  If I ever have cheese on anything (pretty rare, admittedly) I weigh the 30g.  I eat boringly consistent meals in order not to risk the perilous balance.  Universe: are you listening?

And thanks for the pom-pom waving from Amanda, Gabby, Steph and Tiramisue (great name although it does make me salivate a bit!).  I assure you that I’m sticking with it, even on days when the contract has been ripped up in my face to accompanying virtual gusts of laughter.  But believe me, your comments help me plod on.  PS I had half a glass of wine at the team evening, did not eat and just stuck to fizzy water.

Fatloss Forecast:

Seriously, I’m beginning to think forecasting the weather is easier.  And I have a cardigan, brolly and sunglasses in my bag.  But in terms of obstacles to dodge – just one which I’m pretty confident I can manoeuvre around: supper and drinks to celebrate a colleague’s impending wedding.  I reckon I can choose a very SW friendly dinner and I’ll swerve the wine/cocktails.  It ought to be a solid result on SoD next week (body-slamming wood at this point).

Tally (ho)

Maybe this is a test of faith.  Or maybe this is my usual thing of diets just grinding to a halt.  I lost 1lb.  Could be worse right?  Well, yes, it could be worse.  A lot worse.  Except.  It’s been 9 weeks and I’ve still not lost a stone.  I was a heartbeat away from it 4 weeks ago so not much has happened since.  To whit:

Wk 1:  -5 lbs

Wk 2: -1 ½ lbs

Wk 3: -1 lb

Wk 4: -3 ½ lbs

Wk 5: - ½ lb

Wk 6: -4 lbs

Wk 7 : +1 ½ lbs

Wk 8: - ½ lb

Wk 9: -1 lb

Grand total = 13 ½ lbs

It’s not great, is it?  I wouldn’t mind if I knew where I was going wrong.  Okay, I’d mind. Obviously.  But I would know what to do – or take it on the chins. 

And just to add insult to injury, I thought I’d weigh myself today in case yesterday’s WI was mucked up by having not properly started my period.  I’d put that 1lb back on.  I’m trying to ignore it.  But truth to tell, dear Reader, it’s playing on my mind.  Or rather, stomping up and down on my mind in hobnail boots, screaming as it does so.  Because I weighed myself at the end of last week and I’d already lost that 1lb: so conceivably I’ve not only not lost anything since last Friday, but I’ve put on too.  And frankly?  I don’t deserve that.  Still, no need to fork out for that bracelet any time soon, eh?!

I’ve been unusually hungry this last 10 days too.  I don’t know why.  Initially I thought it was hormonal but now I have the two types of stomach pain: the monthly type and the hunger type.  If anyone has any ideas why hunger goes in cycles, I’d love to hear it.

Fatloss Forecast:

Not good tbh.  Elongating the weekend is excellent for every reason save dieting.  You know they say misery loves company?  Well, it’s more like dieting loves misery.  Perhaps it’s a complicated virtual love triangle.  I have a four day weekend – hurrah!  But.  I will be drinking wine on 3-4 days.  This doesn’t bode well after a pretty damn virtuous week and what that brought.  I will of course be super-careful elsewhere to compensate.  We are supposed to be having work drinks tonight and I’ve already said I won’t be drinking; this has not been a popular decision.

Half-empty

Was it because I mooted the stone bracelet idea?  Was it because I started to hope and anticipate days when I didn’t feel so bad about myself?  I don’t know.  Because after a good week - which included skipping two breakfasts and two dinners – in which I reined back the booze and skipped pudding when we ate out, I lost ½ lb. 

You’ll recall that I put on 1 ½ lb last week.  I’d had a lot of booze and so I accepted it, painful as it was as the previous week I had only ½ lb to go before I hit a stone off.  That milestone seems to be moving further away rather than getting closer at the moment.  I now have 1 ½ lbs to go to hit that target.  It feels like reverse.

I’m trying to be if not sanguine, at least philosophical and stoical.  I’m trying to block it off in my mind and just plod onwards, hoping for better next week.  I’m trying not to have an inward temper tantrum and think ‘sod it’ and eat with abandon.  Because let’s face it dear Reader, whilst it might be short term gratification, it will not mean I can wear my favourite two linen shirts on the Canada trip (FOR WHICH WE’VE BOOKED OUR FLIGHTS!  PREMIUM ECONOMY TOO!  I’M VERY EXCITED!), it will not mean I can get back into my beloved tweed coat in the winter nor my gorgeous waxed jacked (and no, that’s not an oxymoron, it’s amazing – like a frock coat but wax) nor delve into the bags and bags of clothes cluttering up my wardrobe because they’re too small.  So I need to – in what’s become an irksomely hackneyed phrase – keep calm and carry on.

But I wish I knew why.  So that I could make sure I didn’t repeat that behaviour.

Fatloss forecast:

Right, I have a couple of social occasions in the week ahead which, as we know, dear Reader, means that alarms and klaxons are going off like crazy.  Drinks tomorrow with one of my best friends (honorary brother and ex-boss) who is changing jobs and won’t be based in London any more (sob) and a former colleague of ours.  And then supper with another of my best friends (honorary sister – seriously, we’ve been friends for 22 years) on Monday.  She always wants to go to Wahaca (and bless her, she always pays so I figure she has that right) so I’ll have to look at the menu to choose the least damaging option.  Something around salad I expect.  Definitely not tacos with oozy cheesy yumminess in anyway.  Sigh.

Wrong direction

Ah well.  I guess I knew it was coming but that doesn’t mean that I hadn’t had the odd flicker of hope – ruthlessly suppressed of course – that I might have a small loss this week (just ½ lb, just ½ lb to take me to a stone pleeeeeeeeeeeease). 

But it was not to be.  I put on 1 ½ lbs.  That’s what booze, lasagne and tiramisu does, dear Reader.  In a way, it serves me right.  In another, it’s not like I went crazy and joyously careered off-piste and headfirst, jaws open, into a vat of calorific yumminess.  I can’t pretend it doesn’t sting a bit. 

But now what I have to do is get over it and keep a very tight grip.  I accept it’s contrary, but a loss motivates me to keep going, a gain makes me want to give up and self-soothe with chocolate.  So this gain has to be a blip.  Next week I want to have one of my super-losses (yep 2lbs+) to take me to that stone loss (and ideally beyond but shush, don’t risk the wrath of the diet god by tempting fate) and so have to knuckle down, buckle up, plough on -  and every other related idiom - and keep my eye on the prize (I am all about the idiom).

The perilous route to next WI:

I think I dodged going out on Friday night (sad that dieting requires this sort of thing really) but we have Sunday lunch out with the MIL and stepson.  No booze for that so I am anticipating a gold star on that front.  And I ought to be able to manage food choices too – as well as compensate elsewhere over the week.  I’m seeing a friend on Monday and that’s an unknown quantity currently.  I’m trying to persuade her to go and see a film rather than out for supper but it may not work.  Either way, it looks less foody, less boozy and a tad less unpredictable so I’m hoping that will do the trick.

May the odds be forever in your favour. (And, erm, mine.  Obviously (if selfishly))

The booze news

Usually I only have alcohol once a week.  This week has been, um, well... as follows:

Thu – friend stops by unexpectedly (this almost never happens in London.  In fact it’s the first time: she had flown into the airport we live nearby).  At least half a bottle of wine.  Skipped dinner.

Fri – P’s nephew and fiancée over for supper.  Almost half a bottle of wine

Sat – just under half a bottle of red plus a large glass of white

Sun – just under half a bottle of wine

Tonight – gin or cocktails with the friend I put off last week

Oops.

I skipped a couple of meals but I don’t think that’s going to cut the mustard.  Especially as I had a non-SW supper of meatball lasagne (cheese!  The horror!) on Friday and tiramisu (Cheese (a lot)!  Kahlua (a little)!  Sugar (a little)!  Grated chocolate (a little)!).  I had less than I wanted and it was actually too much and I felt quite ill.  Then I had another piece of tiramisu on Saturday. 

I have a nasty feeling I’m going to put on on WI on Thursday, despite the skippage, the shunning of the ‘healthy extras’ over the weekend (which is normal for me) and a syn free day yesterday (and a low syn day planned for tomorrow).  It’s particularly depressing as a mere ½ lb would mean I’d lost a stone.  But there we go.  I need to take it on the chin (chin... hips... belly... wherever) and knuckle down for the following week.  I know that I have a tendency to go a bit awry after a disappointing week so I need to guard against that.  It’s illogical.  It mustn’t happen.

The week ahead: at the moment, we have lunch out for MIL’s birthday on Sunday but I am hoping one meal out, with wise choices, won’t derail me.  And then seeing friends on Monday night next week (not sure what we’re doing) and Tuesday for one of those shopping event nights with fizz.  So limited fizz for me.  It’s not the leanest week but with some fancy footwork, I’m hoping to have a reasonable result (crossing all fingers as I type this).  In any case, I must not let a couple of bad weeks become a trend.

In other news: my jeans – which were on the generous side – have definitely got absurdly big.  I have the next size down.  They just about fit – less comfortably when I sit, admittedly.  But they fit better than the bigger ones which were at the falling down stage.  I’d got used to acres (not quite literally, dear Reader) of material flapping around my legs so when I wore the smaller size, it felt odd, light and quite freeing.  And after painting myself – and to a lesser extent our railings – over the weekend, the larger ones are now liberally splodged with green.  As indeed am I.  It does make for scruffier jeans though, so I need to concentrate on pensioning those ones off and staying in (and staying in more comfortably) the smaller ones.  It’s not easy being green....

*!*

Well.  I don’t know what’s going on, dear Reader.  I’m pretty much speechless and totally mystified – I lost 4lbs.  I’m now half a lb off my first stone (in 6 weeks).  Maybe I have good results every other week?  Maybe the fact that I missed several whole meals offset the small indulgences of early in the week?  Maybe the mole I had removed had the disproportionate weight of some sort of mysterious heavy mass?  I don’t know.  I wish I did as I’d like losses like this every week (please).  Ideally without the mole removal which involved cutting and burning and has left me with a sore arm.  Would I put up with this for a 4lb drop every week?  Well, probably but it doesn’t seem the most practical or sane plan.

I didn’t go out for drinks with my friend – that may have helped.  And I didn’t go out with her because I had a migraine – this was the reason for some of the skipped meals.  I’m out with her on Tuesday instead.  And we have P’s nephew and fiancée over for supper tonight (basic supper as when we went there it was breaded chicken strips in tortillas (and then a plate of biscuits (basic ones) for pudding?????) and we don’t want to look flash: meatball lasagne with salads and then tiramisu (P’s favourite)).  Basic it may be but not SW friendly – too cheesy, too pudding and, for my version, too carby.

And last night we had an unexpected visit from a friend.  I had three large glasses of wine and skipped supper to compensate – and now I feel horrible.  At the moment I do not feel like meatball lasagne, tiramisu or wine.  My breakfast (yoghurt (Seren: you were right about the Liberte yoghurt – better than Fage even) and berries) is still sitting on my desk.  Bleurgh.  What a feeble reaction to 3 glasses – however large. 

Tomorrow will be spent painting our railings.  Let no-one say we don’t know how to lead a crazy-fun, hedonistic lifestyle.  Does this burn a lot of calories?  I doubt it.  It is likely to make us hungry though so I’ll need to watch that.

Even with my weird fortnightly cycle of losses predicting a small loss for this week, I’d like to at least get that ½ lb off to make it a stone.  Obviously more would be better!  Please keep your metaphorical fingers crossed for next Thursday.

Happy bank holiday weekend all.