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.
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).