Skirting around

So I finally womanned up and tried on some summer skirts (five).  I wouldn’t say they fit exactly but I did get them on (except one which turned out to be a 14).  Of the five, one fit, one was a red herring (see above), two almost fit and one was very snug indeed.  I then tried on some shirts I’d bought on ebay – fine except for the button over my boobs which was likely to fire off and take some octogenarian’s eye out.  Clearly I need to go to Plan B.
 
Dieting is still going well – except for the visible result bit.  Or result bit at all.  No, of course I’ve not done Scales of Doom – it took a lot of courage just to try skirts on.  And I still have a shirt I bought online but have never even taken out of the packet for fear of it not actually fitting.  Yes, that potentially means I have bought something I have not actually seen, nor may ever do if I don’t pluck up the courage to open the sodding packaging.
 
But I’m managing my starve days and not going crazy on non-starve days.  I almost look forward to starve days – except when I’m actually doing one.  Then I’m just hungry and a little resentful.  But I try to only do it a day at a time and then it’s just a case of hanging on to the following day.
 
This weekend will (weather permitting) be an easy one in terms of diet.  We have no plans other than a reasonable hike on Saturday.  The following weekend however we are up in York seeing some friends.  This certainly means Betty’s and eating out generally.  One day at a time.  With those skirts at the back of my mind.

Feel the fear....

..... and then wuss out by utterly not confronting it and hoping it will go away.  The book only wasn’t called that because the title wouldn’t fit on the page, right?  So, I literally lie in a cold sweat every night (and intermittently during the day.  (Not the lying bit so much then)), worrying that my summer skirts won’t fit me in time for the honeymoon.  Now, a braver person than me would simply try the buggers on and then they’d know, one way or the other.  Reader, I am not that person.  Because by avoiding facing the truth, there’s still a glimmer of hope that all might be well you see.  But they’re all 16s and I’m mostly wearing 18s these days.  The prognosis is not good.  I’m going to have to bite the bullet.  One day.  Soon.
 
I did try on the larger of the two formal dresses I bought last summer in anticipation of the ship’s social shenanigans: it didn’t fit.  I do not love humiliation and grief so didn’t try the smaller one on (if I loved misery I am sure I would be a better dieter.  Or maybe not, thinking about the threat of misery eating.). 
 
So I’m taking all your advice and kind of distilling it (that doesn't mean ignoring the bits I don't fancy, honest).  I’ve bought a bronzey coloured dress for Formal Night#2 from ebay and am trying to buy something black and white for Formal Night#1 aka The Black and White Ball.  I missed out on one dress I actually liked as the bidding went too high – and it looks like it will happen again with a 2^nd.  The thing is, without knowing that it will suit me AND fit me, I’m loath to go crazy.  But my back up plan is this:
http://www.vivienofholloway.com/en/category/50s%20Halterneck%20Luxury%20Dress/1950s-halterneck-luxury-dress/977/
It’s champagne colour underneath (much warmer and kinder to my pallor than white) with black lace over the top.  I’d have to get a bolero jacket/top in black (booo) and hopefully that would make it smart enough for a ‘ball’ despite not being full length.  It has a slim chance of being worn again, despite the hated black I think.  And P suggests a coloured sash which is a rather nice idea.
 
But my cold sweats remind me that this is just a small part of the holiday; I need to have daytime outfits (which if I can get into those skirts will be fine.  Ish) and ‘informal nights’ outfits for the ship.  Informal does not seem to mean what I thought it did since it helpfully includes what that might be – and the words ‘cocktail dress’ are first up.  I had never considered a cocktail dress to be informal!  I’m working on the basis that I can wear a summer frock or a skirt and smart top rather than an actual cocktail dress.  And maybe I could accessorise it with an actual cocktail?  That’s as far as I’ve got.  I have a very nice kimono jacket but I suspect this will also be too small.  Oh blubber, get ye gone.
 
On that note, I’m doing pretty darn well on the sticking to the starve days and not careering joyously off-piste on the non-starve days.  I don’t think this actually translates to any weight loss though.  My clothes certainly don’t feel any different.  I’m keeping at it and kind of hoping that suddenly I’ll dump a load of weight before the end of May.  A stone and a half (or thereabouts) or a dress size would be perfect.

The facts in black and white.

So, yet again I turn to you, dear Reader, to help me out of a sticky spot.  No, not one caused by a surfeit of sugar; not an actual sticky spot (waddayoumean surprised?!) but a metaphorical sticky spot.  A sartorial sticky spot.  No, I didn’t just do that for the sheer damn pleasure of the alliteration, it’s an actual conundrum.
 
And here it is.  One of the formal nights on our non-cruise (because it doesn’t stop anywhere it’s apparently not technically a cruise) is a Black and White Ball.  I can see why they did this: men, you’re in dinner suits (or tuxs if you’re American), women, you have a little black cocktail dress, right?  Wrong.  I possess nothing black.  I wear it under protest to sing in (choir of death) and for funerals (um, yes, death) and that’s it.  I have a couple of white shirts to wear with jeans but, given this is (predominantly) a weight loss blog, we’re all rejecting white as a concept already, right? 
 
As I see it, I have three options:

1)      Buy a cheapish black dress, accept I will not love it and will jettison it asap.  However little I spend, it will be a waste of money.  I’m going to look drawn and tired in it (the effect of black on my pallor) and rather like a Duracell battery with the copper hair.  Think of it as a necessary evil and try not to resent it.

2)     Cheat a little.  Have something made that’s mostly black but maybe with a big shawl collar in a more flattering colour; either subtle like gold or stronger like purple.  Will I ever wear it again?  Unlikely but more likely than option 1.  Tbh, I have little cause to wear balldresses.  I know, it’s a shock, isn’t it?

3)     Cheat a lot.  Buy a dress in as close a colour as possible – read pale gold for white (hmmm) or inky blue for black (might get away with it since apparently the clientele profile is distinctly ‘older’ and in artificial light, it might look black.  Might).

4)     Bonus option!  Wear the dress I bought already which is sort of bronze.  There are two big ‘buts’ with this.  But#1 – it’s way off either black or white.  But#2 – I bought it when I was quite a bit slimmer (although alas not actually slim or anywhere near it) and it may not fit in any case.

 
What do you think, oh sage and sensible Reader?  I’m inclining to Option 3.  It comes with a host of questions like, oh f*** where do I get a navy/gold dress.  And I am not the sort of person that wants to stand out: if I were gorgeous and had ‘tude, I might be happy wearing red for instance.  I am not that woman, I aspire to fitting in.  Which I sometimes think is pretty synonymous with fitting in a size 10-12 but given that I’ve failed that one, I’d kinda like to fit in as best as is possible otherwise.
 
The other “formal” night is a masked ball – so my deep sea-green dress with gold wrap and a gold mask is what I’m thinking.  I need quite a few inches shortening off the bottom as it’s full-length and I want them converting into straps as the boning is rubbish.  I really need to a) try this on (again I bought it last summer) and b) given that it’s a kind of wafty column dress, think about whether I should belt it or whether I’d just look like a big pillow with a belt round the middle.  Short girls in full length is not a winner in my opinion.
 
Had two good starve days and two not-so-bad weekend days.  We’ll see how the non-starve days pan out – they need to be moderate and not hedonistic.  Tomorrow’s the first one.  I need to keep those dresses in mind.

Breaking radio silence

Silence is never really golden in blogland.  Unless you mean the wrapping of an Easter Lindt bunny!  Yes, I have one; no, I haven’t eaten it yet.  Yet.
 
I certainly won’t be winning gold for my endeavours.  I seem to be doing really badly recently.  First of all I was being perfect on starve days but eating far too much on non-starve days: not great.  But recently I have been even worse and despite starting well on a starve day, have caved in and eaten wildly and recklessly.  Take last night (the worst example to date): my plans were to have a soup and some popchips for lunch (just under 330 cals) and then some mooli wraps for supper in the cinema (145 cals).  I’d have been nicely under the 500 calories.  But what actually happened was that someone bought several bags of sweeties and I ate so many fruit pastilles and tooty fruities that when I got to the cinema I bought and ate half a tub of pick and mix, then went home and ate a crème egg and a bag of popcorn in a kind of ‘ah sod it, I’ve botched it royally already’ gestrure.  I suspect I more than doubled my calorie allocation.
 
Today is another starve day.  I know it’s going to be especially tough due to the obscene amounts of sugar I ate yesterday (my teeth are still sensitive from it).  But I have to get on track.  It’s just one day; tomorrow I will be at my friend’s wedding so whilst I won’t be eating anything as dreadful as pick and mix (unless they have a sweetie bar which I doubt.  But I would LOVE to go to a wedding with a sweetie bar – as unwise as that would be), I will be eating pudding and cake and drinking wine.  That’s normally just a bit OTT for a weekend but there we go; weddings are special occasions.  I don’t drink to excess and even the food will be in controlled portion sizes.  I have a lot of Easter chocolate but am actually eating it at a moderate speed.  Nonetheless, next week I will have to be very strict on both starve and non-starve days.  And there’s nothing at the moment that should get in the way of that.  At least, nothing social, of course - I still have to dust off my willpower and get it fired up.  It’s never exactly been state-of-the-art or even terribly reliable but it needs to start proving its very existence.
 
Because it’s only 7 weeks to our honeymoon.  Yes, the one where I have to have a slightly daunting wardrobe (for the first part of it – the liner across to New York).  I bought 2 full length dresses, one of which I’m positive wont’ fit and I have two other dresses which I know won’t fit.  Can I get back into them in 7 weeks?  I’ve got to try, even if it’s doomed to failure.

Down but not out

Thanks for the support.  Bloody dieting, why isn't it as easy as the women's mags would have you believe?  You know, you stop eating McDonalds for breakfast and lunch and a huge takeaway for supper and give up your daily bars of chocolate and crisps and hey presto, a mere few months later you're a grinning size 10.  Hmm.

Clearly that is not and never has been me.  I eat pretty frugally and get miserly results - if anything.  But given that the option is to carry on carrying on or to eat everything in sight and end up as a Channel 4 documentary narrated by a dour Geordie, carrying on it is.

Not that I've weighed myself recently, nor can I feel any discernable change in my clothes.  In fact I went shopping for a dress to wear to a friend's wedding in a couple of weeks and couldn't find a dress in Coast to fit me.  It was not a nice experience as I'd seen one I'd entertained vague hopes for and I could not find the heart to try anywhere else - I slunk home feeling very sorry for myself.  And what's even more annoying is that I have the savagely sized Vivien of Holloway one which would be perfect but is now too small.  I'm starting to get very nervous about finding suitable clothes for the liner.  I keep counting up on my fingers how many weeks and wondering how much I could lose.  Which is absurd as I don't think I'm achieving anything at the moment.  But you know how it goes as you bargin with the god of maths (who is in collusion with the god of diets).

Still, as that irritating little man said (loftily), there are rules of physics and several studies which show that if I'm doing what I said I am, I must therefore lose weight.  Grrrr.

Funnily enough, I am worried I eat too much on my non-starve days so that's a place to cut down (Seren, I know you sweetly suggested the contrary).  I'm still being exemplary on starve days - hold the gold star, just give me some lardage off please.  I do use fitness pal so I know absolutely that I come in under the 500 calorie mark on starve days.  I try to do 3 of these a week but occasionally it's 2.  Today P asked me not to do a starve day as I'm ill - if ever there were a get out of jail card!  I appreciate his concern but it's starve all the way today.  I can't afford any wavering or deviation if I'm to fully enjoy my honeymoon.  Okay, realistically I know that I'll still be - and feel - fat but I'd like at least to fit into the few dresses I have rather than running round like a lunatic at the last minute and buying stuff I hate and that makes me feel bad.  It's a loose plan.  It's the best I can do at the moment.

Fat and fiction

I’m tired.  Tired of being fat.  Tired of putting in this level of effort and feeling like I’ve been punched every time I get on the scales.  Tired of worrying about social occasions which should be fun but seem traumatic because I cannot work out how to look nice, what to buy and wear.  Tired of shopping trips where having to look at myself in the mirror makes me wince and leaves me demoralised.  Tired of not getting the most out of life because I’m perpetually dieting or worrying about dieting (usually both).
 
I put on two stone from mid November to post Christmas.  Since then I’ve been dieting hard.  Last time I weighed myself I had lost 2lbs – it was over a 10 day period but I was encouraged.  Until I weighed myself this morning after another 10 days and found I’d put 1.5lbs of that back on.  I’ve not been this fat for ages; nothing fits and I absolutely hate myself.  I was uncomfortable and self-conscious 2 stone lighter but now it’s almost unbearable.  And it feels like there’s nothing I can do.
 
I was initially quite pleased that I was going to see my metabolic specialist this morning.  He’s lovely and I thought at the very least, I could find out whether he thought this intermittent fasting was likely to be a good thing.  I’ve worked on the premise that it keeps my rotten metabolism guessing – and since that’s what we have agreed the problem is, it ought to work for me.
 
But he wasn’t there; instead I saw one of his colleagues.  I’m sure he was a nice man but he had no empathy at all and left me feeling absolutely wretched.  Essentially he told me that there was nothing wrong with my metabolism, in fact fat people’s metabolisms were higher (I know this is the norm, I am not that norm).  He told me that “the laws of physics” meant that if I dieted I would lose weight.  He suggested that I am either lying about what I eat or eating without knowing (presumably in my sleep).  I know this is wrong but it makes me feel belittled.  He suggested a few things, all of which I’ve tried in the past with no success.  I can’t realistically see why I’d get a different outcome from the same set of circumstances.  But he thought intermittent fasting was quite a good idea.  So that’s something I suppose.  He’s also suggested Orlistat – again, I’ve tried this (with unpleasant side effects) and it didn’t do anything.  I wanted to leave and go home, get into bed, pull the covers over my head and cry.  Instead I came into work like a good girl (I’m SO tired of that too) and am trying not to cry here.  I also wanted to eat – out of misery and fury – but I’m on a starve day and am sticking to it.
 
My overwhelming feeling – apart from tiredness – is fear.  I know I cannot be happy looking like this; I can’t be happy fat – but if I can’t be slimish, does that mean I can never be happy?  I don’t think I can.

The 500

I have had three very successful (and tough) stave days this week and two moderate days - so a big tick for me.  Now just the slightly more hedonistic weekend days to come - hurrah!

I've done some more research and it seems to be recommended to leave a longer period of fasting - I've decided to go from dinner on a normal day to lunch the following day and then both lunch and dinner (and anything else) needs to add up to no more than 500 calories.  It's no picnic.  Because no self-respecting picnic would come in on so few calories.  And, dear Reader, because it's not a great deal of fun.  But it's bearable and do-able and if I can add succcessful to that, I will be content and stoic.  I kind of feel it ought to work since it operates by tricking my metabolism into perpetual uncertainty.  Let's face it: my metabolism is my enemy.  If it weren't so slothful I would say it's tricksy

Of course the proof of the virtual pudding is in the er, weighing.  No, I've not done that yet.  I keep trying to convince myself that my clothes feel looser.  Not well-fitting, or - nirvana - loose but maybe looser.  Maybe.  I really need to brave SoD tomorrow.

It's been a long week workwise too.  A lot of work and not enough time to do it in.  And that second interview - in which I still didn't determine whether I want the job or not.  Still, that may not be a decision I have to make!