Lady Dye

It’s a strange and recent phenomenon that heroines in books are often slightly clumsy (yeah, I’m looking at you Twilight but you’re not the only culprit here) and that their clumsiness is charming, endearing – even slightly attractive. As is so often the case, life does not imitate art. And I don’t mean the whole beautiful-people-are-really-vampires thing (although clearly....). The other day I woke up – slightly later than my alarm had gone off – with a compelling urge to use a box of root cover-up on my hair. I can’t say I really needed it – it was more that it was taking up room in the cupboard. I mixed it up, dunked the brush in the dye and... flipped the entire content of the auburn dye all over the carpet. A lot of it fell in my slipper (a chocolate brown ballet pump, so no big drama) but a large dollop and a fetching series of splatters fell on the gold colour carpet. Now, it may be like hair and it will fade out completely over the next 6 weeks – but somehow I doubt it. Attempts to clear it up seemed to just give a halo effect to the larger, darker splotches.

The carpet is old and needs replacing but this is not the way I would have chosen the time to do this (especially as it’s a carpet that goes throughout the flat). And curiously, bf categorically did not find it charming, endearing or remotely attractive. He did not chuckle and hug me, he did not become protective at my inate whimsicaly girliness - he just wondered why I hadn’t put down an old towel. In retrospect I wondered that too. Our Saturday is going to be spent, stressfully, in a very small en suite attempting to take up carpet and lay floor tiles. And I have very dubious DIY genes and a tendency to panic and bf has a tendency to irritation (although also luckily is super-practical).

Btw, carpet in a bathroom is lunacy. We didn’t put it there, the developers did. I'm directing my hate towards them.

Supertanker

As is so often the case (sigh) WI was not a happy experience. My first week back on the straight and narrow has resulted in a ¾ lb gain. I suspect I am like a supertanker and me hauling frantically on the wheel won’t elicit a swift, smart 3 point turn.

But I am wondering if it’s time to think of another diet. Yes, yet another flipping diet. SW seems to work so well for everyone else but in the last 6 months I have put ON 3lbs. Okay, I’m just back from holiday and that is bound to show an upward blip (blimp?), but if we put that aside, the stats are then I lost 6lbs in 5 months. Not really covering myself in glory there, am I? In fact, there wouldn’t even be enough glory for a nipple cover.

I hate change and I have grown to fear the feeling when you start a new diet, all zealous and hopeful – only to have the hope sucked out by that old leech, SoD. So I'm reluctant but it's clear that I'm getting nowhere fast and with just over a year to the wedding, I have to get going on some results.

Bf heard the Food Programme on the radio on Sunday and it was about the calorie; he came back saying that I really should listen to it as he thought it would interest me. We finally got round to listening to it last night and it was really interesting (I recommend a listen on i-player). As part of the programme, they interviewed Zoe Harcombe who had some insights into how we become fat and guess what, she has her own diet book. Essentially she was agreeing with Gary Taubes’ book The Diet Delusion (and similar) by saying that the problems we face are caused by over-reliance on carbs. I do kind of buy into this – it intuitively makes sense to me, much as I’ve enjoyed pasta and rice whilst on SW.

Of course, the book reviews on Amazon are glowing in the vast majority, but I am stamping down hard on any flickering of hope – it’s too cruel when it doesn’t work out and my fear is that it does sound a bit like the Idiot Proof Diet which I put ON weight with.

Until the book arrives, I’ll carry on with SW and then I think I’ll give Harcombe a whirl. I think about wedding dresses and I'm terrified - it has to be worth a try. No amount of industrial underwear is going to make me look half decent at the moment but I’ll be definitely employing that tactic. What’s the expression? Can’t fit a pint in a quart pot? Quite. Not even with a very grippy pot.

Pancake panic

My metabolism is not the only slow thing about my stomach: it’s clearly a bit thick too (figures when you see it I guess!) It seems to have just realised that its access to pancakes has stopped. And this is particularly slow on the uptake as I last had pancakes for breakfast a fortnight last Sunday (there was no choice of breakfast in Bar Harbor – it was all delicious though – otherwise I’d have continued to have pancakes every day). At least, I assume this is the reason that I am so hungry at the moment.

My breakfast is now a slice of homemade wholemeal toast with a bit of homemade smoked salmon pate (thanks for that idea – I reckon I only use about 30g of Philly Extra Light a day so I’m way under my HEA. Or B - or whatever), a grapefruit and a big fruit salad with Total 0% Greek yoghurt. Okay, I’d rather be having blueberry pancakes but not too shabby all the same! I do use my Healthy Extras all at once but that can’t be too bad. I sometimes have a small skinny cappuccino too as I’m aware I’m way under my calcium Healthy Extra (which is 70g of Light Philly (not Extra Light). Then I have leftovers or soup or a jacket potato with cottage cheese or ratatouille (homemade) or a beanpot – all with naked salad and a fat free yoghurt. And a variety of things for dinner but I think we’re moving towards slow-cooker territory (I fancy venison, mushroom and shallot this weekend). As ever, I eat a lot of fruit and a little chocolate (counted). This is my formula for success up until Christmas – only 9 ½ weeks! I’d like to lose 9lbs by then – the weight I put on in the US and a bonus lb. I really need to make some headway.

But I saw myself side on today and I realise I’ve got a VERY long way to go before I could even contemplate myself in a wedding dress. And – with my metabolism – not a great amount of time to lose enough weight to look halfway decent. Not to mention the whole ‘second hand dresses mostly being 8s or 10s’ problem (not somewhere I think I could EVER get to). If only anxiety caused weight loss in me rather than the urge (stifled – barely) to mainline sugar.

WI tomorrow....

What ho chums

Yes, I'm back - without causing too much mirth with my odd use of the English (read American) language. Although I did have to explain the word 'niggle' to a very amused and bemused airport official. Apart from that, I was entirely free of mainlining an Enid Blyton plucky heroine. In fact, bf was worse than me as I distinctly heard him say "T'riffic" several times (if I'm Blyton-esque, he was clearly inspired by Dick Van Dyck in Gor-blimey Mary Poppins).

The people - in New England at any rate - were SO lovely. It was an eye opener to see what a service industry can be like - friendly, helpful people! Really! If they eye-rolled, they did so out of sight - impressive self-control. And I was press-ganged in the most friendly way in New Hampshire into to drinking inordinate amounts of coffee (of many wierd and wonderful flavours) as I handled the inevitable question "So, where are you from? London? I LOVE London". Well, London (or at least this speck of it) loves you right back, baby! We oohed and ahhed at the beautiful variety of leaf colour ("Don't they have trees in England?" Well yes, but not flame red ones generally), did several heavy duty hikes and learnt to fear the words "combo platter" (bf was horrified by the size when he ordered it. Really. I think he's still mentally scarred) and learnt to order what was clearly considered to be puny portions (my last breakfast in New Hampshire I was asked sorrowfully if that was "all" I wanted. Twice. Reader, it was a large muffin (delicious - not nearly as cakey as the ones over here and raspberry and walnut, yum). And yes, that was all.)

So, after many a pancake (again, I learnt to order off the 'healthy' menu in New Hampshire which meant one pancake the size of a dinner plate, rather than two which it nearly killed me trying to eat on day 1), 2 whoopie pies, some cupcakes, several burgers (I left at least half the bread), fries - both sweet potato and regular, a couple of lobster rolls and a variety of peanut butter flavoured confectionery, what did SoD have to say about all this hedonism? Well, you can imagine my fear, especially since bf remarked dolefully that he was convinced he'd put on at least a stone. 8lbs on. Not bad, given that I put that much on in a weekend in Devon. Of course, it's going to take me until Christmas to lose that - and that's with a fair wind behind me. But it's done. And it could have been so much worse.

I think what saved me from a greater gain was some restraint on my part (believe it or not!), refusing to eat anything I didn't really like after a bite (often leaving poor bf feeling he had to eat it), not drinking a lot and those hikes. We did 4 and 3 were pretty damn tough. We learnt not to call it walking as it confused our American fellow guests who told us that 'walking' meant half a mile on the flat to the shops. And hey, hiking sounds SO much more impressive. And accurate tbh - the trails were tough - constant climbing over tree roots, scrambling over or around rocks and/or through streams. For our first walk in Acadia, we decided to ease our way in. Then bf got hold of a walk book. "Do you fancy a 4 mile mountain walk?". I did - with some trepidation - before I fell in that it was 4 miles to the flipping top and then I had to come down again! I only got up there by promising myself I'd get the bus down. Or possibly live at the top. Of course, I walked back down but I was shattered. Then the next day we climbed another mountain - and I do mean climbed/scrambled. Then we did a 8 mile circuit of 2 trails the next day where hunters shot alarmingly close to my deer-coloured hair.

We loved New England and will definitely go back. I didn't love New York though - I guess it was just a big city to me and I much prefer the countryside, that's all. We weren't intending to shop (although we did a bit) which seems to be the point of NY and we were staying in a dodgy part of Harlem. I tend to over-dramatise when I'm a bit freaked out but it was bf who wrote down all our card details and passport nos before we went to try and find somewhere to eat on the first night, ignorant of where exactly we were and where we could go. "I think we have to accept we may well get mugged at some point" he said calmly. Seeing my stricken face, he added encouragingly "It will make a great story afterwards"! We didn't get mugged but it was not comfortable after dark - and we live in East London so are not exactly wide-eyed carrot-crunchers. And the B&B, although run by a charming and well meaning woman, was as if we were camped out in someone's spare room - someone who'd never actually been to an hotel. Pretty colour walls though. And it was intriguing to come back each night and see what furniture had been added and taken away.

Now all I've got to do is conquer the jet-lag (staying up 31 hours to get back to London time doesn't seem to have done it) and get back on the wagon and lose that 8lbs - then leave the Porky stone bracket behind me. All I've got to do....

I like to be in A-mer-ic-a, okay by me in A-mer-ic-a

I have actually sung this – last year. It’s surprisingly difficult as it’s so damn quick. And you kind of want to do the skirt swishing which is really Not The Done Thing in a choir.

Having researched temperatures and prepared and stressed over my packing list, it seems that the US is also experiencing warmer weather. I’m going to have to start from scratch. I don’t know what to pack and I’ve run out of time (although we go to Heathrow on Sunday night, ready to check in early on Monday morning, we’re off to Suffolk tonight until Sunday morning) to buy anything. Good for my bank balance, bad for my panic levels. Already I can’t remember what I wore in the summer and it’s all stuffed in a drawer under my bed! Eeeek.

I had bought a couple of cute spaghetti-strapped chemises to wear to bed – trying to re-style myself as someone more chic than a girl who wears a big t-shirt to bed. Well, that was a big fat failure – I looked like a cross-dressing bouncer. Surprisingly, this didn’t make me feel any more glamorous – rather less if anything. This retail splurge was all kicked off by a post on a wedding website posing a question I’d not even thought of – namely, what do you wear for the getting ready photos on your wedding day. What I’m confident I won’t be wearing is something that makes me look like the lovechild of an anaemic gorilla and a very butch games teacher, that’s for sure. Figleaves can have their frippery back along with my crushed hopes. Why is there nothing in between wisps of nothing, scratchy whore-wear, frumpsville extraordinaire or those ghastly twee things in the likes of M&S with simpering cartoon characters or ickle kittens? Sigh. I don’t think I’d suit a wispy chemise even if I were a size 12, to be honest.

So, crib list for not returning from US so heavy that we have to stop off and refuel the plane on the way home:
1. I don’t have to eat everything – not every choice, not everything on my plate and especially things I’m eating thinking “hmm, this isn’t actually all that”
2. Share wherever possible and certainly any starters or pudding. And make bf eat most of it (poor him)
3. Plenty of exercise (yes, I know it’s not supposed to make much difference but surely it must help)
4. Restraint. My appetite has not yet returned so I might get a booster here.

See you when I’m safely back in Blighty, comrades.

The long and the short of it

It's a hell of a way to go on a diet. Since Sunday I've been unable to stomach eating much at all (3 bowls of homemade chicken soup and some fruit is all I've had for 4 days) which is pretty much a first - I even watched the Great British Bake Off with no interest in gorging myself on their produce. I think it's a gastric flu bug since, after the nausea, dizziness and sweats, came an inability to leave the loo for fear of nastiness of biblical plague proportions. I had to send bf out on an emergency dash for more loo roll. It made Syrian dysentry look like a relatively pedestrian affair (although of much longer duration admittedly). But it meant that I was back to my pre-birthday weight of Porky.4 1/2 this morning. I suspect this is not a real weight since I'm so dehydrated that I barely need to visit the loo (just as well, we were getting rather sick of each other) as nothing is getting as far as my bladder. I keep saying to myself what a mercy it was that I wasn't like this on the plane. Ugh. It's scything through the office but I'm hoping bf will escape. He's convinced he will.

So either it's the lugy, or it's the hair I've lost that have given me the lower SoD reading. I cried when my mum swept it up in a dustpan and brush, filling it to the brim. I'm still not sure whether to keep it bobbed or grow it again. I can't get an opinion out of anyone - EVERYONE annoyingly says that they like it both ways. Bf, bless him, didn't even notice at first! Admittedly it was midnight and he was a bit pissed. He kept asking why I was staring at him - well, I was waiting for him to notice I'd had about 5" of hair off! He recovered well, saying that he only ever sees me when he looks at me. Good answer for a drunken man. Now he says it's pretty -and that he liked it before too. Arrrgghhh. But I did get chatted up on the tube this morning - maybe that's a sign......

Earning my crust

On SW you get a daily fibre option for ‘free’ (ie synless) – I’ve been using mine by eating two Alpen Light bars to date but recently I’ve dusted down my breadmaker to make my own wholemeal (the only bread allowed). I’m a bit nervous about it as it is, you know, BREAD. But I keep the sugar low and it’s got none of the additives, preservatives etc that you find in shop bread, just yeast, flour, salt, water and a little oil – and I’m sure it’s got to be healthier than Alpen Lights (sorry Alpen).

Although the allowance is for two small slices, I only allow myself one as I suspect I can’t slice it as thinly as factory bread – I’m being careful with this hitherto illicit substance. And I have it as a piece of toast in the morning. Which brings me on to a problem: I have to have butter (1tsp = a scrape which almost covers it = 2 syns) but then I have marmite (mmmmm). And much as I love marmite (and I DO), I’m aware that a carb ought to be balanced by protein – so, any ideas what to have? It has to be something I can eat whilst simultaneously putting on my make-up, getting dressed etc (no poached egg or similar. Not that I eat poached egg). And I fear peanut butter with a healthy and justified fear. All ideas gratefully received.

It’s actually WI today but for the first time ever I chickened out. Yesterday was bf’s birthday and I had probably 2/3 of a bottle of wine (out of 2 bottles, Reader, I didn’t guzzle the (boozer) lion’s share) and some Turkish food and I just was too scared to consult the scales. Next week, I promise. Although we have dinner out on Friday night to negotiate and bf was muttering about fish and chips (might see if he’ll re-think that one).

Thanks for the supportive gingerisms – especially as last week was a hard one in the Red World. I was outraged last week by a story in the Sun on an albino seal pup who had ginger fur – it showed him on a beach all alone and the text suggested that he had no friends because he was ginger! It’s unbelievable that that’s acceptable for a national ‘newspaper’ to publish. Then there was the sperm bank which won’t take ginger sperm. I tell you, if I were to be artificially inseminated, I would be DEMANDING ginger sperm, so there. Grrrr. You’d think they wouldn’t bait us so much, given the famous ginger temper.