When IS enough as good as a feast? Ever?!

So, long time, no post. Often a dearth of posts on anyone’s blog means badness, a general slow sliding off the wagon if you will. In my case it’s been stress, pure and simple (and I guess, nothing to say). As well as no shower and leaking boots (as referred to in my last post), I have been interviewed for a promotion. I find interviews unbelievably stressful – I think it’s the combination of my hating to be centre of attention and my lack of self-confidence which means I never think I’ve done anything worth mentioning. The night before the interview I was actually a millimetre away from outright hysteria and the day of it, my fight/flight mechanism was fully engaged and despite my hatred of running I could have done a very credible sprint over quite a distance – as long as it was in the opposite direction to the interview. I grew a socking great mouth ulcer as a reaction to all the stress (why oh WHY can’t I be one of those people who get skinny on stress? I would be wafer thin).

On Sunday (day before interview) I discovered that none of my jackets fit me. The people who were interviewing me know what I wear to work every day – and they ain’t jackets (usually a skirt and a knit) but I felt compelled to wear something smarter than usual. I trailed dispiritedly around cheap local shops but the only jackets I found were c£50 and looked really, really cheap, didn’t fit properly and I would never wear again. Bf practically marched me into Hobbs (with me whining that it was too expensive) and got me to buy a very pretty, fine silk cardi-top in an electric blue that he said would be “stunning” with [my red] hair” and “really showed off [my] hourglass shape”(!) – on the joint account. It’s not something I would have spent £50 on but it’s very nice (wore with navy skirt and lime cami-top underneath) and I do think I’ll get alot of wear out of it over the Spring (and let’s face it, probably the English summer too).

The interview was – okay. I wasn’t great but I don’t think I was terrible either. I went home and had a creme egg –aware that I was utterly reinforcing all the wrong instincts of eating as a treat and under stress. I don’t think that was why I didn’t enjoy it though – but I hope that will be enough to stop me eating another one this year. Anyway, apparently it was a very strong selection of candidates, all of whom did very well at interview but I did best and the job is mine. Cue instant terror. I love my current job and I won’t get much more money for the new one, despite it being a promotion - but I do hope I make a reasonable job of it. Beth bought me THE most exquisite chocolates as a congratulations gift (only 8, she’s not trying to fatten me up(further)) and I have eaten ‘only’ 4 – can’t tell you how badly I wanted them all.

And – talking of resisting – I am now sitting here opposite two boxes of doughnuts and a box of cupcakes. I only want them because they’re sugar, I don’t even really like Krispy Kremes and the cakes are not great looking. And yet, it’s very hard to resist. I’ve walked over and looked at them twice. Why is this so hard?

Which brings me on to – my caption for today, when is enough as good as a feast? And how can I get to that stage? Earlier in the week a colleague baked a tray of millionaire’s shortbread. Now, being home-made (and on a day when I’d had to call the plumber in to disable our permanently flowing shower), there was no question of resisting THOSE. They were cut up very small but I had 4..4!! Okay, when I calmed down, I realised that was probably only the size of one (slightly large) piece but the sugar was enough to make my heart hammer. It’s like I’ve had too much coffee – that effect – but caused by sugar rather than caffeine. It’s not pleasant or comfortable – and it is worrying – but I STILL wanted more. It’s like I have no ‘off’ switch, no satiety point, no end to my greed.

I am trying to work on this but any tips would be great. Now at least 2 hours past arrival of doughnuts and I haven’t eaten one but I am going out tonight for dinner with bf (a very rare event) and afternoon tea with friends on Sunday. So I need to balance this out a bit. Think I can resist pudding tonight – and it’s a fish restaurant so can make healthy choices easily enough (we usually have a shellfish platter) but of course will have a glass of wine. Tomorrow will be perilously close to a Ben’s Cookies but will try my hardest to resist in anticipation of some sort of treat in the tearoom on Sunday. My resistance muscle isn’t even a muscle, it’s so puny. And I’m on a work trip next week from Monday afternoon to Wednesday evening which may include some goodies.

To remind me of the need to build some resistance muscle however, I have a proper bra on. I think I’m actually half a stone heavier than I ought to be to wear it but my cheapo M&S really doesn’t fit (or flatter) and I have a fitted top on that needs some proper cantilevering of bosom. I may regret this later and to this end, I have actually chucked the M&S one in my bag in case the pain gets too much.

Gratitude trio:
1. I’ve had some really amazing and touching support from some former colleagues in other depts who have urged (and even bullied) me on in getting this job, offering all kinds of help, support and advice. Feel really humbled by this.
2. Beth’s floral creams – rose, violet, lavender and geranium, mmmmmm.
3. A better weekend to look forward to including lunch with Naughty R (sporting a purple-plastercast after binge drinking episode and no doubt STILL looking gorgous!), the purchase of boots that don’t allow water to sodden my socks and a trip out for history and tea.

Crackers about cheese (Gromit)

The other night Beth and I went on a cheese tasting night (bf cried off because he lost the best part of a tooth and was not feeling chirpy). It was in a very swish club where I was the fattest and scruffiest person there. Possibly the fattest and scruffiest person who ever darkened its doors, actually. The couple across from me whispered and smirked at me (no, not paranoia!). The man leading the cheese tasting – a maitre de fromage if you will – was a bizarre combination of cross-dressing Jilly Goolden and the farmer from Babe. Luckily, he didn’t say to me “That’ll do, pig”. Although well he might have done. I ate at least a teeny bit of every cheese (although I almost spat out the sliver of cheese that looked like fudge but tasted like earwax) and had seconds of 3 or 4. I had half a biscuit. And 3 glasses of wine, maybe 4. And a Ben’s cookie beforehand and a sub-standard cookie (by comparison) that came with my tea. And something from the snack table every day. Yep, once I’m on that sugar rollercoaster I find it SO hard to get off. Even if the rest of my meal choices were good, I think I have had some illicit goodie every day since Saturday. But I was still very sad today when the Scales of Doom declared me 4lbs fatter than 10 days ago.

It contributed to my general return to the miasma of unhappiness that had seemed to be lifting. I don’t know – much in the way of chicken and egg- what comes first: the weight gain or the awareness of how unhappy I am with pretty much every aspect of myself. But I do know the craziness of my impulse to ‘treat’ myself better with cookies/chocolate whilst still badly wanting to do it. I stopped taking St John’s Wort for about 4 days but I don’t think that can really have had such a dramatic effect – when I’ve finished taking this box I’m stopping it anyway as I can’t take my migraine medication at the same time. I’ve been out for a brisk walk every day to get some exercise and sunlight. Does the sugar make me unhappy or does the effect of it make me unhappy? Or is there no link there at all? I don’t know.

Today started with my shower not turning off (no word from the plumber either), a spat with bf over this, the discovery that my boots leak and are still wet from yesterday and being late to work. My weekend holds – work. Things will get better.

Schnozz unusual

My love is like a red, red nose.....

My nose looks inoffensive - it's not the adorable retrousse, beloved of female romance writers, it's not an emphatic Roman nor a bulbous splodge. It looks - ordinary. But looks can be deceptive. I clearly have some bloodhound in my genetic make up - thankfully I have neither the droopy eyes or ears but I do have a super-sense of smell. It's a mixed blessing - my old office used to joke that I could track a colleague by smell if we didn't know where they were (er, ugh!) and we had the crisp challenge where they'd open a bag behind the desk divide and I'd have to name that crisp flavour in one. And bf said that if I told people that I could smell Spring coming and how hard water is, that I'd be locked up in a straitjacket (ha, but on an anonymous blog, you'd have to find me first!). It means I can take against things - banana skins cause me to want to vomit for example (or even bananas which have been artifically heated and ripened in supermarkets). And now I discover that LL has had a profound effect on my conk: it has RUINED me for McDonalds milkshakes, the smell alone whizzes me straight back to LL days. And I found that the cauliflower cheese soup I virtuously whizzed up the other weekend reminds me queasily of their "vegetable" soup. Damn, damn, damn.

I am part way through my sin experiences. No, not a coy soft porn reference to a Valentine's Day extravaganza but to the brunch, VD food (no, not a sexual disease - Valentine's Day again - although, it can't just be coincidence that they share the same initials...), pancake day and cheese tasting. The brunch was good and bad - I really enjoyed my American pancakes and maple syrup (but not the pain au chocolate I really ate to be polite - I know, daft huh?) and the influx of carbs sent my blood sugar on a roller coaster. VD meal was very abstemious - all pretty much SB compliant except the pudding I'd chosen purely because it was the lowest calorie option and seemed most harmless (pannacotta with raspberries) but half a bottle of fizz, a glass and a half of red and that pudding meant I woke up this morning starving hungry and with a cracking headache - now how is THAT fair? I have pretty much not thrown the baby out with the bath water (of all the bizarre expressions!) and stuck to the diet in between times, despite the Creme Eggs which are EVERYWHERE singing softly and beguilingly at me. But today another team had a bake-off where I was required (no, really) to try a bit of 5 cakes and declare my favourite. I managed to just have slithers of 4 but they were all chocolate and I ended up back at my desk with my heart literally hammering from the sugar dump. It was quite scary to have such a strong reaction - as if I'd drunk a huge amount of strong coffee. Btw, the cake with the Maltesers baked into the mix was my favourite - GENIUS!

I am going to try Splenda on my pancakes tomorrow - I am not optimistic but will give it a go. I like them really lemony so may not notice the artifical taste too much....

Three things to feel grateful for yesterday:

1. Bf - do love him and what better time to think that than VD with Ella on the stereo and a glass of wine?
2. My jeans are definitely feeling a little baggy - hurrah! Might be delusion but then again.... On the other hand I tried on one of my 'proper' bras - it only started hurting after 6 hours so a bit of an improvement but still some way off.
3. Enforced walk (bf's idea) to nearest shopping area (c2.5 miles away) to pick up a few groceries and have a coffee (skinny cappuccino for me, white mocha latte for him) - it's not a pretty walk but it was good to burn a few calories nonetheless and get some 'fresh', cold, damp air.

Normal service will now resume

So, this is - essentially - a dieting blog, right? I'll get back to writing about that today then. Although I guess that emotional upheaval does actually play all too big a part in the dieting stuff - for me, anyway. Quite how I address that long-term, I'm just not sure.

Yesterday I spent most of the day travelling to a meeting. This meant that I had breakfast (porridge and blueberries) at 7.20am and I bought a skinny cappuccino to take on to the train. I also bought a salad to take along in case they produced nasty sarnies for lunch. I got to the other end and after a wander about (in the snow!) I arrived for the meeting at 11.30am. I refused biscuits and hoped they couldn't hear my stomach growling. I finally got to eat my salad at 4pm on the train coming back to London! It was small and I left the potatoes. I got home, still starving, and ate a 3 egg omelette with LF cheese and mushrooms (made by bf so it came out beautifully and not like my own hybrid omelette/scrambled eggs) with green salad and tomatoes, some stewed rhubarb with FF yoghurt and 2 small pieces of dark chocolate. I felt very pleased that I had managed not to eat for all that time.

Then today I was STILL hungry. On top of my usual food I have eaten 9 chocolates (part of the M&S meal deal which I couldn't resist buying) and 10 mini gummy bears. It feels like a betrayal - of myself. Why couldn't I prolong yesterday's good behaviour longer than a day? Especially knowing the opportunities to eat non-diet food that are ahead of me. Salad for dinner then....

Yesterday morning, Scales of Doom had said I'd lost 1lb - not fantastic but not disasterous - I reminded myself that next week might be a disappointment.

Three things to feel grateful for yesterday:
1. The managing not to eat for so long - despite feeling really quite odd by the time I did get to. I felt kind of empowered. Which brings us to....
2. My mum has suddenly got all empowered herself and has stopped feeling miserable (although I bet she still is), has got mad and is kicking ass - go her!
3. The re-emergence of Naughty R - we kind of lost touch for a few months and it's so nice to have her back with her own brand of pithy wisdom (this is not a girl for soft-soaping, she calls it like she sees it and it always makes me laugh!)

Warning: rant ahead

There ought to be a road symbol for that. Perhaps a triangle with an angry face in the middle and steam coming out of the ears!

The email war continues, my brother sent my mum another stinker last night saying that unless she apologises (what for, we ask) that he will tell his daughters that their grandmother doesn't care about them. Pretty low.

Then my mum found an email from the chav-in-law. She thinks she's clever but oh dear, far from it. In it she put that she had had to ban me from her life as I'm "bitter and jealous". I have to say I'm having a red-headed fit about this. Jealous? Of what?
Her long plastic square nails?
Her tranny-slapper clothes?
Her nose job?
Her perma-orange skin?
Her fake tits (as paid for by brother 2 despite him saying no)?
Her stupidity?
Her inability to string a sentence together without a grammatical error, spelling mistake or malapropism ("you don't have to be physic to know...")?
Her sweet disposition that leads her to throw an utterly fishwife temper tantrum if anyone ever says 'no' to her?
The way she treats my mother as a nanny/au pair? Ignoring her utterly unless there's someone else to see her and expecting her to fetch, carry and dedicate her life to making the CIL's life easy and as responsibility-free as a single girl?
Her fine moral code that led to her shagging my brother when he was married (to a lovely woman)?
Her getting herself knocked up accidentally-on-purpose to trap him?
Her threatening to take his daughters away and never let him see them if he didn't marry her?
Her harsh treatment and jealousy of her 4 year old daughter?
Or perhaps the level of style that led to her coming down the aisle to a Ministry of Sound "chill-out classic"?

I so want to email her and tell her - and brother 2 - this but my mother has made me promise not to. It absolutely enrages me that they can think for an instant that there is anything about that trashy thicko that I would want for a single instant.

Grrrrr.

Sugar lips

I am being sorely tested. On many levels - but it all comes down to food. Or sugar, to be precise. My brother’s shocking insults (thanks for the support, btw, it’s really appreciated) make me want to eat to console myself with a great deal of chocolate, cakes, cookies, sweets.... Badly. I have just bought a Bens Cookie each for me and my mum tonight (I am going over there) and now I have to resist it all afternoon. I actually ate a M&S cube cake and didn’t enjoy it and it didn’t make me feel any better- this makes me want to try another thing, and another, and another until I hit on the thing that makes me feel better. Intellectually I know that food can’t do this but it’s a hard sell (to myself).

And I have a series of lovely – but foodie – events coming up. Saturday we are meeting bf’s parents for brunch – I’ve checked the menu and the only thing I want is pancakes and bacon (I don’t like the English fry up breakfasts). And actually I’m not bothered by the bacon, which always seem weird to me with pancakes – I have to eat them separately one at a time – I just want the pancakes. Then Sunday is Valentine’s Day – we’ll probably just get some nice fish to cook at home but I foresee some calorie challenges just the same (booze, pudding). Tuesday is Pancake Day (I like mine with a little sugar and a LOT of lemon so could be worse) and Wednesday we’re going to a cheese and wine tasting. The challenge is to maintain discipline around these events and not to treat it as a week’s (or more) holiday from the diet and eat everything in sight. Or to start that now. Depressingly, it only takes a small slip like this and I will put back on all that weight – possibly more. So I have to grit my teeth, enjoy the foodie diversions but not be diverted from the diet more than is necessary. It’s a lesson I need to learn – life will occasionally get in the way of dieting. I’m going to need all the help I can get.

I’m still feeling very sad (and, weirdly, ashamed) regarding Brothergate. I cannot imagine that I will ever want anything to do with him ever again and I have such a small family anyway. It’s more the loss of his eldest daughter (who’s 4). Her sister (2) is, I’m afraid, less of a loss since the chav blood ran very strongly in her – her most frequently utterance was the whine “But I WANT it”. But I will miss the elder niece. The Chav-in-law was always pretty mean to her – she seems to see her as competition for attention – and she is SO like my mum it’s uncanny and rather sensitive. I always felt she might need some special attention - and a bolthole when she’s older. I had hoped to be able to help her. I hope there’s someone else to do this for her since I won’t be able to. Brother 2 has made it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me anyway – he told my mother that he ripped up the card I sent him for his birthday like he was terribly proud of himself. Did I mention that he’s 36?

Three things to feel grateful for from yesterday:
1. You guys! You’re the best.
2. Lovely trip to see snowdrops and winter gardens
3. Bf changed all the bedding, unsolicited! AND put the right pillowcases on too!

Sticks and stones

How would you describe me in a word? Or two? I know you don't know me in the 'real world', most of you, so maybe that's why I believe that your description wouldn't be "that fat bitch". But that is what my brother called me on the vitriolic emails he sent my mother. She showed them to me yesterday and I was taken aback at the level of spite and nastiness directed at me - I had not been involved in events and whilst I knew (and was upset by) how nasty he'd been to my mother, had not realised that I had been blamed for unduly influencing her to behave in such a way (he thought she'd criticised the Chav-in-law (aka the Parasite)). She had simply explained about a pattern of behaviour that had made her feel hurt, sidelined and not respected. She tells me she was very careful not to use emotive language or to criticise the CIL. Apparently he listened to this but then sent two scorching emails of abuse and bile in which I featured heavily.

Isn't it funny how something so childish, from someone who is behaving like a toddler in a temper tantrum can still hurt so much and for so long? I can't currently see how I can ever forgive him for this. And I know that the language and his very stance was heavily influenced by my fishwife of a CIL but the fact remains that he pressed send. From his work email address where he is a Vice President. Bf is in favour of contacting them about this abuse of the email system but since the emails were to my mother, this is not my decision.

It made me feel small (ironically perhaps) and sad and diminished - that that phrase summed me up. That that's how he - and possibly the world - sees me, despite the effort I put into being a different person. And he'd cc'd Brother 1 in so he's seen that's how Brother 2 sees me. And my mum sent them to my aunt for an opinion. It all makes me cringe with shame.

I don't feel inclined to finish this post with my three things to feel grateful for but perhaps it's more important than ever that I do try and find some positives, so:

1. Pleasant walk with my mother and the labs around Leeds Castle
2. Bf unequivocally on my side - thought I might face accusations of being too thin-skinned (which I am) but no, he said "anyone would be upset by those" - I sneakily sent him the emails.
3. Enormous display of love from bruiser chocolate lab - slightly painful but v endearing.