Monday, 27 March 2017

Lard be scone

I had a plan.  An ambitious plan, sure, but an achievable one.  Or so I thought.  My aim was to lose a stone before our holiday in May.  I had two months (8 weeks, to be exact)  to do that.  Now I have seven weeks.  The first week went okay.  I’m doing my bit – but SoD is not pulling his weight.  I’m sure the Scales of Doom are male – surely any female inanimate object would be more empathetic?

To put this in context, I’m freaked out by this morning’s WI.  And, other than Easter, this was likely to be the most challenging weekend so I need to try not to panic (or, fatalistically, give up) just yet.  We cushioned our filial duties this weekend by gin, wine and tapas on Friday and a bottle of fizz last night.  Last night’s bottle (no supper) was, frankly, medicinal.  But I still had alcohol three times – normally I would only allow myself to have it once.  And we had three meals out.  Still, that doesn’t explain the reason that little git said I’d put on 5.5lbs since Friday morning.

Today is a starve day so I’m hoping that extraordinary gain will be tempered by a larger loss than usual (6lbs would be a start). I’m certainly hungry enough to merit some pay back.  And I’m still shooting for that stone.  To be honest, even a stone won’t help me feel less self-conscious on holiday – and the thought of the beach makes my heart rate speed up and my shoulders tense up.  It won’t get my into my nice summer skirts.  But on the basis that every little helps, I’m hoping that it will make for a slightly less anxious holiday.  At least I’ll have done my best.  Like my wedding, I know, hand on heart that I really, really tried; the fact that I was still fat and didn’t look great, was not because I didn’t put the effort in, and whilst that makes me sad, it doesn’t make me angry with myself.

Apart from the odd evening meeting up with friends, the only hurdle to manage in the next seven weeks are some friends from the US coming over and being in London the Easter weekend.  In an attempt to cram as many quintessentially British food experiences in, P has drawn up a schedule which includes lunch at a rather lovely pub in Kent (I’ll be driving so at least no booze for me), a cream tea at our place and a roast dinner (beef).  I need to practice both Yorkshire puddings and scones – both of which I’ve had problems with in the past.  My Yorkshires determinedly solder themselves to the pan and my scones are rather biscuity.  The latter is particularly weird as I make (though I do say so myself) rather spectacular cheese and sweetcorn scones.  Maybe it’s the rolling and cutting that causes them to refuse to rise.  Anyone got any advice or idiotproof recipes?

Anyway, all this food chat is making my stomach growl ferociously and I’d better stop before people think there’s a rabid dog on the loose.  Actually, I’m slathering a bit too.....

Wednesday, 8 March 2017

Previously on munter to minx....

I’m not sure I’m back yet.  I left because I thought I was being irritatingly moany and morose and that you, dear Reader, deserved more.  By deserving less of me.  Well, I deserve less of me too – more of which, later.

I am tip-toeing back and dipping that toe into the water.  Has anything changed?  No.  I’m still at roughly my pre Lighterlife weight.  I am still doing two starve days a week, mostly with success that never quite translates into anything encouraging on my old pal, Scales of Doom.  Nothing lasting at any rate.

I’m also back to low-carbing – essentially because I have now pretty much exhausted all the diets so am on a second (or third or fourth or...) pass around.  And because I felt best on it.  And that has worked in that my blood sugar levels are pretty damn exceptional.  But I cannot rejoice in this until it also means a steady downward trajectory on SoD.

Not least because we’re going on holiday in May.  We were going to Iran which, pleasingly, would have required me to be covered from wrist to ankle.  And whilst that had a set of problems, they were generally ones that could be answered with a bit of patient ebaying.  But, you know, Trump, and a couple of other things that made us pull out.  We had paid a deposit though and rather than lose it all, we transferred it to another holiday (there was a £60 fee because OF COURSE there was but at least we didn’t lose the lot).  So, we’re going to Jordan.  It’s as part of an organised group because that’s what this holiday company offers (and Americans, Canadians and Brits have to go to Iran as part of an organised tour) and so the itinerary is set for us.  It’s 11 days and it includes not one but TWO beachy bits: the Red Sea and the Dead Sea.  Reader: nothing makes me so clammy and terrified as swimwear.  So much so that when we went to Cape Verde last year, I deliberately didn’t take a swimsuit so that I didn’t ruin the holiday for myself in anxiety.  Yes, I would have loved to have gone in the sea but given the choice, it was no choice at all.

I will use the excuse that Jordan is not as westernised as all that – I’ve read that most women there would swim with a t-shirt on at least, sometimes shorts too.  But we’re staying in Western hotel chains so that’s somewhat flimsy.  I suspect there will be swimsuits and bikinis everywhere.  I only have to think this and I quite literally feel panic.  Panic anyway and then when SoD smugly refuses to shift down.  I had horrible food poisoning and that caused a leap downwards – I was flickering just above the next bracket down – and then it leapt back up.

I have nine weeks before we go.  If I could lose a stone I’d still be obscenely fat but it’s a stone better than where I am now. I ought to be able to say that I can set my mind to losing 2lbs a week and then I’d be at the lower point of the next stone down.  Admittedly at a pound a week, I am unlikely to notice any difference.  I know this numbers game is utterly self-flagellation, but I can’t not do it.

And I have two really nice skirts that I bought last summer (work skirts) that were just a smidgeon too tight.  I never wore them.  And I was a bit slimmer then.  HA!  I was not any gradation of slim –I was less fat than now.  I’d really like to wear them this year.  Every year I put off buying things – or even dry cleaning a couple of work skirts as ‘by next year they’ll be too big’.  I’ve thought this for years.  I’ve been wrong for years.  But I can’t quite bring myself to replace them or clean them.  There’s a winter jacket (duvet coat) in the sales that I like but I don’t want to be this size next winter.  I bought a mac at least three or four years ago that I thought I’d wear for a bit and then flog on ebay.  I’m still wearing it and it is looking sad and droopy (like its reluctant owner).  One of my best friends and my husband would tell me to accept that this is the way I am.  But I can’t.  I just can’t.

Tuesday, 15 November 2016

I kind of understand why the Catholics have confessional- it's someone who'll listen to you. I don't have that. Nor do I have the sorts of friends that I can go to - dearly though I love them. And in any case, I wouldn't know where to start or even how to voice it. But things are tough at the moment - and yes, that includes my weight and the feelings of loathing and failure that that brings. It's not 'just' that, it feels like life is just too tough at the moment. All my energy is used to keep putting one foot in front of the other and to keep a bright, normal facade. Sometimes it gets too tiring to keep the mask there.

Anyway, what this means is that I don't have the energy to write attempted entertaingly from the coal face of weight loss. I don't know when I'll be back. But sure as sure, whatever life chucks at me I'll be fat and trying (unsuccessfully) not to be. So maybe. I still think that a lot of my problems would be lessened by being slimmer. I've lost my way though.

If any of you are left, I wish you joy and success in every aspect of your lives. Thank you for listening

Friday, 2 September 2016

Still here - more so, in fact

I know.  Radio silence for – well, ages.  So what’s up?  Well, the first thing that’s sodding up is my weight.  I have been going nowhere for ages and then a week’s hiking (in which I walked almost 50 miles) combined with my birthday and the stress-eating caused by being in a smallish tin box with my mother for a week.  Reader, I put on 4lbs.

My initial goal was to get in not the next stone bracket down but the one below that before we flew off on holiday; it didn’t seem too ambitious but more realistic.  Then when it became clear that I had absolutely no chance of meeting that goal, I revised it to a half stone heavier.  Then when it became clear I wouldn’t reach that, I amended it to just tipping down into the next stone bracket down.  I have no chance of meeting that.

I feel as if I have to pick myself up and carry on regardless too many times.  But what else is there to do?  I certainly shouldn’t be surprised about the exercise not making any difference – I have proven this again and again.  Why do I do the same things and hope for a different result?  Because – and that question was largely rhetorical dear Reader (if there are any of you left! (and I wouldn’t blame you)) – what else can I do?  And yes, because I’m stupid. 

But I can’t think what else to do.  All my plans now are versions of things I’ve already failed at.  So I’m doing the 5:2 (still) and trying to cut my carbs right down because I know I felt better on that and hey, I’ve not done that one for a while.  And I’ve also noticed when I’ve had quite a bit of sugary carbs I get a emphatically dodgy stomach (as in function – obviously form is and has been dodgy since, well, time immemorial).  This is something that has recently clonked me on the head, revelation-wise. 

Of course, my latest incident could also be exacerbated by an unpleasant evening with my mother.  She’d obviously saved up quite a bit of resentment and anger about P and decided to hit me with it.  I wasn’t expecting it – I’d gone over for a birthday meal as she’d not bothered to buy me a present (she couldn’t think what to get, apparently).  Then she was indignant that I was so upset: “Well, I hope you’re not going to let it spoil the evening.  We’ll have to draw a line and get on with it”.  Um.... my evening WAS spoilt – I didn’t even want to eat (I KNOW!) but had to because she’d made a stir fry thing and lemon meringue pie.  P does needle her, but he is also generous with both his time and money and support and she doesn’t deal with it very well.  Either way, I didn’t want to bear the brunt of it.  And I can’t see how we can move on from it – I don’t want to put P in that situation or myself.  And since we’re the only ones who host her for Christmas, I’m not sure what we can do.  I’m trying not to think about it.  Which is always a great tactic for dealing with anything.

Anyway, that was a VERY long winded way of saying that I’m down.  I’m really struggling in fact, humiliating as it is to admit it.  And although I’m looking forward to our holiday in a fortnight’s time, I can’t help but think of all the things that last time caused me to swear that I would be thinner this year – and I think I’m fatter (a few lbs but in the wrong direction).  Okay I won’t be mountain hiking or white water rafting this time (as far as I know!) but there will be plenty of opportunities for me to feel like I look wrong – as there is in everyday life already.

Thursday, 21 July 2016

Unhappy anniversary

Oh dear.  You know how my modus operandi is slogging away at the diet and seeing little result or no result?  I went off-piste last weekend.  As in spectacularly off-piste: Reader, I went berserk.  I knew I was going out for dinner on Friday – a deal for three courses and a glass of champagne – and I knew that we were going to meet for a couple of cocktails first in our favourite bar (this was inevitable given that by some twist of happy fate, both places were in the same hotel).  But. 
  • ·         4 cocktails
  • ·         Glass champagne
  • ·         Flight of champagne (three small glasses)
  • ·         Shared a bottle of wine with P (I definitely had well under half)

Eek!  I don’t drink a lot – mainly because of being calorific – so this is a LOT of booze for me.  P went on to have dessert wine and a large whisky – and he’d had two gins before I got there.  Suffice it to say though that when I got up on Saturday I am pretty sure I was still drunk.  This – combined with a dress rehearsal and performance that day (choir) – led to random and reckless eating on Saturday.   And you know that I beaver away and get a fractional loss?  SO doesn’t work the other way around: I put on 4lbs. 

Overall – WI was today – I’m 2lbs up.  And I looked back across my stats and I can see that I’ve been in this stone bracket for a year.  I cannot believe I’ve been slogging all this time and have only got to x.4 – currently I’m x.7.  I had really wanted to be down in the next stone bracket by now.  Hell, by months ago.  Still, I’m not allowing it to de-rail me into another weekend like last weekend.  You may start talking about stable doors and bolting horses.  You may even be right.  But given that I can do that much damage in two days, if I went free-style, it’s possibly for the best. 

Monday, 4 July 2016


We’re coming up to an anniversary for me and SoD.  Yes, it’s been a year that I’ve been in this stone bracket.  A whole sodding year.  So in essence, I’ve done a lovely job of maintaining but not actual losing.  And I’m far too fat for maintaining – it should be coming off me at a far more rapid rate. 

And we had a weekend away with friends so my weight has shot up to the wrong side of the half stone bracket.  Why is this so hard?  Don’t worry dear Reader, it’s a rhetorical question.  I keep plugging on.  I’m hoping that the 4lbs I put on in 3 days comes off as quickly.  But it doesn’t seem to work like that, sadly.  Fast on, slow off.  Would that it was the other way around.

I bore myself with my lack of anything to say.  That’s why I haven’t blogged much recently – it’s bad enough that I’m bored with this, I don’t want to bore you too.

New goals (surely a triumph of optimism over experience): Into the next stone bracket (down, DOWN) by the end of this month and then it should be c6 weeks until our holiday (I say ‘should’ because we’ve not booked anything yet).  I’d really like to have made significant progress towards the next stone bracket by then.  Potential obstacles include: my birthday (end of August), week in Suffolk with my mother (late August – plenty of walking but I can’t imagine doing starve days then), P’s birthday in late September and an afternoon tea in two and a half weeks’ time.

Today is the first starve day of this week; the next will be Wednesday.  I have one sociable thing – dinner with my best friend on Thursday.  This is not a blow-out occasion or even close.  No booze, no pudding, just a main dish and I can chose a (relatively) safe dish – either chicken salad or chicken, side salad and rice.  And that’s a WI away yet.

Head down for weight down.  Fingers crossed.

Thursday, 9 June 2016


I am being cautious as I say this – and maintaining full body contact with wood – but I’ve had a reasonably good week.  By this I mean I’ve been really conscientious on starve days, diet days and weekend.  I was disappointed to see the scales rise after the weekend when I’d been so good, but the total loss for the week is -3lbs, which for me is pretty damn stellar.

I may also have achieved this by dint of buttering Scales of Doom (SoD) up by cleaning it.  Either that or the dust and talc on it weighed quite a bit. 

Either way I’ll take it.  I definitely improve my mood if I’m sticking to it.  If I can skip a meal relatively painlessly I’m positively glowing with satisfaction.  Not quite sure that’s great psychologically but at this point, I don’t think that matters too much.

Today is not one of those days of denial and satisfaction.  It’s our monthly cake bake for charity, and although I’ve foregone both breakfast and lunch to compensate, I have had several small pieces.  But I also threw away (surreptiously) two pieces where I’d had a bite or two and decided it wasn’t worth the calories.  I am also having dinner with P tonight on a deal at Yauatcha (it’s one of those deal things).  I love dim sum and I’m hoping it’s not too disastrous – it’s not burger and chips for instance!  I have to be brave and weigh tomorrow even though I know it’s going to be up – and then focus on getting it back down.  I don’t think there are any other trip hazards before next WI.

I haven’t been at this weight since the end of February.  Which is simultaneously depressing and good.  I stand a faint chance of meeting my goal of getting into the next stone bracket by the end of the month.  You know, dear Reader, that I feel scared thinking that, let alone typing it: I’ve been here too often where even with a concerted effort I fail every single goal.  I don’t want to set myself up for that stomach dropping fall if I don’t make it, but.... but.... I really want to get cracking on with this, I know I’d be happier.  It’s an ambitious goal tbh – means losing 5-6lbs – but I’m hoping that over the next 3 weeks this might be possible.  If it means polishing SoD, so be it.