For a long time I was able to weigh (excuse the pun) in on discussions about weight loss and various diets. I could tell people about the time that I lost over 60lbs following a Weightwatchers plan and that it had been hard at times but, also, not really, I'd just got on with it and fixed the issue that was making me sad.
Only that was in 2011 and we are now in 2014.
So where are we now?
For a long time everything was fine and although I didn't weigh myself (I don't own scales) I could tell just by the way my clothes fit that I was vaguely the same. And I was fine with that, it wasn't about being a particular weight, in fact I wasn't very comfortable at my goal weight, it was just a little too slim for me. It was just about feeling better in myself. And I did.
But come on, I haven't answered the question. Where am I now?
The god's honest truth that I've only just admitted to myself after a fairly hefty period of denial?
I'm only a stone away from where I started in 2011.
And I've managed to put it on in basically the last part of 2013.
We live in a funny little world I think. It's gradually come to my attention that we live in a society where we really enjoy not taking the blame for bad things that happen. I understand that to some degree, it helps to be able to point the finger and say "You, you are the cause of all my woes". I actually saw someone on my Facebook feed make a comment about the recent flooding, followed by the comment "Sort it out Mr Cameron." I know, I judge me for having a friend who would write that too. But it does illustrate a point, we really like blaming people for when bad things happen.
And I am at this point gifted a huge opportunity because I have the ultimate scapegoat to blame for putting weight back on.
The diet industry.
What could be easier than blaming Weightwatchers, the very instrument that helped me lose weight, for putting weight back on again?
Except that I'm not an idiot.
People love to throw around statistics about how people who do diets end up piling the pounds, plus a few extra, back on once they come off the plan. I don't believe I fall into that statistic, we're talking about something that happened just over three years ago, it's not as if I put it all on six months after reaching my gold weight. Weightwatchers did exactly what it is that they are supposed to do. Helped me to lose weight. It is not their job to keep the weight off, that has to be down to me surely?
In this day and age can we ever lay the blame at the diet industry's door? There can't be a person out there that doesn't know that to lose weight you have to eat less and exercise more. If you know this equation then how can it be anyone else's issue but your own?
So if I can't blame it on the diet industry then what else can I blame it on?
Here I could offer you a multitude of excuses.
- I lived with my sister for a year and didn't really have control over what I ate
- Moving away from The Person meant I was sad and more prone to eating rubbish to make myself feel better
- Then when I did go to Preston to see him it was a treat so you'd eat 'treat' type things
- Then we moved back in together and I started eating portions to match his monstrous appetite
- Then the weather was bad and my knee was injured and I couldn't go running and get exercise in
All valid and all contributory towards me piling on more than a few pounds but they are exactly what I just said.
Excuses.
I know more than anybody what I need to do to lose weight. I did it once before, I don't get to have excuses. Emotional eating is a problem, yes, but I'm doing exactly what I said I didn't want to do, which is to pass the buck and blame something else. "Oh it's not my fault I've put weight on, it goes back to deep seated issues I have with food to do with my mother/father/auntie/next door neighbour."
Saying "I'm an emotional eater" is just another excuse.
"Well getting over that is easier said than done" I hear you say. And I couldn't agree more.
I wish I was blessed with a naturally small appetite. I wish that I didn't feel an inexplicable need to finish everything on my plate regardless of whether or not I was hungry. I wish that I didn't want to eat when I was bored/sad/happy/nervous etc etc. But the fact is I do and therefore I have a choice. I can carry on and eat everything in sight and be very overweight and not feel happy in myself, or, I can just fricking eat less and go out for more runs. Sometimes stuff in life doesn't come easy to certain people. Crocheting amigurumi animals? That comes fairly easily to me. Not eating all the food in the cupboards and lazing on the sofa all the time? That comes a little harder.
Believe me if I could find someone to blame for my current situation I would. It would be so much easier. It would be so much easier for it to be someone else's fault that I ended up throwing a strop and not wanting to go out this Saturday night because none of my clothes fit and I felt uncomfortable.
Because the terribly unpalatable truth is that the only person to blame is me.
And finally I've found something that's hard to swallow.
Showing posts with label The Cult of Weightwatchers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Cult of Weightwatchers. Show all posts
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Saturday, 7 January 2012
Not Really Resolutions 2012
So here we go. Not Really Resolutions 2012. Eek.
I think last year went pretty well. 9 out of 10 is a success in my book anyway, certainly as close to perfection as I’ll ever get.
So what’s on the list for this year? And more importantly, why?
1. Complete France 2010 trip album. Ha. Well it has to be on here doesn’t it really, given that it’s the only thing I didn’t complete last year. Shame on me. But this way it will definitely get done so it’s time for me to get my head down!
2. Furniture make-over. I have 2 items of charity shop furniture that need a make-over. One is a drop-leaf table and the other is this scabby looking chest of drawers that I picked up for £5 a few days after Christmas. They are very good at their jobs, but they’re not exactly pretty. I even know what I want to do with them, after getting inspiration from Tete en l’air last year, so it’s just a case of getting on with it. Think it might have to wait for more clement weather though!
3. Run 10km. A tricky one to put on the list as I’m still not overly sure if I am able to run 10km without my shin imploding. But if I don’t put it on the list I won’t push myself to try and achieve it so it’s going on here. I need something to aim for because once I’d run the 5km last year I stopped having the impetus to go running and as a result I’ve become a reet lazy so and so and I’m piling on the pounds as a result.
But I’m not going to beat myself up if I don’t achieve this one because it’ll be because I physically can’t do it. Note that I’ve just said run 10km, not enter in a race, I don’t want to put too much pressure on myself because then I’ll end up in pain – if I manage to run 10km, whether that be on a treadmill or running up and down my street a million times, I’ll count it as a win.
4. No buying of physical books for one whole year. Yeah you read right. I’m going hardcore for 2012. There is good reason for this. Namely that I do not need any more books. There are currently 92 books waiting to be read on my bookshelves. I read about 45 books this year, and 44 the year before that. Do the maths. Also I just don’t have the space to be buying books.
Which brings me to why it says no physical book buying. I decided this would be my resolution a couple of months ago and was all settled until Christmas Day when I opened up my present from my Dad and discovered I am the proud owner of a Kindle. I’ve had mixed feelings about these for some time now but I was mostly pleased because I saw a loophole in my resolution. I can’t buy any physical books but I’m allowing myself to buy books for my Kindle. I mean otherwise it would just be a waste wouldn’t it?
This one is going to be a tough one because I have a bit of a compulsion with book buying, as evidenced by the problem in the first place.
5. Learn how to do French knots and use them in an embroidered piece. These guys are the bane of my life. I literally cannot do them. Many have tried to teach me and many have wanted to poke me in the eye with the needle due to my complete inability to do it. But this year I am determined. If anyone has any links to any tutorials or videos that are good please tell me about them! I think French knots are going to be to 2012 what learning to crochet a ripple blanket was to 2011.
6. Use my alpaca wool. American Girl went all the way to South America to get me this wool (there’s a chance she also went for a holiday but we all know it was about me) and all I’ve done with it is turn from skeins into very neat balls of wool. This is bad behaviour. The main reason I haven’t used it is because I’m a giant scaredy cat because it’s not Stylecraft DK so I don’t know what to do with it. It is thin thinny thin thin and it frightens me. Any suggestions for what I can do with it (keep it clean please) then let me know!
7. Sell something at a craft fair. This requires me to be organised and get a stockpile together. Of what I have no idea but I like the thought of making money. Remember the mobile that I made for my niece? Since that one I’ve made 4 more for friends and it’s earned me some lovely cash. Now obviously I can’t make those – not unless I develop psychic powers and learn the names of my potential shoppers beforehand – but I’ve been bitten by greed and want to make pocket money for myself. I can feel a Gantt chart coming on...
8. Read 12 Classics. I had such a good time last year that I definitely want to carry this on this year. Mostly because of the stockpile I have – remember those 92 books? Yeah well 17 of them are Classics that I bought on speculation. And I can download Classics for free on my Kindle so no excuses.
9. Cook/bake something new every 3 weeks. When I was doing Weightwatchers in 2010/2011 I really started to enjoy being in the kitchen much more as I was always making myself new things. Since reaching my goal weight in February 2010 I’ve been lazy and that, plus the lack of exercise (see Resolution 3) has meant that slowly but ever so surely the weight is creeping back on. It’s not a big deal, I’ve just fallen into some bad habits, but I know what I need to do to change them so there’s no stressing to be done. But I thought this might help give me a kick up the bum.
Why 3 weeks? Well I knew that if I said fortnightly I’d never keep it up and if I said monthly well that’s just a big fat cop out isn’t it really? So every 3 weeks it is. God knows how I’ll keep track of this one.
10. Keep a diary with photos for one whole year. I loved doing Project 365 last year because it allowed me to look back over a year in my life and remember all the little things that happened. However it was a little limiting because I try to be as private as possible on the blog and not have other people’s faces in my photos etc. So I have decided that I will keep an actual physical diary for a year that will include photos. I’m not pressuring myself to write something every single day or take a photo every single day but I do want to keep a record of the little things that happen day to day. I even bought myself a cool book from Paperchase to do it in. Anything to oblige my stationary addiction.
------------
So there we have it. I am locked in. Bring it on 2012.
It's actually kind of scary. I think I might start thinking of valid reasons why I haven't completed these now, just in case...
I think last year went pretty well. 9 out of 10 is a success in my book anyway, certainly as close to perfection as I’ll ever get.
So what’s on the list for this year? And more importantly, why?
1. Complete France 2010 trip album. Ha. Well it has to be on here doesn’t it really, given that it’s the only thing I didn’t complete last year. Shame on me. But this way it will definitely get done so it’s time for me to get my head down!
2. Furniture make-over. I have 2 items of charity shop furniture that need a make-over. One is a drop-leaf table and the other is this scabby looking chest of drawers that I picked up for £5 a few days after Christmas. They are very good at their jobs, but they’re not exactly pretty. I even know what I want to do with them, after getting inspiration from Tete en l’air last year, so it’s just a case of getting on with it. Think it might have to wait for more clement weather though!
3. Run 10km. A tricky one to put on the list as I’m still not overly sure if I am able to run 10km without my shin imploding. But if I don’t put it on the list I won’t push myself to try and achieve it so it’s going on here. I need something to aim for because once I’d run the 5km last year I stopped having the impetus to go running and as a result I’ve become a reet lazy so and so and I’m piling on the pounds as a result.
But I’m not going to beat myself up if I don’t achieve this one because it’ll be because I physically can’t do it. Note that I’ve just said run 10km, not enter in a race, I don’t want to put too much pressure on myself because then I’ll end up in pain – if I manage to run 10km, whether that be on a treadmill or running up and down my street a million times, I’ll count it as a win.
4. No buying of physical books for one whole year. Yeah you read right. I’m going hardcore for 2012. There is good reason for this. Namely that I do not need any more books. There are currently 92 books waiting to be read on my bookshelves. I read about 45 books this year, and 44 the year before that. Do the maths. Also I just don’t have the space to be buying books.
Which brings me to why it says no physical book buying. I decided this would be my resolution a couple of months ago and was all settled until Christmas Day when I opened up my present from my Dad and discovered I am the proud owner of a Kindle. I’ve had mixed feelings about these for some time now but I was mostly pleased because I saw a loophole in my resolution. I can’t buy any physical books but I’m allowing myself to buy books for my Kindle. I mean otherwise it would just be a waste wouldn’t it?
This one is going to be a tough one because I have a bit of a compulsion with book buying, as evidenced by the problem in the first place.
5. Learn how to do French knots and use them in an embroidered piece. These guys are the bane of my life. I literally cannot do them. Many have tried to teach me and many have wanted to poke me in the eye with the needle due to my complete inability to do it. But this year I am determined. If anyone has any links to any tutorials or videos that are good please tell me about them! I think French knots are going to be to 2012 what learning to crochet a ripple blanket was to 2011.
6. Use my alpaca wool. American Girl went all the way to South America to get me this wool (there’s a chance she also went for a holiday but we all know it was about me) and all I’ve done with it is turn from skeins into very neat balls of wool. This is bad behaviour. The main reason I haven’t used it is because I’m a giant scaredy cat because it’s not Stylecraft DK so I don’t know what to do with it. It is thin thinny thin thin and it frightens me. Any suggestions for what I can do with it (keep it clean please) then let me know!
7. Sell something at a craft fair. This requires me to be organised and get a stockpile together. Of what I have no idea but I like the thought of making money. Remember the mobile that I made for my niece? Since that one I’ve made 4 more for friends and it’s earned me some lovely cash. Now obviously I can’t make those – not unless I develop psychic powers and learn the names of my potential shoppers beforehand – but I’ve been bitten by greed and want to make pocket money for myself. I can feel a Gantt chart coming on...
8. Read 12 Classics. I had such a good time last year that I definitely want to carry this on this year. Mostly because of the stockpile I have – remember those 92 books? Yeah well 17 of them are Classics that I bought on speculation. And I can download Classics for free on my Kindle so no excuses.
9. Cook/bake something new every 3 weeks. When I was doing Weightwatchers in 2010/2011 I really started to enjoy being in the kitchen much more as I was always making myself new things. Since reaching my goal weight in February 2010 I’ve been lazy and that, plus the lack of exercise (see Resolution 3) has meant that slowly but ever so surely the weight is creeping back on. It’s not a big deal, I’ve just fallen into some bad habits, but I know what I need to do to change them so there’s no stressing to be done. But I thought this might help give me a kick up the bum.
Why 3 weeks? Well I knew that if I said fortnightly I’d never keep it up and if I said monthly well that’s just a big fat cop out isn’t it really? So every 3 weeks it is. God knows how I’ll keep track of this one.
10. Keep a diary with photos for one whole year. I loved doing Project 365 last year because it allowed me to look back over a year in my life and remember all the little things that happened. However it was a little limiting because I try to be as private as possible on the blog and not have other people’s faces in my photos etc. So I have decided that I will keep an actual physical diary for a year that will include photos. I’m not pressuring myself to write something every single day or take a photo every single day but I do want to keep a record of the little things that happen day to day. I even bought myself a cool book from Paperchase to do it in. Anything to oblige my stationary addiction.
------------
So there we have it. I am locked in. Bring it on 2012.
It's actually kind of scary. I think I might start thinking of valid reasons why I haven't completed these now, just in case...
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
Hunger Beast
Today I have a hunger beast that has taken over my whole body. He won't be satisfied no matter what I feed him.
It's only 4pm and already today I've eaten:
It's only 4pm and already today I've eaten:
- Weetabix x2
- Punnet of cherry tomatoes x1
- Pack of Belvita biscuits x1*
- Chicken salad wrap x1
- Apple x1
- Plums x4
- Packet of Ryvita Minis (Sweet Chilli flavour) x1
- Weightwatchers Peach yoghurt x1
And still The Hunger Beast will not be satiated.
I'm trying not to be too hard on myself. Everything on that list is pretty good for me, it's not like I've eaten 12 Snickers (although that could just be because I don't have any of those to hand.) But still - quantity-wise it feels like a lot has gone in my body to try and calm that Beast.
But I have a sneaking suspicion that the Beast is tricking me.
You see I'm going to Pizza Express for dinner tonight with my cousin and I get the feeling that the Beast has somehow found this out and has decided that nothing is going to satisfy it unless it's covered in cheese and baked in an oven.
*Sigh*
*Belvita biscuits are advertised as a breakfast replacement. There's no way that would work for the Hunger Beast even on its very best day but I am in love with these biscuits in a possibly inappropriate way and they are my official mid-morning snack.
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Maintenance
So one month ago I hit my goal weight at Weightwatchers. How have things been going since then?
I am officially now a Gold member. I have a snazzy little card to prove it. (Well I have a paper copy at least, I’m still waiting for my ‘real’ card to appear in the post.)
What does this mean to you people not familiar with the language of WW?
As a Gold member I can now weigh in for free. I can go as often or as little as I like, as long as I get weighed at least 5 times a year. I have to be within 5lbs of my goal weight or else I will have to pay for that meeting.
This is where I start to have a problem.
My goal weight was not some long strived for target that I had been lusting after for years. It was not the weight I would need to be to fit into a size 10. There was no great thought process that went into my decision, instead it went something like this....
WW leader: And what would you like your goal weight to be?
Me: Erm.....12 stone?
I knew that 12 stone was just within the ‘ok’ range for my height (if you subscribe to BMI methods which I KNOW are iffy but we have nothing else to go on so I say you’ve got to suck it up and get on with it.) but wasn’t so far away from my beginning weight that I would give up before I started.
I actually ended up smashing my goal weight target on the day I reached goal. I immediately had a mad week where I ate out 4/5 times (not in celebration, just one of those busy kind of weeks) and didn't have time to go to the gym and the week after I reached goal I’d put on 3.5lbs, which I actually thought was kind of impressive.
Since then I haven’t been back to weigh in. I have been busy but also in the back of my head I’m a little bit scared to go. It seems natural to me that I will probably have put a little bit of weight back on. But the thing is, I’m fine with that. I know I haven’t stacked it on, clothes are still hanging off me and there isn’t really a difference when I look in the mirror. I’m happy at whatever weight I’m at at the moment.
It's just I have no idea what that weight is. I don’t own scales, I never have.
I could just go to a meeting and get weighed and get it over with but part of me doesn’t want to. What if I’m over 12 stone 6lbs? The fact is that if I am that’s ok with me. But technically I will have failed. I don’t want to feel like that. I especially don’t want to feel like that because of some totally random number I pulled out of thin air.
It’s a strange kind of feeling, one that I didn’t really expect. I didn’t think that I would be left feeling so conflicted about WW. I have loved it and do love it still and I can’t really fault it, it worked for me in terms of me losing weight. But I don’t want to feel permanently worried that I’ve “failed” at maintenance because of a rule that says I have to be within 5lbs of my goal weight.
I guess I’m just going to rip the plaster off and see what the scales say...
I am officially now a Gold member. I have a snazzy little card to prove it. (Well I have a paper copy at least, I’m still waiting for my ‘real’ card to appear in the post.)
What does this mean to you people not familiar with the language of WW?
As a Gold member I can now weigh in for free. I can go as often or as little as I like, as long as I get weighed at least 5 times a year. I have to be within 5lbs of my goal weight or else I will have to pay for that meeting.
This is where I start to have a problem.
My goal weight was not some long strived for target that I had been lusting after for years. It was not the weight I would need to be to fit into a size 10. There was no great thought process that went into my decision, instead it went something like this....
WW leader: And what would you like your goal weight to be?
Me: Erm.....12 stone?
I knew that 12 stone was just within the ‘ok’ range for my height (if you subscribe to BMI methods which I KNOW are iffy but we have nothing else to go on so I say you’ve got to suck it up and get on with it.) but wasn’t so far away from my beginning weight that I would give up before I started.
I actually ended up smashing my goal weight target on the day I reached goal. I immediately had a mad week where I ate out 4/5 times (not in celebration, just one of those busy kind of weeks) and didn't have time to go to the gym and the week after I reached goal I’d put on 3.5lbs, which I actually thought was kind of impressive.
Since then I haven’t been back to weigh in. I have been busy but also in the back of my head I’m a little bit scared to go. It seems natural to me that I will probably have put a little bit of weight back on. But the thing is, I’m fine with that. I know I haven’t stacked it on, clothes are still hanging off me and there isn’t really a difference when I look in the mirror. I’m happy at whatever weight I’m at at the moment.
It's just I have no idea what that weight is. I don’t own scales, I never have.
I could just go to a meeting and get weighed and get it over with but part of me doesn’t want to. What if I’m over 12 stone 6lbs? The fact is that if I am that’s ok with me. But technically I will have failed. I don’t want to feel like that. I especially don’t want to feel like that because of some totally random number I pulled out of thin air.
It’s a strange kind of feeling, one that I didn’t really expect. I didn’t think that I would be left feeling so conflicted about WW. I have loved it and do love it still and I can’t really fault it, it worked for me in terms of me losing weight. But I don’t want to feel permanently worried that I’ve “failed” at maintenance because of a rule that says I have to be within 5lbs of my goal weight.
I guess I’m just going to rip the plaster off and see what the scales say...
Saturday, 5 February 2011
On your marks
I’ve never been particularly good at running. The mere mention of the words “cross country” can still set off a feeling of low level nausea in the pit of my stomach and send me looking for the nearest bush to hide in (anyone else do that during cross country at school?). When I first joined a gym back in June 2009, things weren’t much better. I was in terrible shape, had no stamina, and my tricksy knee would plague me if I managed to run for more than 10 minutes.
However since joining the new gym last year and becoming a proper “gym goer” (i.e. someone who actually turns up regularly to the gym, rather than someone who pays someone £20 a month for no reason) my stamina has slowly improved. And since losing the weight, my knee seems miraculously better – frightening proof of how much just a few extra stone can affect your joints.
And so came my decision that I would run a 5km race this year.
The reasons were few but nevertheless important;
1) Just something to do
I am signed up to the Race for Life in Hull on Sunday 17th July. This is brilliant because not only does it give me something to aim for but it’s absolutely ages away so I have plenty of time to get training.
The only problem?
An all encompassing fear of running in public.
“Nobody’s looking at you!” I hear you say. But hear me. I know that I have seen people running on the streets and said to myself “My god they run weirdly.” Whilst I accept that people might not be as judgemental as me I know I’m not the only one who’s watched someone in lycra jog past and had a giggle to themselves.
I told myself that I would take it in stages. I would keep running on the treadmill until I knew that I could run 5km on that. At that point I would suck it up and take it to the streets because I would have the knowledge in my head that I could do this. And we all know the importance of that positive mental attitude.
I was quite pleased with myself, I had managed to legitimately put off something I was scared of doing. Until...
...This weekend I went to visit The Person (sorry, I just can’t think of a better name for him right now) and took advantage of a “Bring a friend for free” pass to get some running in. I gave him strict instructions to not communicate or even look in my direction whilst we were in there (there are certain times when it is ok for your boyfriend to see you red and sweaty. These times do not include the gym.) and I set myself up on the treadmill.
I started jogging away nicely and thought that I would push myself and aim for 3km, the furthest I would have ever run before.
I jogged and I jogged and I listened to tunes on my I-pod and watched the Coronation Street omnibus on the TV and realised that I was almost at 3km and wasn’t drop down dead tired yet. My problem tends to be that I stop well before I need to, mainly because I get incredibly bored and have to get off – my usual limit is 20 minutes on a treadmill before my brain implodes.
“See if you can make it to 30 minutes” I told myself.
I jogged and I jogged and I realised that I was almost at 30 minutes and that I was well into 4km.
“Might as well keep going then lady. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I told myself (in the style of a Bootcamp leader. A nice one though. Not one that makes you exercise until you vomit).
I jogged and I jogged...
And after 35 minutes and 27 seconds of jogging I ran for 5km. No stopping, no slowing down (and not speeding up either admittedly) just jog, jog, jog.
Cue tumultuous applause. Cue me almost hugging the stranger on the cross trainer next to me. Cue me stumbling across the gym to tell The Person that I’d completed a 5k and why hadn’t he looked at me so I could get his attention so he could come and witness it (contrary? Me?!). Cue a call to my Mum to tell her so she’d be proud of me (she didn’t get it). Cue a status update on Facebook in testament to my triumph. Cue general excitement and feelings of pride.
Until I realised that I don’t have any more excuses and have to go running in public.
However since joining the new gym last year and becoming a proper “gym goer” (i.e. someone who actually turns up regularly to the gym, rather than someone who pays someone £20 a month for no reason) my stamina has slowly improved. And since losing the weight, my knee seems miraculously better – frightening proof of how much just a few extra stone can affect your joints.
And so came my decision that I would run a 5km race this year.
The reasons were few but nevertheless important;
1) Just something to do
2) Get over my fear of running – I am not still the same awkward teenager who would want to cry at the prospect of running the 1500m
3) Help maintain my weight loss
I am signed up to the Race for Life in Hull on Sunday 17th July. This is brilliant because not only does it give me something to aim for but it’s absolutely ages away so I have plenty of time to get training.
The only problem?
An all encompassing fear of running in public.
“Nobody’s looking at you!” I hear you say. But hear me. I know that I have seen people running on the streets and said to myself “My god they run weirdly.” Whilst I accept that people might not be as judgemental as me I know I’m not the only one who’s watched someone in lycra jog past and had a giggle to themselves.
I told myself that I would take it in stages. I would keep running on the treadmill until I knew that I could run 5km on that. At that point I would suck it up and take it to the streets because I would have the knowledge in my head that I could do this. And we all know the importance of that positive mental attitude.
I was quite pleased with myself, I had managed to legitimately put off something I was scared of doing. Until...
...This weekend I went to visit The Person (sorry, I just can’t think of a better name for him right now) and took advantage of a “Bring a friend for free” pass to get some running in. I gave him strict instructions to not communicate or even look in my direction whilst we were in there (there are certain times when it is ok for your boyfriend to see you red and sweaty. These times do not include the gym.) and I set myself up on the treadmill.
I started jogging away nicely and thought that I would push myself and aim for 3km, the furthest I would have ever run before.
I jogged and I jogged and I listened to tunes on my I-pod and watched the Coronation Street omnibus on the TV and realised that I was almost at 3km and wasn’t drop down dead tired yet. My problem tends to be that I stop well before I need to, mainly because I get incredibly bored and have to get off – my usual limit is 20 minutes on a treadmill before my brain implodes.
“See if you can make it to 30 minutes” I told myself.
I jogged and I jogged and I realised that I was almost at 30 minutes and that I was well into 4km.
“Might as well keep going then lady. Let’s see what you’ve got.” I told myself (in the style of a Bootcamp leader. A nice one though. Not one that makes you exercise until you vomit).
I jogged and I jogged...
And after 35 minutes and 27 seconds of jogging I ran for 5km. No stopping, no slowing down (and not speeding up either admittedly) just jog, jog, jog.
Cue tumultuous applause. Cue me almost hugging the stranger on the cross trainer next to me. Cue me stumbling across the gym to tell The Person that I’d completed a 5k and why hadn’t he looked at me so I could get his attention so he could come and witness it (contrary? Me?!). Cue a call to my Mum to tell her so she’d be proud of me (she didn’t get it). Cue a status update on Facebook in testament to my triumph. Cue general excitement and feelings of pride.
Until I realised that I don’t have any more excuses and have to go running in public.
Where’s the nearest bush?
Thursday, 3 February 2011
Numbers
It's taken about 9 months, 266 days to be (more or less) precise.
I have gone from weighing 16 stone 3lbs to 11 stone 10.5lbs.
Or if you prefer it all in lbs that's 227lbs to 164lbs.
Or 103.18kg to 74.55kg
If you're good at the mental arithmetic you will have worked out that I have lost 62.5lbs altogether (which is 4 stones 5.5lbs, or 28.18kg)
My BMI has gone from 32.6 (anything over 30 is classed as obese) to 23.5
My clothes have gone from a size 16/18 to a size 12/14.
The last time I was that size was about 9 or 10 years ago.
But who cares about the numbers when really a photo can show you all you need to see...
I have gone from weighing 16 stone 3lbs to 11 stone 10.5lbs.
Or if you prefer it all in lbs that's 227lbs to 164lbs.
Or 103.18kg to 74.55kg
If you're good at the mental arithmetic you will have worked out that I have lost 62.5lbs altogether (which is 4 stones 5.5lbs, or 28.18kg)
My BMI has gone from 32.6 (anything over 30 is classed as obese) to 23.5
My clothes have gone from a size 16/18 to a size 12/14.
The last time I was that size was about 9 or 10 years ago.
But who cares about the numbers when really a photo can show you all you need to see...
Me in January 2010 and Me in February 2011.
(The top is the same, the belt in the left is a thing of the past, got too big, ditto the jeans.)
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
I'm not superstitious but...
Today I should be a very happy bunny because yesterday I should have reached my goal weight at Weightwatchers. Instead of losing the measly 0.5lb I had left to go, I ended up somehow putting 0.5lb on. I am unhappy about this situation. It's annoying for many reasons, mostly because it's just so arbitrary. It's only a freaking pound that's left, that pound is not going to make me change body shape or drop a dress size, it just happens to be the number that I need to lose to hit the magic figure that I made up when I joined Weightwatchers. I don't have to lose this pound. I could just leave Weightwatchers and that would be that and life would carry on, but I just can't do it. I have to succeed and that means losing one more pound. It's ridiculous but true.
Being so sure that I would hit my goal weight yesterday has meant that I've now become incredibly paranoid about why I didn't hit it and I've started to think that I jinxed myself by doing certain things like,
See? Tempting fate.
Or.
I could have put on 0.5lb because I just ate too much last week.
We'll never know.
But just in case there is such a thing as fate and just in case it has just bitchslapped me in the face for getting ideas above my station I'm going to post what I was planning to write when I'd reached goal, therefore cancelling out any bad vibes.
So what follows is some stuff that I've written down over the past 9 months - just some observations that I have made since I started losing weight. They're absolutely not dieting tips, different things work for different people and I wouldn't presume to tell you the "right" way to go about dieting, these are merely unexpected things that have happened to me along the way.
1. You go through stages where you suddenly appear a lot slimmer. You may lose a steady 1/2lbs each week but there is a sudden KABLAMMO moment where you look like you’ve lost a stone overnight. You’ll know when these stages are because these are the times that everyone notices you’re losing weight and gives you compliments. It’s also the time when your jeans go from fitting you to falling down with apparently no in-between stage.
2. You can lose weight from your fingers and your feet. Crazy but true. I can now fit into a size 7 in some shops when I never could before. Some shoes have had to be binned because they fall off, even with inserts put in them and the ring that my Mum bought me now fits, I’d been in denial that the reason it didn’t fit was because my fingers were too fat.
3. And speaking of denial...you don’t realise it but you’re in it. Once you lose weight you can look back at yourself and shake your head in disbelief and go “What were you thinking?” How could you possibly kid yourself that what you were eating is ok and not too fattening?! How could you look at photos of yourself and not see it? Or dismiss it as a bad photo of you? Simple answer is it’s easier to be in denial and I have seen just how easy it is to delude yourself – a trap I’m determined not to fall into again (unless I decide that the reason I've put weight on is not because I ate too much but because I tempted fate. See? Told you it was easy to fall into.)
4. You, as a person, become all about the weight. When you’re fat no-one mentions your body shape or size (making it easier to be in denial by the way), once you start losing weight it all becomes about that. You know that people are looking at your body and in a strange way you actually become a little more self-conscious than you ever were when you were overweight.
5. The expense. Holy moly is it expensive. New everything. New jeans, new trousers, new skirts, new tops, new belts, new bras, new knickers (yes really, some of mine were in danger of falling around my ankles). You might have an income to support shopping in Monsoon or you might be frequenting charity shops but either way, losing weight costs money. It’s been horrible not being able to afford nice things – you’ve lost all this weight and you want to look good, not be walking down the road with one hand holding your trousers up. I should have been like one woman in my WW meeting whose husband gave her £10 for every 1lb she lost. (I know. Where do they grow husbands like that?!)
6. I have a strange fear of bones. I don’t particularly like touching them, it makes me squirm somewhat. Tell me a story about you breaking your collarbone and you’ll see me start to squint and shy away. So the reappearance of my collar bones has had a strange impact on me. It’s great to see them and go “Hell yes I’ve lost weight” but at the same time the sight of them makes me feel a little queasy. Same with my pelvis, we do an exercise in Pump that means your hands touch your pelvic bone and it really makes me want to vomit. (Please note, this makes me sound like I’m a walking skeleton, I’m really not, they’re just noticeable to me because of my slight issue with them.) My knees freaked me out the other day when I accidentally rested my hand on them – where’s all the squishiness gone? Bleurgh.
7. I now have absolutely no idea of what suits me. My whole body shape has changed and I've been left feeling a little bit bewildered. It's difficult to know if you didn't get away with certain things because you were fat or because you just don't suit them. I have overcome my fear of leggings, that was definitely a fat thing, and I'm slowly overcoming my huge fear of dresses now that I've discovered that my legs are nowhere near as bad as I thought they were, they were just too big. But it's quite scary I have no idea what my 'style' is or what I should be wearing or how I should be wearing it, if ever there was a girl in need of Gok Wan it's me.
So stuff you fate! I've posted it. Ha! In. your. face.
Being so sure that I would hit my goal weight yesterday has meant that I've now become incredibly paranoid about why I didn't hit it and I've started to think that I jinxed myself by doing certain things like,
1) Writing out a blog post in preparation for me reaching goal
2) Not taking a photo all day for Project 365, so certain was I that the photo for yesterday would feature something about me reaching goal weight.
3) Planning to maybe, possibly take an after picture to go with a before picture that I found.
See? Tempting fate.
Or.
I could have put on 0.5lb because I just ate too much last week.
We'll never know.
But just in case there is such a thing as fate and just in case it has just bitchslapped me in the face for getting ideas above my station I'm going to post what I was planning to write when I'd reached goal, therefore cancelling out any bad vibes.
So what follows is some stuff that I've written down over the past 9 months - just some observations that I have made since I started losing weight. They're absolutely not dieting tips, different things work for different people and I wouldn't presume to tell you the "right" way to go about dieting, these are merely unexpected things that have happened to me along the way.
1. You go through stages where you suddenly appear a lot slimmer. You may lose a steady 1/2lbs each week but there is a sudden KABLAMMO moment where you look like you’ve lost a stone overnight. You’ll know when these stages are because these are the times that everyone notices you’re losing weight and gives you compliments. It’s also the time when your jeans go from fitting you to falling down with apparently no in-between stage.
2. You can lose weight from your fingers and your feet. Crazy but true. I can now fit into a size 7 in some shops when I never could before. Some shoes have had to be binned because they fall off, even with inserts put in them and the ring that my Mum bought me now fits, I’d been in denial that the reason it didn’t fit was because my fingers were too fat.
3. And speaking of denial...you don’t realise it but you’re in it. Once you lose weight you can look back at yourself and shake your head in disbelief and go “What were you thinking?” How could you possibly kid yourself that what you were eating is ok and not too fattening?! How could you look at photos of yourself and not see it? Or dismiss it as a bad photo of you? Simple answer is it’s easier to be in denial and I have seen just how easy it is to delude yourself – a trap I’m determined not to fall into again (unless I decide that the reason I've put weight on is not because I ate too much but because I tempted fate. See? Told you it was easy to fall into.)
4. You, as a person, become all about the weight. When you’re fat no-one mentions your body shape or size (making it easier to be in denial by the way), once you start losing weight it all becomes about that. You know that people are looking at your body and in a strange way you actually become a little more self-conscious than you ever were when you were overweight.
5. The expense. Holy moly is it expensive. New everything. New jeans, new trousers, new skirts, new tops, new belts, new bras, new knickers (yes really, some of mine were in danger of falling around my ankles). You might have an income to support shopping in Monsoon or you might be frequenting charity shops but either way, losing weight costs money. It’s been horrible not being able to afford nice things – you’ve lost all this weight and you want to look good, not be walking down the road with one hand holding your trousers up. I should have been like one woman in my WW meeting whose husband gave her £10 for every 1lb she lost. (I know. Where do they grow husbands like that?!)
6. I have a strange fear of bones. I don’t particularly like touching them, it makes me squirm somewhat. Tell me a story about you breaking your collarbone and you’ll see me start to squint and shy away. So the reappearance of my collar bones has had a strange impact on me. It’s great to see them and go “Hell yes I’ve lost weight” but at the same time the sight of them makes me feel a little queasy. Same with my pelvis, we do an exercise in Pump that means your hands touch your pelvic bone and it really makes me want to vomit. (Please note, this makes me sound like I’m a walking skeleton, I’m really not, they’re just noticeable to me because of my slight issue with them.) My knees freaked me out the other day when I accidentally rested my hand on them – where’s all the squishiness gone? Bleurgh.
7. I now have absolutely no idea of what suits me. My whole body shape has changed and I've been left feeling a little bit bewildered. It's difficult to know if you didn't get away with certain things because you were fat or because you just don't suit them. I have overcome my fear of leggings, that was definitely a fat thing, and I'm slowly overcoming my huge fear of dresses now that I've discovered that my legs are nowhere near as bad as I thought they were, they were just too big. But it's quite scary I have no idea what my 'style' is or what I should be wearing or how I should be wearing it, if ever there was a girl in need of Gok Wan it's me.
So stuff you fate! I've posted it. Ha! In. your. face.
Thursday, 30 December 2010
2010 - A Year in Review
This year I...
1. Got accused of being a terrorist
2. Finally finally got my wish for a niece
3. Learned to crochet and produced 4 blankets
4. I met Eddie, the cat of my life, only to lose him when he moved away (still sad about that by the way)
5. Broke someone’s heart.
6. Moved in with Dorothy
7. I had an exhibition with my fellow Stitchettes
8. I signed up to the cult of Weightwatchers and kinda lost an awful lot of weight (4 stone so far!)
9. I, you know, nearly died and stuff.
10. Saw more snow than I have ever seen in my whole life
11. Visited a new part of France
12. Fell in love again
13. Started a new blog (you’re totally reading it!)
14. Spent time with American Girl and American Boy for the first time in nearly 2 years (how was that a year ago already?!)
15. Watched someone pass away (the ex’s Grandmother)
16. Hosted my first ever giveaway on my old blog (I really need to do that again you know - next year I promise)
17. Saw Flight of the Conchords and Goldfrapp in concert
18. Got a better idea of who my real friends are.
19. Met Roy Hattersley and Henry Winkler (as you do)
20. Visited Blackpool for the first time
21. Saw one of my best friend’s get married
22. Babysat for guinea pigs for the very first time
23. Walked across the Humber Bridge for the very first time
24. Discovered that the gym wasn’t that scary after all and discovered the delights of Zumba.
All in all, not too shabby I reckon. Here's hoping 2011 is not quite as eventful!
1. Got accused of being a terrorist
2. Finally finally got my wish for a niece
3. Learned to crochet and produced 4 blankets
4. I met Eddie, the cat of my life, only to lose him when he moved away (still sad about that by the way)
5. Broke someone’s heart.
6. Moved in with Dorothy
7. I had an exhibition with my fellow Stitchettes
8. I signed up to the cult of Weightwatchers and kinda lost an awful lot of weight (4 stone so far!)
9. I, you know, nearly died and stuff.
10. Saw more snow than I have ever seen in my whole life
11. Visited a new part of France
12. Fell in love again
13. Started a new blog (you’re totally reading it!)
14. Spent time with American Girl and American Boy for the first time in nearly 2 years (how was that a year ago already?!)
15. Watched someone pass away (the ex’s Grandmother)
16. Hosted my first ever giveaway on my old blog (I really need to do that again you know - next year I promise)
17. Saw Flight of the Conchords and Goldfrapp in concert
18. Got a better idea of who my real friends are.
19. Met Roy Hattersley and Henry Winkler (as you do)
20. Visited Blackpool for the first time
21. Saw one of my best friend’s get married
22. Babysat for guinea pigs for the very first time
23. Walked across the Humber Bridge for the very first time
24. Discovered that the gym wasn’t that scary after all and discovered the delights of Zumba.
All in all, not too shabby I reckon. Here's hoping 2011 is not quite as eventful!
Monday, 15 November 2010
Friend or Foe?
Do you have one of those friends who you get on with pretty well and they’re supportive but there’s just something about them that you’re not quite sure you can trust? And you can never quite put your finger on it until they suddenly sweep the rug out from under your feet and reveal their true colours?
Me too. Except the friend I’m talking about is Weightwatchers.
Weightwatchers and I have been pretty good friends for the past 6 months. We got off to a rocky start, counting Points was incredibly irritating and frustrating at times, but mostly the journey has been good. Since the beginning of May there have been 2 weeks where I have put weight on and I think my weight loss averages out at about 1.6lbs a week, so just below the recommended 2lbs of weekly weight loss. I think that’s kind of good going to be honest with you.
Once the initial Points counting annoyance was out of the way I seemed to slip effortlessly into a new routine and a new way of living. I say “effortless” simply because I didn’t realise I’d changed until the change was already upon me and I saw that I was eating better, eating less crap and exercising more. I was happy and more than that I was rather bloody proud of myself – I didn’t think it would work to be honest and I’m impressed that I managed to prove my negative little head (along with all those people who have been dying for me to fail at this) wrong.
Me and Weightwatchers were buddies. We were pals. I thought that Weightwatchers was probably proud of me too. After all I have to be a great statistic for them – steadily losing weight, following the Points system at the beginning, and learning a new way of eating and living which is healthy. Isn’t that what Weightwatchers is all about?
My concerns about my friendship with Weightwatchers first materialised when I got to my 3 stone landmark. I don’t usually stay for the meetings (I find them incredibly irritating, not the content of them, but the people that attend) but decided that I would to see what was going on. I got my Silver 7 and an embarrassing round of applause and my leader asked me if I had any tips to share that had helped me on my journey. I explained that sticking with it in the first couple of weeks and persevering with the Points counting was really really worth it to get you thinking about portion size and what you’re eating and that it had become so ingrained in me that I hadn’t actually tracked in months.
I realised I’d said the wrong thing. I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong and yet I had the distinct impression that Weightwatchers had fallen out with me a little bit. Surely this was the goal though? The point is that they show you a new way to look at what you’re eating, you make changes and these changes set you up for life so you can maintain your weight – isn’t it?
Now I’m beginning to wonder.
You may, or may not, know that Weightwatchers introduced a new plan last week. I was a naive soul who didn’t realise they did this quite regularly, silly little me thought that the Plan when I joined was just the general Weightwatchers Plan but apparently not.
Now. Before I begin I would like you to pay very close attention to what I’m about to say. I think the new Propoints Plan is VERY GOOD. Instead of just counting calories and fat you’re asked to know look at carbohydrates, protein and fibre into the balance – a much healthier way of looking at things. I AM NOT KNOCKING THE NEW PLAN. Are we clear? Good. I shall continue.
I stayed for the meeting to learn more about the new ProPoints plan. There is a new Points-finder which is almost comically difficult to navigate. I think I’m a pretty bright person but I struggled with this one – a cynical person might say that what they really want you to do is spend £7-odd on a new ProPoints calculator.....
One of the ‘helpers’ came to show a few of us how to work the wheel and I said “To be honest I think I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing.” The helped looked at me as if I’d spit on her “But this is really good, you have to do this one.” I was a little puzzled and actually more than a little bit riled up.
I think that this was the moment that Weightwatchers and I fell out. Weightwatchers appears to be telling me that everything I’ve done up to this point in time is wrong. “Forget everything you know about the Points system because this is all completely different” said my Leader. Right. So this Plan that you’ve been championing up until last week you’re now saying is completely rubbish and you have to forget about it.
I was actually genuinely hurt. Weightwatchers hurt me. I felt that they were trying to take away from me all the successes I’ve achieved up to date. I felt like they were saying that my weight loss was down to doing the “wrong” thing. I went from feeling incredibly proud of my weight loss to feeling a little unbalanced and a little crappy. I felt that was mean – don’t take away from me what I’ve achieved – I’ve lost nearly 3.5 stone in 6 months, don’t tell me that’s rubbish because I didn’t do it according to your latest plan.
And then it hit me. Weightwatchers isn’t really my friend. I don’t think it wants me to succeed. It doesn’t want me to change my habits sufficiently so that I stop tracking and don’t need them anymore. It doesn’t want me to not be reliant on buying all of their products. Weightwatchers wants me to need it. It wants me to track for the rest of my life so that I’m scared of stopping and continue to give them my hard-earned cash each month. It was an unsettling realisation.
I could destruct my friendship immediately and never go back again but I don’t think there’s any need for rash decisions like that. I’m only 11lbs away from goal and I don’t own scales at home, I still like that weekly weigh-in and want to keep on doing it.
But, like that friend who stabs you in the back just that once, the friendship will never be the same again, there’ll always be a hint of mistrust. And I find that very sad.
Me too. Except the friend I’m talking about is Weightwatchers.
Weightwatchers and I have been pretty good friends for the past 6 months. We got off to a rocky start, counting Points was incredibly irritating and frustrating at times, but mostly the journey has been good. Since the beginning of May there have been 2 weeks where I have put weight on and I think my weight loss averages out at about 1.6lbs a week, so just below the recommended 2lbs of weekly weight loss. I think that’s kind of good going to be honest with you.
Once the initial Points counting annoyance was out of the way I seemed to slip effortlessly into a new routine and a new way of living. I say “effortless” simply because I didn’t realise I’d changed until the change was already upon me and I saw that I was eating better, eating less crap and exercising more. I was happy and more than that I was rather bloody proud of myself – I didn’t think it would work to be honest and I’m impressed that I managed to prove my negative little head (along with all those people who have been dying for me to fail at this) wrong.
Me and Weightwatchers were buddies. We were pals. I thought that Weightwatchers was probably proud of me too. After all I have to be a great statistic for them – steadily losing weight, following the Points system at the beginning, and learning a new way of eating and living which is healthy. Isn’t that what Weightwatchers is all about?
My concerns about my friendship with Weightwatchers first materialised when I got to my 3 stone landmark. I don’t usually stay for the meetings (I find them incredibly irritating, not the content of them, but the people that attend) but decided that I would to see what was going on. I got my Silver 7 and an embarrassing round of applause and my leader asked me if I had any tips to share that had helped me on my journey. I explained that sticking with it in the first couple of weeks and persevering with the Points counting was really really worth it to get you thinking about portion size and what you’re eating and that it had become so ingrained in me that I hadn’t actually tracked in months.
I realised I’d said the wrong thing. I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong and yet I had the distinct impression that Weightwatchers had fallen out with me a little bit. Surely this was the goal though? The point is that they show you a new way to look at what you’re eating, you make changes and these changes set you up for life so you can maintain your weight – isn’t it?
Now I’m beginning to wonder.
You may, or may not, know that Weightwatchers introduced a new plan last week. I was a naive soul who didn’t realise they did this quite regularly, silly little me thought that the Plan when I joined was just the general Weightwatchers Plan but apparently not.
Now. Before I begin I would like you to pay very close attention to what I’m about to say. I think the new Propoints Plan is VERY GOOD. Instead of just counting calories and fat you’re asked to know look at carbohydrates, protein and fibre into the balance – a much healthier way of looking at things. I AM NOT KNOCKING THE NEW PLAN. Are we clear? Good. I shall continue.
I stayed for the meeting to learn more about the new ProPoints plan. There is a new Points-finder which is almost comically difficult to navigate. I think I’m a pretty bright person but I struggled with this one – a cynical person might say that what they really want you to do is spend £7-odd on a new ProPoints calculator.....
One of the ‘helpers’ came to show a few of us how to work the wheel and I said “To be honest I think I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing.” The helped looked at me as if I’d spit on her “But this is really good, you have to do this one.” I was a little puzzled and actually more than a little bit riled up.
I think that this was the moment that Weightwatchers and I fell out. Weightwatchers appears to be telling me that everything I’ve done up to this point in time is wrong. “Forget everything you know about the Points system because this is all completely different” said my Leader. Right. So this Plan that you’ve been championing up until last week you’re now saying is completely rubbish and you have to forget about it.
I was actually genuinely hurt. Weightwatchers hurt me. I felt that they were trying to take away from me all the successes I’ve achieved up to date. I felt like they were saying that my weight loss was down to doing the “wrong” thing. I went from feeling incredibly proud of my weight loss to feeling a little unbalanced and a little crappy. I felt that was mean – don’t take away from me what I’ve achieved – I’ve lost nearly 3.5 stone in 6 months, don’t tell me that’s rubbish because I didn’t do it according to your latest plan.
And then it hit me. Weightwatchers isn’t really my friend. I don’t think it wants me to succeed. It doesn’t want me to change my habits sufficiently so that I stop tracking and don’t need them anymore. It doesn’t want me to not be reliant on buying all of their products. Weightwatchers wants me to need it. It wants me to track for the rest of my life so that I’m scared of stopping and continue to give them my hard-earned cash each month. It was an unsettling realisation.
I could destruct my friendship immediately and never go back again but I don’t think there’s any need for rash decisions like that. I’m only 11lbs away from goal and I don’t own scales at home, I still like that weekly weigh-in and want to keep on doing it.
But, like that friend who stabs you in the back just that once, the friendship will never be the same again, there’ll always be a hint of mistrust. And I find that very sad.
Saturday, 2 October 2010
Why I hate changing rooms
Ok. So losing this weight (38lbs so far thank you very much) has been great. I feel a little happier in myself and the gym is a slightly more pleasurable experience now that I don’t nearly die on the treadmill. But there’s one huge downside.
Clothes.
I’m not a girly girl. There are few things I hate more in life than shopping. The idea of a long day of aimless wandering in shops brings me out in a cold sweat. I don’t do aimless. I do planned. If I know what I want I’m sorted, “I need a pair of jeans” I can tell myself and off I will go and find a pair of jeans. Shopping trips last a couple of hours, three max, and then I have the rest of my day to enjoy.
Now I find myself in a strange situation of having lost a lot of weight but having no idea what suits me or if I can get away with wearing something now that I’m a little thinner. All too often you see someone squeezed in a bit of lycra, splurging on all sides, proudly proclaiming “I’ve lost 3 stone!” Brilliant for you but that doesn’t mean jeggings are your friend love.
Far worse than any of this however is my one true horror. The changing room. Why are they such devilishly awful places? Why do they have terrible lighting and horrendous mirrors? And why are they so freakin’ small?!
One incident more than any other demonstrates my terrible experiences with changing rooms...
Earlier in the year I was heading for a night out. My weight having ever so slowly crept up and up and up and up I realised that I really didn’t have a lot to wear and certainly nothing that I felt comfortable in. I went into Next to have a look and saw something floral and floaty. I figured it would do, and locating my size I ran into the changing room.
I squeezed into the cubicle, and got my top off, the whole time remaining completely paranoid that people could see in (why do the curtains never fully go all the way across?!) and in total fear that someone would walk in on me (that did actually happen to me once in Primark. While I was trying on bras. Seriously.)
I got the top off its hanger and tried to pull it on. It wasn’t really going anywhere. “My god please don’t tell me I’m this fat” I prayed to whichever god was listening. Then I realised that I was being an idiot and there was a zip on the side. Down came the zip and I tried again but was sweating with the exertion and nearly in tears because it really was a struggle to get on.
I zipped it up and looked at myself. Not too bad, it didn’t look horrendous, but what the hell was with this extra piece of fabric down on my left hand side, what could that be for, where was it supposed to go?
And then I realised...
It was a leg hole.
I had just shoved my whole body through one leg hole of a playsuit.
I was torn between being immensely relieved that the reason I had difficulties getting it on wasn’t because I was ridiculously fat and being immensely horrified that someone would even make a playsuit in my size. There is no way that someone of my size back then (and I would argue, my size now) should be wearing a playsuit.
As I left the changing rooms the member of staff asked me “Was that any good for you?” and I felt I could shake my head and say emphatically, “No. No that was not good for me.”
My changing room fear continues unabated.
Clothes.
I’m not a girly girl. There are few things I hate more in life than shopping. The idea of a long day of aimless wandering in shops brings me out in a cold sweat. I don’t do aimless. I do planned. If I know what I want I’m sorted, “I need a pair of jeans” I can tell myself and off I will go and find a pair of jeans. Shopping trips last a couple of hours, three max, and then I have the rest of my day to enjoy.
Now I find myself in a strange situation of having lost a lot of weight but having no idea what suits me or if I can get away with wearing something now that I’m a little thinner. All too often you see someone squeezed in a bit of lycra, splurging on all sides, proudly proclaiming “I’ve lost 3 stone!” Brilliant for you but that doesn’t mean jeggings are your friend love.
Far worse than any of this however is my one true horror. The changing room. Why are they such devilishly awful places? Why do they have terrible lighting and horrendous mirrors? And why are they so freakin’ small?!
One incident more than any other demonstrates my terrible experiences with changing rooms...
Earlier in the year I was heading for a night out. My weight having ever so slowly crept up and up and up and up I realised that I really didn’t have a lot to wear and certainly nothing that I felt comfortable in. I went into Next to have a look and saw something floral and floaty. I figured it would do, and locating my size I ran into the changing room.
I squeezed into the cubicle, and got my top off, the whole time remaining completely paranoid that people could see in (why do the curtains never fully go all the way across?!) and in total fear that someone would walk in on me (that did actually happen to me once in Primark. While I was trying on bras. Seriously.)
I got the top off its hanger and tried to pull it on. It wasn’t really going anywhere. “My god please don’t tell me I’m this fat” I prayed to whichever god was listening. Then I realised that I was being an idiot and there was a zip on the side. Down came the zip and I tried again but was sweating with the exertion and nearly in tears because it really was a struggle to get on.
I zipped it up and looked at myself. Not too bad, it didn’t look horrendous, but what the hell was with this extra piece of fabric down on my left hand side, what could that be for, where was it supposed to go?
And then I realised...
It was a leg hole.
I had just shoved my whole body through one leg hole of a playsuit.
I was torn between being immensely relieved that the reason I had difficulties getting it on wasn’t because I was ridiculously fat and being immensely horrified that someone would even make a playsuit in my size. There is no way that someone of my size back then (and I would argue, my size now) should be wearing a playsuit.
As I left the changing rooms the member of staff asked me “Was that any good for you?” and I felt I could shake my head and say emphatically, “No. No that was not good for me.”
My changing room fear continues unabated.
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
I never thought I'd say this...
...but I’m officially a Weightwatchers Cult member. I accept this and welcome it with open arms.
Eventually I had to ask myself this question – if you know that “all you have to do” is eat less and exercise more, then why aren’t you?
I can’t answer that to be honest. Who knows. Maybe it was just my fear of failing – better to not try Weightwatchers and sit and sneer at it instead of giving it a go and perhaps finding it didn’t work for me.
But I'm to reign myself in when I can feel I'm proselytising. Because at the end of the day, everyone has to find the thing that works for them. Weightwatchers is working for me. It might not work for others. Instead I’m concentrating on myself, it’s not up to me to tell people that Weightwatchers is great, if they want to lose weight they will find their own way. I will continue doing my own thing.
The biggest thing I found difficult to comprehend before is that Weightwatchers isn’t really a diet. I genuinely don’t believe it is. It’s something which has allowed me to make that “lifestyle change” that really annoying thin people always bang on about. It’s educated me – I thought that I was fairly savvy about food before but I’ve learnt I really wasn’t. My main problem was a question of portion size – I would think I was being healthy and would have been if I wasn’t eating enough for 3 people.
I won't lie, at the beginning it’s a complete pain in the arse and you have to weigh things and check things and yes it’s a little time consuming and irritating. But it really all depends on how much you want to lose weight. If you really want to do it, you’ll make the effort. At this point I don’t weigh things anywhere near as much as I used to, I know how much rice/pasta/meat to cook and I’m confident enough that I’m generally making the right choices to stay within my points allowance.
It all depends on how you take the term “diet”. If it means “you can’t eat what you want” then yes, fair enough, it’s a diet. But that’s life. I can’t eat everything that I want to eat, that’s how I ended up over 16 stone. Can I have some of what I want? Hell yes. Do I have crisps most days? Erm hell yes. I just don’t eat an entire family size bag each night.
Do I ever have that horrible hungry feeling you get when you’re dieting and not allowing yourself anything nice? Never. (Which has amazed me because I’m eating far far less than I used to) And if I do get hungry, I eat. I just eat an apple instead of bar of chocolate. To me that’s not dieting, it’s being sensible.
(I won’t lie. The embolism kick-started me into taking this Weightwatchers thing seriously. I want to do everything I can to make sure that my body is working properly. It is definitely something that helps as a motivating factor.)
Nobody understands Weightwatchers less than my Mum. In fact no-one understands the concept of weight loss less than my Mum. She is, always has been and always will be, a skinny malink. She doesn’t need to worry about getting fat because her appetite won’t allow it, I barely see her finish a plate of food, and that’s fine, it’s just how she’s meant to be. This means that she finds it incredibly difficult to understand;
Over the past 3 days I had two irritating, yet hilarious, conversations with her that perfectly illustrate how much she doesn’t “get it.”
Sunday
Mum: What have you been doing today?
Me: Not a lot, did my laundry, did some baking [made these muffins as recommended by Mooncalf. They’re about 3.5 points each if you speak the lingo. And more importantly, frickin' acesome.]
Mum: [high pitched voice] Ooh 1lb! 1lb! [referring to my 1lb gain last week]
Me: Yeah it’s really not a big deal Mum, for a start they’re low fat and secondly I’m not going to eat the whole freakin’ lot am I? I’m allowed a muffin every so often. JESUS.
Tuesday
Mum: How did weigh-in go?
Me: Good, I lost 4lbs and have now officially lost 2 stone [in your face 1lb gain last week!]
Mum: Oh my goodness you’re losing weight too fast.
Me: Yeah I’m not being daft, I’m not starving myself, it’s just the way it’s going at the moment, I’ll plateau sooner or later.
Mum: Well you can’t lose too much, when you stop Weightwatchers you’ll put it all on again.
Me: Yeah, thanks for the excellent support Mum.
She means well, she just doesn’t get it. And that’s fine. I don’t care if no-one else gets it. I do. And that’s enough for me.
It’s had the unfortunate side effect of turning me into the person I used to hate though.
But with that I’ve had a revelation. I only hated that person because;
a) I hated myself, and
b) I didn’t understand what the hell they were talking about.
I didn’t want to hear about people successfully losing weight because I knew that I was steadily gaining. I didn’t want to believe that Weightwatchers was necessary because we all know that if you eat less and exercise more then you lose weight.
Eventually I had to ask myself this question – if you know that “all you have to do” is eat less and exercise more, then why aren’t you?
I can’t answer that to be honest. Who knows. Maybe it was just my fear of failing – better to not try Weightwatchers and sit and sneer at it instead of giving it a go and perhaps finding it didn’t work for me.
I’ve tried hard not to become a Weightwatchers Apostle and have failed a few times recently. It’s hit me hard because I swore I wouldn’t become one of those people. But I now understand how it happens. You rarely get people asking about Weightwatchers and wanting to know how it works, instead you get faced by people (who were like me two months ago) who sit and tell you what Weightwatchers is and isn’t and why it doesn’t/won’t work. I do feel defensive about it, I has worked for me and you want to try and desperately explain that it’s not the big bad d-word and that it’s really sensible.
But I'm to reign myself in when I can feel I'm proselytising. Because at the end of the day, everyone has to find the thing that works for them. Weightwatchers is working for me. It might not work for others. Instead I’m concentrating on myself, it’s not up to me to tell people that Weightwatchers is great, if they want to lose weight they will find their own way. I will continue doing my own thing.
The biggest thing I found difficult to comprehend before is that Weightwatchers isn’t really a diet. I genuinely don’t believe it is. It’s something which has allowed me to make that “lifestyle change” that really annoying thin people always bang on about. It’s educated me – I thought that I was fairly savvy about food before but I’ve learnt I really wasn’t. My main problem was a question of portion size – I would think I was being healthy and would have been if I wasn’t eating enough for 3 people.
I won't lie, at the beginning it’s a complete pain in the arse and you have to weigh things and check things and yes it’s a little time consuming and irritating. But it really all depends on how much you want to lose weight. If you really want to do it, you’ll make the effort. At this point I don’t weigh things anywhere near as much as I used to, I know how much rice/pasta/meat to cook and I’m confident enough that I’m generally making the right choices to stay within my points allowance.
It all depends on how you take the term “diet”. If it means “you can’t eat what you want” then yes, fair enough, it’s a diet. But that’s life. I can’t eat everything that I want to eat, that’s how I ended up over 16 stone. Can I have some of what I want? Hell yes. Do I have crisps most days? Erm hell yes. I just don’t eat an entire family size bag each night.
Do I ever have that horrible hungry feeling you get when you’re dieting and not allowing yourself anything nice? Never. (Which has amazed me because I’m eating far far less than I used to) And if I do get hungry, I eat. I just eat an apple instead of bar of chocolate. To me that’s not dieting, it’s being sensible.
(I won’t lie. The embolism kick-started me into taking this Weightwatchers thing seriously. I want to do everything I can to make sure that my body is working properly. It is definitely something that helps as a motivating factor.)
Nobody understands Weightwatchers less than my Mum. In fact no-one understands the concept of weight loss less than my Mum. She is, always has been and always will be, a skinny malink. She doesn’t need to worry about getting fat because her appetite won’t allow it, I barely see her finish a plate of food, and that’s fine, it’s just how she’s meant to be. This means that she finds it incredibly difficult to understand;
a) how people get fat in the first place, and
b) how people go about losing weight once they’ve got fat.
Over the past 3 days I had two irritating, yet hilarious, conversations with her that perfectly illustrate how much she doesn’t “get it.”
Sunday
Mum: What have you been doing today?
Me: Not a lot, did my laundry, did some baking [made these muffins as recommended by Mooncalf. They’re about 3.5 points each if you speak the lingo. And more importantly, frickin' acesome.]
Mum: [high pitched voice] Ooh 1lb! 1lb! [referring to my 1lb gain last week]
Me: Yeah it’s really not a big deal Mum, for a start they’re low fat and secondly I’m not going to eat the whole freakin’ lot am I? I’m allowed a muffin every so often. JESUS.
Tuesday
Mum: How did weigh-in go?
Me: Good, I lost 4lbs and have now officially lost 2 stone [in your face 1lb gain last week!]
Mum: Oh my goodness you’re losing weight too fast.
Me: Yeah I’m not being daft, I’m not starving myself, it’s just the way it’s going at the moment, I’ll plateau sooner or later.
Mum: Well you can’t lose too much, when you stop Weightwatchers you’ll put it all on again.
Me: Yeah, thanks for the excellent support Mum.
She means well, she just doesn’t get it. And that’s fine. I don’t care if no-one else gets it. I do. And that’s enough for me.
Wednesday, 4 August 2010
Falling off the wagon
It had to happen sooner or later.
This week was the first week I put on weight since starting The Cult of Weightwatchers at the beginning of May.
1 whole pound.
I knew it was coming, the week had been chaos and I’d ended up eating out about 5 times during the week and didn’t have chance to go to the gym. I think it was about Thursday when I abandoned all hope of losing weight that week and decided to fall off the wagon in spectacular style. I decided to just go for it and eat whatever I wanted and to the devil with it all.
But then the guilt set in. Because I knew that I should have told myself not to give up. I should have tracked what I could and made more sensible choices when I was eating out. I should have made more of an effort with my lunches and made a big vat of soup so I had something to take into work each day, or got up earlier to make a salad, instead of ending up spending money I don’t have in M&S and Boots. I should have made more of an effort to go the supermarket that sells the sugar-free jelly sachets so I could have a zero points snack. I should have made more of an effort to go to the fruit and veg stall in the market. I should have made a decision not to get complacent because I’ve done so well so far and people have noticed and been complimenting me.
But I didn’t.
Tuesday was a horrible day. I hate Tuesdays at the best of times but this one seemed to drag on forever and the closer it got to meeting time the worse I felt. I felt sick. I wanted to cry.
I understand these reactions may seem extreme but I was just so disappointed with myself. I had no-one else to blame but myself for what had happened and that’s never a good feeling, there should always be someone else to blame. Plus. I absolutely hate failing at things. Hate it hate it hate it. To the point where I won’t try things because not trying seems easier than trying and failing. I didn’t want to fail at this, not when things have been going so well.
I got home and sat there. “I’m not going to go” I told myself. I didn’t want to know what the scales were going to say. I didn’t want it written down in black and white. I told myself that I could pretend this week never happened, skip it, and just go next week. But I knew I couldn’t. Sometimes you have to just face the music.
I dragged myself there. They must have known by the look on my face that I didn’t want to be there. If they hadn’t known they probably figured it out when I said “I really don’t want to be here.” But they were lovely as they always are and my leader, Laura, said to me “But that’s good that you’ve come here, it’s really good.”
I stepped on the scales and closed my eyes and held my breath (and then thought, “Wait, what if all this air I’m holding in is weighing me down?” and let it out again).
1lb.
It’s so insignificant. And it really is. I was definitely imagining a 3-4lb weight gain so really I was happy but that 1lb might as well have been 10lbs for the guilt and annoyance I felt.
But ultimately I left feeling renewed. I’ve had my slip up. We’re all allowed them from time to time. I just need to push a little bit harder this week.
I’m back tracking like the good girl I am and Dorothy and I are working on a rota for cooking so I know what I’m doing when. Most of the problem lately has been sheer laziness and getting back into the swing of cooking. There are loads of pieces of paper hanging about with recipes I’ve seen that I want to try out and now I need to get my backside in gear and sort it out. I’m trying to make time to go to the gym (difficult when I don’t really want it to rule my life) and making the extra effort to get my backside out of bed in the morning so I can walk in.
I would say fingers crossed for next week. But I shouldn’t have to say that. I am the only person that can be in control of that and it’s up to me to make sure that that 1lb has disappeared into thin air next Tuesday.
(But if you could maybe think nice thoughts that would be nice.)
PS Please do not worry. I am not letting WW rule my life. I am well aware that sometimes life is going to get in the way and it just won't be possible to lose weight every week and this is precisely what happened last week. I just wanted to document this occasion.
This week was the first week I put on weight since starting The Cult of Weightwatchers at the beginning of May.
1 whole pound.
I knew it was coming, the week had been chaos and I’d ended up eating out about 5 times during the week and didn’t have chance to go to the gym. I think it was about Thursday when I abandoned all hope of losing weight that week and decided to fall off the wagon in spectacular style. I decided to just go for it and eat whatever I wanted and to the devil with it all.
But then the guilt set in. Because I knew that I should have told myself not to give up. I should have tracked what I could and made more sensible choices when I was eating out. I should have made more of an effort with my lunches and made a big vat of soup so I had something to take into work each day, or got up earlier to make a salad, instead of ending up spending money I don’t have in M&S and Boots. I should have made more of an effort to go the supermarket that sells the sugar-free jelly sachets so I could have a zero points snack. I should have made more of an effort to go to the fruit and veg stall in the market. I should have made a decision not to get complacent because I’ve done so well so far and people have noticed and been complimenting me.
But I didn’t.
Tuesday was a horrible day. I hate Tuesdays at the best of times but this one seemed to drag on forever and the closer it got to meeting time the worse I felt. I felt sick. I wanted to cry.
I understand these reactions may seem extreme but I was just so disappointed with myself. I had no-one else to blame but myself for what had happened and that’s never a good feeling, there should always be someone else to blame. Plus. I absolutely hate failing at things. Hate it hate it hate it. To the point where I won’t try things because not trying seems easier than trying and failing. I didn’t want to fail at this, not when things have been going so well.
I got home and sat there. “I’m not going to go” I told myself. I didn’t want to know what the scales were going to say. I didn’t want it written down in black and white. I told myself that I could pretend this week never happened, skip it, and just go next week. But I knew I couldn’t. Sometimes you have to just face the music.
I dragged myself there. They must have known by the look on my face that I didn’t want to be there. If they hadn’t known they probably figured it out when I said “I really don’t want to be here.” But they were lovely as they always are and my leader, Laura, said to me “But that’s good that you’ve come here, it’s really good.”
I stepped on the scales and closed my eyes and held my breath (and then thought, “Wait, what if all this air I’m holding in is weighing me down?” and let it out again).
1lb.
It’s so insignificant. And it really is. I was definitely imagining a 3-4lb weight gain so really I was happy but that 1lb might as well have been 10lbs for the guilt and annoyance I felt.
But ultimately I left feeling renewed. I’ve had my slip up. We’re all allowed them from time to time. I just need to push a little bit harder this week.
I’m back tracking like the good girl I am and Dorothy and I are working on a rota for cooking so I know what I’m doing when. Most of the problem lately has been sheer laziness and getting back into the swing of cooking. There are loads of pieces of paper hanging about with recipes I’ve seen that I want to try out and now I need to get my backside in gear and sort it out. I’m trying to make time to go to the gym (difficult when I don’t really want it to rule my life) and making the extra effort to get my backside out of bed in the morning so I can walk in.
I would say fingers crossed for next week. But I shouldn’t have to say that. I am the only person that can be in control of that and it’s up to me to make sure that that 1lb has disappeared into thin air next Tuesday.
(But if you could maybe think nice thoughts that would be nice.)
PS Please do not worry. I am not letting WW rule my life. I am well aware that sometimes life is going to get in the way and it just won't be possible to lose weight every week and this is precisely what happened last week. I just wanted to document this occasion.
Wednesday, 7 July 2010
Two months in...
It’s now been about two months since The Big PE of 2010. Which also means it’s been the same amount of time since I said goodbye to my alcohol friend.
To be honest it’s not been that hard. Mainly because I’m your classic binge drinker. I could easily go for a few weeks without touching a drop, but when it came to a night out I’d make it my intention to make up for lost time.
Nevertheless the past couple of months have thrown up a few observations:
1. Company is key
A good friend of mine went through a period of a couple of years where she couldn’t drink because it would make her violently ill. I asked her how she coped with going out and being the only sober one and she said that a lot of it depended on who she was with. She was bang on.
If you’re with people who are nice and you get on well with, you won’t even notice that you’re the only one drinking. If you’re out with people who are awful the night will drag....and drag........and.....drag.
2. There is only so much Diet Coke you can drink
Fact. I’ve had to switch to water at some point in the night, or alternate between the two. There’s nothing that makes you feel like more of a pretentious boring twat than ordering a glass of water at the bar, at least when you have a coke you can pretend that there’s vodka in it and nobody is any the wiser but with water you are laid bare. Of course you could always pretend that you are so drunk you’ve had to switch to water.
3. Being trolleyed isn’t attractive
This has been rammed home to me with a sledgehammer. There’s nothing like cold sobriety to juxtapose extreme drunkenness. I’ve seen people, especially girls, be incredibly drunk and had that horrible feeling in the back of your mind where you think “Oh my god is that what I’m like when I’m drunk?....” It’s not a nice feeling. Whereas before I’d wake up with a stinking hangover and secretly feel a little bit cool for being so drunk the night before I now realise that I most definitely wasn’t cool and was probably more likely a loud-mouthed bint who was staggering all over the place and immensely annoying people with my witty repartee. Not a look I particularly want to go back to. If I ever do get to go out and drink again I’ll be taking a lot of care not to be that person.
4. Watch your mouth
Important to remember. You can’t get away with the old “Oh I didn’t know what I was saying I was so drunk last night” line. Other people’s tongues might be loosened once they’ve had a drink and this might encourage you to do the same. Stop. Think. Because in the morning you might regret being quite so honest with your opinion when you can’t hide behind the Long Island Iced Tea excuse.
5. Being sober is not easier on the wallet...
Seriously. I haven’t saved much more money by being sober. Soft drinks are ridiculously expensive and don’t get me started on the bar that wouldn’t give me tap water meaning I instead had to buy an incy wincy bottle of mineral water for nearly £3. Times like that I really wish I was still drinking. Being hammered meant that I could cope a little more with the rape and pillage of my bank account, when you don’t even have a hangover to show for your night out it makes me perversely resent spending the money that little bit more
Also. I’ve found myself caught up in buying rounds. Tricky because you don’t want to be the tightarse in the corner but does mean that you spend more money than you would like to because everyone else is on the wine. This is exacerbated by the fact that you don’t drink your soft drink/water as quickly as others drink their alcohol so you end up missing out on getting your drink back from someone else.
6. ...but might help your waistline
I don’t really know if this is true or not but it could be a contributory factor to my rather (in my opinion) impressive weight loss as of late (22lbs thank you very much. Man I had to fight with myself not to put that in massive capital letters). In WW speak, alcohol can be pretty hefty on the ol’ points side of things, diet coke and water on the other hand, is zero. Could be something in it.
---------------------
In summary, I think because my relationship with alcohol waskind of very unhealthy in the past, this experience has been, for the most part, a positive one. A re-education if you will.
But still. Sometimes. I’d give my right arm to feel that familiar dull ache behind my eyes on a Sunday morning which means you’ve had a cracker of a night before.
---------------------
(My INR rating, in case you were interested, (and obviously you are, why wouldn’t you be?) has been frankly all over the shop. We thought we’d cracked it when I had two readings which were between the correct range of 2 and 3 but my smugness was shortlived as it has since spiked up to a stonking 5.4, making me worried my blood was so thin I was going to start bleeding out of my eyes, before dropping to an annoyingly thick 1.6 in the space of a week. I’m back on Monday and fingers crossed it’s gone up a wee bit because I don’t want to have to start injecting Fragmin again and end up with a stomach looking like this again.)
To be honest it’s not been that hard. Mainly because I’m your classic binge drinker. I could easily go for a few weeks without touching a drop, but when it came to a night out I’d make it my intention to make up for lost time.
Nevertheless the past couple of months have thrown up a few observations:
1. Company is key
A good friend of mine went through a period of a couple of years where she couldn’t drink because it would make her violently ill. I asked her how she coped with going out and being the only sober one and she said that a lot of it depended on who she was with. She was bang on.
If you’re with people who are nice and you get on well with, you won’t even notice that you’re the only one drinking. If you’re out with people who are awful the night will drag....and drag........and.....drag.
2. There is only so much Diet Coke you can drink
Fact. I’ve had to switch to water at some point in the night, or alternate between the two. There’s nothing that makes you feel like more of a pretentious boring twat than ordering a glass of water at the bar, at least when you have a coke you can pretend that there’s vodka in it and nobody is any the wiser but with water you are laid bare. Of course you could always pretend that you are so drunk you’ve had to switch to water.
3. Being trolleyed isn’t attractive
This has been rammed home to me with a sledgehammer. There’s nothing like cold sobriety to juxtapose extreme drunkenness. I’ve seen people, especially girls, be incredibly drunk and had that horrible feeling in the back of your mind where you think “Oh my god is that what I’m like when I’m drunk?....” It’s not a nice feeling. Whereas before I’d wake up with a stinking hangover and secretly feel a little bit cool for being so drunk the night before I now realise that I most definitely wasn’t cool and was probably more likely a loud-mouthed bint who was staggering all over the place and immensely annoying people with my witty repartee. Not a look I particularly want to go back to. If I ever do get to go out and drink again I’ll be taking a lot of care not to be that person.
4. Watch your mouth
Important to remember. You can’t get away with the old “Oh I didn’t know what I was saying I was so drunk last night” line. Other people’s tongues might be loosened once they’ve had a drink and this might encourage you to do the same. Stop. Think. Because in the morning you might regret being quite so honest with your opinion when you can’t hide behind the Long Island Iced Tea excuse.
5. Being sober is not easier on the wallet...
Seriously. I haven’t saved much more money by being sober. Soft drinks are ridiculously expensive and don’t get me started on the bar that wouldn’t give me tap water meaning I instead had to buy an incy wincy bottle of mineral water for nearly £3. Times like that I really wish I was still drinking. Being hammered meant that I could cope a little more with the rape and pillage of my bank account, when you don’t even have a hangover to show for your night out it makes me perversely resent spending the money that little bit more
Also. I’ve found myself caught up in buying rounds. Tricky because you don’t want to be the tightarse in the corner but does mean that you spend more money than you would like to because everyone else is on the wine. This is exacerbated by the fact that you don’t drink your soft drink/water as quickly as others drink their alcohol so you end up missing out on getting your drink back from someone else.
6. ...but might help your waistline
I don’t really know if this is true or not but it could be a contributory factor to my rather (in my opinion) impressive weight loss as of late (22lbs thank you very much. Man I had to fight with myself not to put that in massive capital letters). In WW speak, alcohol can be pretty hefty on the ol’ points side of things, diet coke and water on the other hand, is zero. Could be something in it.
---------------------
In summary, I think because my relationship with alcohol was
But still. Sometimes. I’d give my right arm to feel that familiar dull ache behind my eyes on a Sunday morning which means you’ve had a cracker of a night before.
---------------------
(My INR rating, in case you were interested, (and obviously you are, why wouldn’t you be?) has been frankly all over the shop. We thought we’d cracked it when I had two readings which were between the correct range of 2 and 3 but my smugness was shortlived as it has since spiked up to a stonking 5.4, making me worried my blood was so thin I was going to start bleeding out of my eyes, before dropping to an annoyingly thick 1.6 in the space of a week. I’m back on Monday and fingers crossed it’s gone up a wee bit because I don’t want to have to start injecting Fragmin again and end up with a stomach looking like this again.)
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