Just a quick one tonight... where is it all going wrong??
I had a really good week this week - I'd had my head screwed on, had tracked all week and had actually enjoyed being back on the plan. Come weigh in day (Thursday) I wasn't expecting a massive loss, but I was quite sure that I was on to lose at least a pound or maybe even two. So up I go to the scales of woe... I take off my watch, my ID badge from work (which weighs nothing) and I stop short of taking out my hair bobble. I'm so busy congratulating myself for stopping one stage short of insane that I am awoken from my daydream by the words "ooh, 2 and 1/2 on"...
WHAT??! Are you sure? Did I leave my shoes on? Am I wearing jeans? Did I unwisely put my necklace of marbles on? No... I'm just having a shocker.
How do you recover from this? Any tips, anyone? I feel totally devastated, and although I've had a great day, points wise with 14 left for my tea, I've not been able to say no when my fella asked me if I wanted anything for the chippy...
Now, 14 and a half points over my daily limit, I'm desperately trying not to jump off the roof.
So - I'm going to have to do some SERIOUS work to claw this back. Think the bike will be staying out this week...
Weighty Katie
xxx
Friday 14 August 2009
Tuesday 11 August 2009
Small changes make a hefty difference...
It's amazing how you can miss the big picture, but you manage to spot little, bizarre things. For instance, so far I've lost a stone and 4lb, and I really can't see a change at all when I look in the mirror. But I have noticed some other, more subtle changes that no-one else would ever notice. No-one but me, that is....
1) I can paint my toenails now.
And remove the polish when I get bored of it. As many times as I want without making this noise - "hhnnneuurrgghh" - as I try and bend down to reach them. This is very new for me, my huge waistline has always been an obstacle in the long journey down to my toes. So much so, that once, after allowing my niece to paint my toenails a combination of fluorescent yellow, pink and orange (I'll do anything for some peace and quiet) I was left with said colours on my toes until it grew out. Very embarrasing at Aquafit for the next 6 weeks, I can tell you. Not to mention hospital check ups. However, this weekend, same lovely niece deployed same lovely colour scheme and I am proud to say it posed no problem for my bottle of remover, nor my arms as they reached down to my toes. Now I'm a little bit more trim I'm enjoying getting reacquainted with the lower half of my body. Might have to start shaving my legs though now...
2) My chin takes longer to hit my chest!
A couple of years ago when looking down (again, looking longingly at where I imagined my toes might be), I was met with the realisation that my chin had become plural, so much so, that I named them; there's Upper Chin, Lower Chin and Difficult Middle Chin. While Upper Chin was glued just under my lips, Lower Chin knew no such restrictions. Whenever I looked down, Lower Chin would hit my chest with a resounding wobble before I'd even made the decision to gaze down. But when I checked out my toes just a week ago, I realised that someone was missing... Where was Difficult Middle Chin? Upper Chin = check. Lower Chin = check. Middle Chin? Completely abandoned me to continue my weight loss crusade alone! Aboo hoo? I think not. I couldn't have been more chuffed. Upon closer inspection I have realised that it is actually Lower Chin who has left me for another, and Difficult Middle Chin is simply backfilling his place in the hope I won't notice. To me it is a mere formality; the important thing is that I now only have 2 chins and my "Jabba The Hut" impression is becoming less convincing. Whoop whoop!
3) My favourite one...my engagement ring fits again!
Just under 4 years ago, my lovely boyfriend asked me to marry him and in doing so, became my lovely fiance. He sealed the deal with the most beautiful diamond ring, and made me a very happy lady. However, three years on, a love of more or less anything edible and his talents at making gravy meant that I'd put on 3 stone and my fingers were starting to resemble cheap pork sausages. My ring looked Lilliputian in comparison to my Gulliver-esque hand, and although the area where my ring was stayed the same size, the surounding finger got fatter and fatter. I was forced to take off the ring in Sept 2008 rather than face a trip to A&E to have it cut off. I've been trying it on once a month since April, and hey, wouldn;t you know it fits again!! Finally I feel less Ugly Sister, more Cinderella. I know I have a reeeeallly long way to go, but this little win made me feel so great I just had to share it. :)
I might try taking some pictures, to see if I can spot the changes that everyone keeps telling me about. I'll put some up on here so I have a frame of reference to look back upon. Or at least something to scare me away from the chocolate. Ho ho.
Ta ta for now, Weighty Katie :)
xxx
Monday 10 August 2009
And the moral of the story is..?
...to never, ever eat before you point!
I have just made a major schoolboy (or should that be schoolgirl?) error. I am sure I am not alone in having done this…
For anyone following Weight Watchers, in fact anyone on any type of diet, there comes a time when you, for want of another phrase, can’t be right bothered with counting your points, or your calories, or your vegetables only beginning with a P or whatever diet you might be following. Instead you think to yourself “Right - I’ve been doing this a while, I can make an educated choice and be fairly confident that I’ll get it right…” and off you pop to choose your ingredients for tea. Well, this is just what I did this evening. I decided that fresh pasta was the order of the day. After all, it’s quick, easy, tasty and filling. Plus it’s made with spinach and ricotta, so I could even count the spinach towards my five a day, can’t I? And how much ricotta can possibly be in them? I mean come on - those liddle pasta parcels are TINY! What could possibly go wrong?
I even made a 0 point sauce to go with it. Actually, I still feel quite virtuous about that bit (polishes halo fervently). Tomatoes, courgettes, onion, mushrooms, pasatta, thrown together with garlic, ground black pepper, oregano and basil. Really yummy and not a single point. I don’t think Jamie Oliver’s bricking it, but I bet Delia would keep her eye on me. J
I sit down to tea with the other half, tuck in and enjoy my masterpiece. I then come to enter it into my online tracker, only to find out that the pasta came in at a whopping EIGHTEEN points a bag. Seriously. Having shared the bag between us, I’ve just inadvertently consumed 9 points in exchange for some, quite frankly, less than orgasmic pasta. I mean for 9 points, I want something that’s going to curl my toes and have people asking me what I’m still smiling about the next day. This just will not do. It’s a flippin’ good job that I made that 0 point sauce.
So, now I’m thumb twiddling. Anything to stop me eating over my points allowance for the day. I might even get the latch hook rug out that I bought started when my sister was pregnant (it’s a beautiful Eeyore rug that was meant for my gestational niece. My niece is now 9. Ahem).
Still, at least I’m blogging again. And at least I went to track it afterwards. These are both vast improvements on my habits over the past few months. Not that I’d stopped counting all together, far from it. I was counting each point that I ate over and above my daily allowance, and then counting the fee for Weight Watchers as it snuck silently out of my account each month. I’ve still been going to class to get weighed, but I haven’t been staying for the meeting, and I absolutely hate to admit it, but I think my leader is right; it really does make a difference when you stay to class, you just seem to leave with loads of resolve. I’ve been hovering around the same point, weight wise, for about 2 months now. I’ve been partaking in the “Dance of the Three Pounds”, you know, where you lose a pound, gain two, lose three, and then gain one. It’s getting reeeeeeally boring.
So – I’m tracking like a good’un this week, my freezer is full of emergency no point soup for when I’m eating my own elbows and my bike’s been brought out of hiding, blinking into the sunlight. I’ve been wondering for years what that little bristly nozzle on the vacuum cleaner was for, and now I know. It’s for hovering the dust off your ornamental bike. If anything I should be at least a couple of pounds lighter this week from the bike ride we went on. Not from all the hard work of pedalling uphill (and it was fricking hard, let me tell you), but from the many litres of blood I had taken from me by all the hungry mozzies. I hope they were counting points too while they were biting me to death.
Well, we shall see if my efforts have paid off on Thursday night when I weigh in. My sister is coming with me to Weight Watchers now, so hopefully having someone batting for my team will make things that bit easier. My scary numbers are updated and back on the right à; there for all to behold. I’m ready to take on the world! Or, at least, the fridge.
Until next time, love Weighty Katie
Dedication, that's what you need....
...and it's what I haven't had any of for the past few months! I just haven't had any spare time recently to blog, but it's funny, I have found plenty of time to scupper my diet. Hmmm....
I'm having a bit of insomniac fever at the moment, and this is an attempt to keep my hands busy and my head out of the fridge. It's working so far, but I can't promise I won't eat some of the computer keys in front of me (I mean, who uses the hash key, anyway?)
So then, tomorrow is another day, another week and a chance to start anew - again! I'll be back on the blog wagon and posting my up to date scary numbers in the hope that putting my very slow progress in black and white (or different shades of purple) will shock me into making more of an effort!
Off to bed now, ta ta! :)
I'm having a bit of insomniac fever at the moment, and this is an attempt to keep my hands busy and my head out of the fridge. It's working so far, but I can't promise I won't eat some of the computer keys in front of me (I mean, who uses the hash key, anyway?)
So then, tomorrow is another day, another week and a chance to start anew - again! I'll be back on the blog wagon and posting my up to date scary numbers in the hope that putting my very slow progress in black and white (or different shades of purple) will shock me into making more of an effort!
Off to bed now, ta ta! :)
Thursday 23 April 2009
As my dad would say...
...a piece of 4 by 2 wouldn't wipe the smile off my face right now.
I've just weighed in and have lost 4 and a half of your finest pounds!! Oh yes! The world is a brighter place!!!
Ask anyone losing weight what motivates them, and I'm sure you'll hear loads of different answers like "I just think about my kids, and how I want to be around to see them grow up, and then it makes me work harder to lose the weight", or "I'm doing this for great holiday/wedding/(insert suitable function here) pictures". And yes, these are fantastic reasons to stick at it. But I tell you something, for me, it’s all about the numbers. There is no feeling like it when the scale repays your efforts with a great number.
Picture it… You’re in a room with thirty extremely stressed out women of all shapes and sizes and you’ve all had the same conversations with yourself. Why? For today, it is Weigh In Day…
“What can I have for lunch that’s not too heavy?” What did I wear last week? Do these pants weigh more, less, or the same as the other ones?” Not forgetting the biggie - “Do I have my tea before or after weigh in?” (I know marriages that have ended over issues like this).
These might seem like mere trivialities in the grand scheme of things and yes, that’s because in the big picture, they are. What pants I have on bear no meaning upon how hard I have worked that week, but you just try and tell that to these women (of which I proudly count myself as one). You might think it’s a bit silly trying to squeeze out a wee before you hop on the scales, but I swear, I have actually seen a woman leap off the scales in horror as she realises she has forgotten to take out her chewing gum, then hop back on contented after she has balanced the offending item on her weigh in book.
I know all this sounds silly, but we are not within the big picture here. Forget taking it a week or a day at a time, a chubster has to take every hour as it comes, praying that their willpower will hold out just that bit longer. So, if you have a gain or a maintain one week, especially when you feel that you’ve worked really hard, it is the most difficult thing to recover from. A week is a really long period of time, and you have to wait another whole week to see how it progresses. You start asking questions of yourself. What did I do wrong? How can I make sure it doesn’t happen again? As if counting every scrap of food that passes your lips wasn’t hard enough, you now find yourself analysing everything you already counted once last week. And that’s the best case scenario, because what can also happen is that you feel so despondent you stroll right out of your class, into the nearest takeaway and order a deep fried Chinese banquet for 6. I mean, why bother trying, if it doesn’t work when you do it, you might as well forget it all, eh? Now where’s that pizza menu…
So, you can imagine my sheer delight when I hopped on the scales, full of the usual dread, and I’d actually lost 4.5 lb. I can’t believe that this week I get to be one of the smug women who actually wants to be asked how they did this week, instead of hiding in the bottom of my handbag. Jesus, if I win the raffle as well you might have to scrape me off the ceiling…
However, I must keep my blog short tonight as I have serious work to do. You see, the work I put in for this weight loss was actually done last week, not this week, and I’m pretty sure my past 7 days of decadence are about to catch up with me. I really don’t want that to happen, as it means I’ll have to go back to weighing my pants.
Hmmm…. I think I’ll just go for a quick walk…
Weighty Katie
xxx
I've just weighed in and have lost 4 and a half of your finest pounds!! Oh yes! The world is a brighter place!!!
Ask anyone losing weight what motivates them, and I'm sure you'll hear loads of different answers like "I just think about my kids, and how I want to be around to see them grow up, and then it makes me work harder to lose the weight", or "I'm doing this for great holiday/wedding/(insert suitable function here) pictures". And yes, these are fantastic reasons to stick at it. But I tell you something, for me, it’s all about the numbers. There is no feeling like it when the scale repays your efforts with a great number.
Picture it… You’re in a room with thirty extremely stressed out women of all shapes and sizes and you’ve all had the same conversations with yourself. Why? For today, it is Weigh In Day…
“What can I have for lunch that’s not too heavy?” What did I wear last week? Do these pants weigh more, less, or the same as the other ones?” Not forgetting the biggie - “Do I have my tea before or after weigh in?” (I know marriages that have ended over issues like this).
These might seem like mere trivialities in the grand scheme of things and yes, that’s because in the big picture, they are. What pants I have on bear no meaning upon how hard I have worked that week, but you just try and tell that to these women (of which I proudly count myself as one). You might think it’s a bit silly trying to squeeze out a wee before you hop on the scales, but I swear, I have actually seen a woman leap off the scales in horror as she realises she has forgotten to take out her chewing gum, then hop back on contented after she has balanced the offending item on her weigh in book.
I know all this sounds silly, but we are not within the big picture here. Forget taking it a week or a day at a time, a chubster has to take every hour as it comes, praying that their willpower will hold out just that bit longer. So, if you have a gain or a maintain one week, especially when you feel that you’ve worked really hard, it is the most difficult thing to recover from. A week is a really long period of time, and you have to wait another whole week to see how it progresses. You start asking questions of yourself. What did I do wrong? How can I make sure it doesn’t happen again? As if counting every scrap of food that passes your lips wasn’t hard enough, you now find yourself analysing everything you already counted once last week. And that’s the best case scenario, because what can also happen is that you feel so despondent you stroll right out of your class, into the nearest takeaway and order a deep fried Chinese banquet for 6. I mean, why bother trying, if it doesn’t work when you do it, you might as well forget it all, eh? Now where’s that pizza menu…
So, you can imagine my sheer delight when I hopped on the scales, full of the usual dread, and I’d actually lost 4.5 lb. I can’t believe that this week I get to be one of the smug women who actually wants to be asked how they did this week, instead of hiding in the bottom of my handbag. Jesus, if I win the raffle as well you might have to scrape me off the ceiling…
However, I must keep my blog short tonight as I have serious work to do. You see, the work I put in for this weight loss was actually done last week, not this week, and I’m pretty sure my past 7 days of decadence are about to catch up with me. I really don’t want that to happen, as it means I’ll have to go back to weighing my pants.
Hmmm…. I think I’ll just go for a quick walk…
Weighty Katie
xxx
Oh dear, I appear to have gone mental...
Thursday 23rd April
Why is it, when you have a bad week, even though your brain tells you that this week you need to knuckle down and try even harder than the week before, that your hands just keep shovelling naughty, naughty food into your mouth???
I went to my weigh in on Thursday 16th and had put on 2lb. I was gutted. I knew I’d had a heavy weekend, but I had made sure I had stuck to the plan for the most part. I even went on a 1hr speedwalk uphill (yes, you heard me, uphill) and according to my pedometer, burned over 800 calories. I then walked to work for the rest of the week, so I had done more exercise this week than I would normally ever do, and yet I still put on 2lb! The worst part was that I could no longer say I had lost ½ a stone, I had to go back to saying I had lost 5 and ½ pounds. Aboo hoo.
So, I left my meeting feeling a bit dejected, but nonetheless, determined to make this the week that I lost 14lb and the class leader had to refer me to the local A&E unit for losing weight too quickly (it’s one of my weirder fantasies). I stopped off at Tesco on the way home to get myself a treat (weigh in night is treat night, I dunno if anyone else does this but I imagine I’m not alone!). I wandered around for ages and finally settled on some fresh pasta (beef & red wine ravioli, yum), some tomato and mascarpone sauce, and some dough balls (whoops, was doing quite well until that point). When I go home I calculate the points out of interest and discover that the pasta and sauce isn’t that bad, it works out at 8 points for 1 portion. The dough balls are another 10 points though…I shared the dough balls with TOH and was then too full to eat the pasta (At this point I’m thinking that perhaps my stomach just can’t consume the vast amount it used to be able to, but you just watch how I prove myself wrong…)
The next day (Friday) was OK, I ate well throughout the day and had a Weight Watchers meal for tea before going out. We were supposed to be out on the lash but once I was out I discovered I was having such a good time, I didn’t need the usual three glasses of wine to make me feel OK about being out in public without my stick and my bell (“don’t look at me…unclean.. unclean!”). Throughout the course of the evening I had one vodka & diet coke (alright, so it was a double, but it was only one double!) and then I just had a load of diet cokes after that. Very good you might think. And it was, except that we all went back to my best friend’s house, where she had prepared a curry. Dammit. I had a bit of curry and a bit of rice, and then about ½ a naan bread. Again, normally I would have had a pile of curry and rice, 1 or two full naan breads and a lager to go with it, so it was a lot better than I could have eaten, but still, it ain’t no salad. And, the more observant of you will have noticed that I had eaten two evening meals. Doesn’t matter how healthy they were, there were still fricking two of ‘em. What happened? Did I forget I had already eaten? Or, was I offered some sort of grub and was so busy eating it, I forgot to check if I was even hungry? I did do my best to point it up the next day though, I called my friend and she told me the exact ingredients she had used, so I was able to put them all into the recipe planner, and it wasn’t too bad really.
But… dahn dahn daaaahhhn…Saturday was where it all went wrong… we went to a birthday party where they had “Rockyoke”…if you’re not familiar it’s karaoke with a live band, it’s pretty freakin’ awesome. The band that take it out and about (they're called "Dirty Weekend") were really good, and the whole setup was a great twist on your average karaoke night (it certainly made a change from 20 different renditions of"Angels" by Robbie Williams and a climactic drunken female chorus of that classic feminist anthem, "I Will Survive"...)
Also, my friend (whose birthday it was) had asked me and my sister to do a spot before the Rockyoke lads went on (we used to sing in pubs and clubs, we only really do stuff for friends these days but it was really nice to be asked). So, after singing for about ½ an hour, the hot food came out and I temporarily went mental and ate two (that’s right, TWO) trays of potato pie. With big crusts on. And mushy peas, which I‘m soooooo counting as one of my 5 a day. I think I had rationalised that as I wasn’t drinking all weekend, I had saved loads of empty calories and had earned myself a bit of a treat. Well, perhaps that would be justification, but there is no excuse for then getting home and letting my other (drunken) half talk me into ORDERING PIZZA!!! I MEAN COME ON, I WASN’T EVEN DRUNK!! It was ridiculous, I was so full, and there I was, gorging myself on pizza. Greasy, stodgy pizza. Man, it was great. Well, it was at first. About three mouthfuls in, I began to feel sick. Like, really sick. But I couldn’t stop eating it, I knew if I stopped eating the pizza, that if I looked at it the next morning I would be so annoyed with myself that I would continue on the downward spiral and throw away the whole week. More to the point, I knew I wouldn’t allow myself to finish it for breakfast, which I would really want to do. So, in my wisdom, I decided that it was best for all concerned if I ate it all, there and then, and quickly before anyone could stop me. The mathematicians among you will have realised that again, I went above and beyond on the “how many evening meals can you eat” front. In case you missed it, potato pie + potato pie + pizza = 3. Except it doesn’t add up to three, as I had already had my tea before I left the house. Four teas. Four freaking teas. Can anyone explain to me how one person can fit all this food into one (albeit larger than then average) stomach? Actually, don’t bother, as I am quite sure it will involve the words “because you are a fat bastard”…
Sunday, I was as good as gold. Well, it wasn’t a conscious decision; I had just eaten so much food on Saturday night that I felt sick all day Sunday. I ate a bowl of cereal, a jacket potato and tuna, and that was it. All day. God, I hope my diabetic consultant never reads this, he’d go mental.
Monday I was full of good intentions, the sun was shining, it was a new week, a new day and a new me! I go to college on a Monday, so I had to get lunch in their canteen. Now, this is usually a problem as they never have anything that doesn’t have mayonnaise smothered all over it, but today I was in luck. I spotted a portion of dry salad leaves with a slice of tomato and a slice of ham. I thanked my lucky stars that they had something I could calculate the points on and then….walked straight past it, picking up a chicken korma sandwich on poppy seed bread. (?????) See? I told you I’d gone mental. My only defence is that the salad before me was so limp and lifeless, it wasn't even a shade of green. I still think there'd have been more nutritional value in the canteen lady’s hat. And, I did point up my naughty butty when I got home.
I did a good job at teatime though, I made a fish pie which was only 4 points per serving and then did a load of cleaning so I wouldn’t eat anything else out of boredom.
Tuesday and Wednesday I was right back on track. I had two very good lunches (I try and bring them in to work from home now as a) it’s cheaper and b) it means I won’t have to partake in any ridiculous conversations with any canteen ladies). However, I feel I must make mention to my wonderful colleagues, who have been nothing but supportive this week. I couldn’t have done it without them. Here is a letter which, if this type of support continues, I will be tempted to post on the kitchen door.
Dearest Colleagues, a small thank-you to you all...
Thank-you so much for bringing in the cakes you have baked, the crème eggs that you do not want in your house and the sweeties from your jolly holidays. It really is a wonderful test for me to exercise my willpower each and every hour of every day as more and more crap lands in the office. Every time I walk past the kitchen and I don’t stop to collect a slice of cake, a crème egg and a brew, I can give myself a hearty pat on the back and say “Well Done Weighty! You’re fantastic, you managed not to eat anything then!”, and without the perpetual torment of the treats, I would not be able to do this. I would also like to thank-you for the impending water infection I can see (and feel) on the horizon; even now I am trying to desperately to hold in another wee for as long as possible to stop me having to walk past the kitchen (aka “Treat City”). It will give me a much needed break off from work as I take sick leave for my imminent kidney infection, and for that I am eternally grateful. Oh, and can I also thank you for buying bags of biscuits and placing them directly in my office? It makes things very convenient for me when I don’t even have to lift a bum cheek to piss all over my good intentions.
So, thank-you, thank-you and thank-you once again, from the bottom of my bottom. You bunch of b*stards.
Regards,
Weighty Katie
xxx
Phew… Now that I’ve got that off my chest…
As well as my immense willpower at work and some really good lunches, I have also had and some quite exciting teas too! I made a marinade for chicken breast last night, from garlic, Tabasco, tomato puree and diet coke of all things, and I was well dubious at first but it was soooooo good… kinda like barbeque sauce except all the ingredients were 0 points. Quality.
However, I am quite sure that all this good work over the past couple of days is not enough to pull back the sheer gluttony that occurred over the weekend.
My weigh in is tonight. It’s in three hours time. I’m actually feeling sick at the thought of it. When I think I fancy a pizza again, I’m going to remember this feeling in the hope that the angel on my shoulder will yell “don’t do it!” instead of what it did on Saturday when its mouth was clearly full of potato pie, hence why it couldn’t speak up.
I shall report back later… wish me luck!!
Thursday 23rd April
Why is it, when you have a bad week, even though your brain tells you that this week you need to knuckle down and try even harder than the week before, that your hands just keep shovelling naughty, naughty food into your mouth???
I went to my weigh in on Thursday 16th and had put on 2lb. I was gutted. I knew I’d had a heavy weekend, but I had made sure I had stuck to the plan for the most part. I even went on a 1hr speedwalk uphill (yes, you heard me, uphill) and according to my pedometer, burned over 800 calories. I then walked to work for the rest of the week, so I had done more exercise this week than I would normally ever do, and yet I still put on 2lb! The worst part was that I could no longer say I had lost ½ a stone, I had to go back to saying I had lost 5 and ½ pounds. Aboo hoo.
So, I left my meeting feeling a bit dejected, but nonetheless, determined to make this the week that I lost 14lb and the class leader had to refer me to the local A&E unit for losing weight too quickly (it’s one of my weirder fantasies). I stopped off at Tesco on the way home to get myself a treat (weigh in night is treat night, I dunno if anyone else does this but I imagine I’m not alone!). I wandered around for ages and finally settled on some fresh pasta (beef & red wine ravioli, yum), some tomato and mascarpone sauce, and some dough balls (whoops, was doing quite well until that point). When I go home I calculate the points out of interest and discover that the pasta and sauce isn’t that bad, it works out at 8 points for 1 portion. The dough balls are another 10 points though…I shared the dough balls with TOH and was then too full to eat the pasta (At this point I’m thinking that perhaps my stomach just can’t consume the vast amount it used to be able to, but you just watch how I prove myself wrong…)
The next day (Friday) was OK, I ate well throughout the day and had a Weight Watchers meal for tea before going out. We were supposed to be out on the lash but once I was out I discovered I was having such a good time, I didn’t need the usual three glasses of wine to make me feel OK about being out in public without my stick and my bell (“don’t look at me…unclean.. unclean!”). Throughout the course of the evening I had one vodka & diet coke (alright, so it was a double, but it was only one double!) and then I just had a load of diet cokes after that. Very good you might think. And it was, except that we all went back to my best friend’s house, where she had prepared a curry. Dammit. I had a bit of curry and a bit of rice, and then about ½ a naan bread. Again, normally I would have had a pile of curry and rice, 1 or two full naan breads and a lager to go with it, so it was a lot better than I could have eaten, but still, it ain’t no salad. And, the more observant of you will have noticed that I had eaten two evening meals. Doesn’t matter how healthy they were, there were still fricking two of ‘em. What happened? Did I forget I had already eaten? Or, was I offered some sort of grub and was so busy eating it, I forgot to check if I was even hungry? I did do my best to point it up the next day though, I called my friend and she told me the exact ingredients she had used, so I was able to put them all into the recipe planner, and it wasn’t too bad really.
But… dahn dahn daaaahhhn…Saturday was where it all went wrong… we went to a birthday party where they had “Rockyoke”…if you’re not familiar it’s karaoke with a live band, it’s pretty freakin’ awesome. The band that take it out and about (they're called "Dirty Weekend") were really good, and the whole setup was a great twist on your average karaoke night (it certainly made a change from 20 different renditions of"Angels" by Robbie Williams and a climactic drunken female chorus of that classic feminist anthem, "I Will Survive"...)
Also, my friend (whose birthday it was) had asked me and my sister to do a spot before the Rockyoke lads went on (we used to sing in pubs and clubs, we only really do stuff for friends these days but it was really nice to be asked). So, after singing for about ½ an hour, the hot food came out and I temporarily went mental and ate two (that’s right, TWO) trays of potato pie. With big crusts on. And mushy peas, which I‘m soooooo counting as one of my 5 a day. I think I had rationalised that as I wasn’t drinking all weekend, I had saved loads of empty calories and had earned myself a bit of a treat. Well, perhaps that would be justification, but there is no excuse for then getting home and letting my other (drunken) half talk me into ORDERING PIZZA!!! I MEAN COME ON, I WASN’T EVEN DRUNK!! It was ridiculous, I was so full, and there I was, gorging myself on pizza. Greasy, stodgy pizza. Man, it was great. Well, it was at first. About three mouthfuls in, I began to feel sick. Like, really sick. But I couldn’t stop eating it, I knew if I stopped eating the pizza, that if I looked at it the next morning I would be so annoyed with myself that I would continue on the downward spiral and throw away the whole week. More to the point, I knew I wouldn’t allow myself to finish it for breakfast, which I would really want to do. So, in my wisdom, I decided that it was best for all concerned if I ate it all, there and then, and quickly before anyone could stop me. The mathematicians among you will have realised that again, I went above and beyond on the “how many evening meals can you eat” front. In case you missed it, potato pie + potato pie + pizza = 3. Except it doesn’t add up to three, as I had already had my tea before I left the house. Four teas. Four freaking teas. Can anyone explain to me how one person can fit all this food into one (albeit larger than then average) stomach? Actually, don’t bother, as I am quite sure it will involve the words “because you are a fat bastard”…
Sunday, I was as good as gold. Well, it wasn’t a conscious decision; I had just eaten so much food on Saturday night that I felt sick all day Sunday. I ate a bowl of cereal, a jacket potato and tuna, and that was it. All day. God, I hope my diabetic consultant never reads this, he’d go mental.
Monday I was full of good intentions, the sun was shining, it was a new week, a new day and a new me! I go to college on a Monday, so I had to get lunch in their canteen. Now, this is usually a problem as they never have anything that doesn’t have mayonnaise smothered all over it, but today I was in luck. I spotted a portion of dry salad leaves with a slice of tomato and a slice of ham. I thanked my lucky stars that they had something I could calculate the points on and then….walked straight past it, picking up a chicken korma sandwich on poppy seed bread. (?????) See? I told you I’d gone mental. My only defence is that the salad before me was so limp and lifeless, it wasn't even a shade of green. I still think there'd have been more nutritional value in the canteen lady’s hat. And, I did point up my naughty butty when I got home.
I did a good job at teatime though, I made a fish pie which was only 4 points per serving and then did a load of cleaning so I wouldn’t eat anything else out of boredom.
Tuesday and Wednesday I was right back on track. I had two very good lunches (I try and bring them in to work from home now as a) it’s cheaper and b) it means I won’t have to partake in any ridiculous conversations with any canteen ladies). However, I feel I must make mention to my wonderful colleagues, who have been nothing but supportive this week. I couldn’t have done it without them. Here is a letter which, if this type of support continues, I will be tempted to post on the kitchen door.
Dearest Colleagues, a small thank-you to you all...
Thank-you so much for bringing in the cakes you have baked, the crème eggs that you do not want in your house and the sweeties from your jolly holidays. It really is a wonderful test for me to exercise my willpower each and every hour of every day as more and more crap lands in the office. Every time I walk past the kitchen and I don’t stop to collect a slice of cake, a crème egg and a brew, I can give myself a hearty pat on the back and say “Well Done Weighty! You’re fantastic, you managed not to eat anything then!”, and without the perpetual torment of the treats, I would not be able to do this. I would also like to thank-you for the impending water infection I can see (and feel) on the horizon; even now I am trying to desperately to hold in another wee for as long as possible to stop me having to walk past the kitchen (aka “Treat City”). It will give me a much needed break off from work as I take sick leave for my imminent kidney infection, and for that I am eternally grateful. Oh, and can I also thank you for buying bags of biscuits and placing them directly in my office? It makes things very convenient for me when I don’t even have to lift a bum cheek to piss all over my good intentions.
So, thank-you, thank-you and thank-you once again, from the bottom of my bottom. You bunch of b*stards.
Regards,
Weighty Katie
xxx
Phew… Now that I’ve got that off my chest…
As well as my immense willpower at work and some really good lunches, I have also had and some quite exciting teas too! I made a marinade for chicken breast last night, from garlic, Tabasco, tomato puree and diet coke of all things, and I was well dubious at first but it was soooooo good… kinda like barbeque sauce except all the ingredients were 0 points. Quality.
However, I am quite sure that all this good work over the past couple of days is not enough to pull back the sheer gluttony that occurred over the weekend.
My weigh in is tonight. It’s in three hours time. I’m actually feeling sick at the thought of it. When I think I fancy a pizza again, I’m going to remember this feeling in the hope that the angel on my shoulder will yell “don’t do it!” instead of what it did on Saturday when its mouth was clearly full of potato pie, hence why it couldn’t speak up.
I shall report back later… wish me luck!!
Tuesday 14 April 2009
Back on the wagon…
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Well, what a weekend that was! We stayed with some friends for the Bank Holiday weekend and all good intentions went out of the window. It’s always hard when someone else has influence over your meals for a period of time (i.e. when you’re staying at someone’s house). Our friends were actually pretty fantastic about all my ridiculous dietary requirements, and I could have made some MUCH worse choices, but the fact of the matter is I drank a fair bit, and I don’t drink often, so this won’t have helped!! Empty calories… what were you thinking, Weighty?
Aaanywaaaaayyy.. Let’s sweep it all under the carpet eh? What’s done is done and can’t be undone, so learn from it and just don’t do it again!!
Today I woke up in a contemptible mood, as I didn’t want to go back to work after 4 lovely days off. I find that the best way to deal with this is to sulk as much as possible until the other half gets so fecked off with you that he just stops speaking to you altogether, and then you can blame your bad mood on him and not the fact that you can’t cope with going to work. Very effective!
So – I had to get up early today as my workmate who gives me a lift in is on annual leave and I have to walk into work (counting up those activity points as I type). I didn’t even bother with makeup today as I have no meetings and quite frankly, if you’re going to come and hunt me down in my own office then you take your life in your own hands when it comes to looking at my scary fizzog. Initially I quite enjoyed the walk to work this morning – it takes about ½ an hour and I used to walk there and back before I started getting a lift. But there are a few things that I had forgotten about walking to work, that are not so good. I’ll run you through a few pros and cons.
Positive things about walking to work –
1) It’s a nice walk, encompassing a river, a park and a 15-minute chat with my lovely other half.
2) I feel good about burning fat and earning activity points while I’m doing it.
3) I get to listen to Chris Moyles on Radio 1 on the way in to work on my headphones (in the car we listen to a dance music station, which is a bit much for my comatose state in the morning).
4) Did I mention those activity points?
5) Erm… clutching at straws here… Oh! I get to look at the nice wedding dresses in the shop I pass on the way (oh no wait, I can do that in the car...)
6) That’s definitely it. Bladdy rabbish.
Negative things about walking to work –
1) I have to get up earlier, and I love my sleep…
2) I can’t wear pretty shoes to work as I have to be able to walk in them for at least ½ an hour without them rubbing (I refer you to an earlier blog about my stoopid diabetic feet).
3) As a consequence, my clothes get less girly (you can’t wear a skirt with flat shoes without looking like you work on a psychiatric ward), so I end up wearing my trainers walking in (and you can’t wear a skirt with trainers without looking like you belong on a psychiatric ward…) and a pair of pants. By the time I’ve put this shexshy combo on I feel so unfeminine it’s all I can do to stop myself from chucking on a potato sack on top and legging it out of the house. I usually end up opting for something shroud-like over me pants. Yummy.
4) I live in Greater Manchester (not renowned for its sun drenched beaches), and the walk to work in the wind makes the skin on my face really dry. By the time the weekend comes around my cheeks are bright red and my skin is so dry and battered from the elements that I look like a cross between an old fish wife and, erm… a fish. I then have to buff off all the scales and spend all weekend looking like a tomato until my skin recovers a bit. Then it’s back to walking into work on Monday, and the scaliness returns. I’m not suite sure what clothes go with “Scaly” or Tomato” in order to maximise this look to its full potential. Think I’ll give Gok Wan a call…
5) If it’s not windy, then it’s raining, and this means you end up looking like you’ve swam in to work. And, as mentioned in a previous blog, if your shoes get wet too then you will invariably smell like you’re wearing Calvin Klein’s “Eau de Wet Dog” for the rest of the day.
6) Contending with the wind or the rain is unbelievably the best-case scenario. If it’s raining and windy, then you might as well face the fact that you’re going to arrive at work looking like Arthur Scargill. Your parting will shift to just below your left ear and the rain will ensure your hair will be stuck there for the rest of the day. Even if you have an umbrella, there’s really no point holding it up while it’s flapping about in the air, as it’s permanently inside out and is actually assisting the wind in pushing you backwards. Ah well, at least it makes you feel a bit lighter.
7) With all this wind and rain on your face, there’s absolutely no point in putting any slap on. By the time you’ve got to work your eyeliner is on your cheeks and your hair is stuck to your lipstick. You’re best off going with the “pale faced and slightly knackered” look than “Arthur Scargill Meets Alice Cooper”.
8) *Newsflash*Newsflash*Newsflash*Newsflash*…FAT GIRLS SWEAT!!! When you’re fat, and you do ANY TYPE OF MOVEMENT, you sweat. For example, if I get up to go to the freezer to get a chocolate brownie desert I usually have to use it to cool my head on the walk back to the couch. If I go upstairs for a wee, I’m grateful I’m not a bloke when I get there as it means I get to have a sit down. A walk to work is always going to result in what can only be described as “backsweat”. Even if I set off three hours earlier, I would still end up overheated when I got to work. And there’s nothing more attractive than taking your coat off and turning round to sit at your desk only to reveal to your colleagues a big sweaty portion on the back of your top. Which confirms their long standing suspicions that you’re just a big fat fatty. And you sweat. Euuurrrgghhh. Even worse is when you wear a skirt in an attempt to be feminine, by the time you’ve got to work the friction between your thighs is really building up, so much so that the others in the office sack off using the toaster for breakfast and just stick their bread on your inner thigh instead. And then you have to walk around like John Wayne for the rest of the day, and there’s nothing feminine about looking like you’ve lost your horse.
So, as you can tell, walking is not my favourite way to get to work. Nevertheless, I put on my most unflattering outfit and set off. I got to work in record time (with the sweat patch to prove it) and had breakfast at my desk.
Breakfast-
1 medium bowl Shredded Wheat Bitesize 2.5
1/4 pint semi-skimmed milk 1
Subtotal 3.5
It was a very unproductive day today… everyone was still in Bank Holiday mode in the office, but there was loads of work to catch up on so the morning flew by and before I knew it, a butty shop run was imminent. One colleague was in the need of a “Cholesterol Sandwich” (that’s our nickname for this beast of a sandwich from our local butty shop that would kill you with a bite…it’s basically a full English breakfast on a muffin… wrong wrong diddly wrong). It sounded very tempting, but instead I opted for a ham salad on a brown muffin. When it came it had egg on it, and I got annoyed as I’d have to count it…sneaky egg seems to be my nemesis at the moment, it’s everywhere!
Lunch -
1 bag Mini Hoops, salt & vinegar flavour 1
1 medium slice Ham, premium (honey roasted/smoked ham) 1
1 medium wholemeal muffin 2.5
1 portion Mixed salad leaves 0
1/2 medium egg 0.5
Subtotal 5
On the way home from work I meet TOH at Tesco and we investigate the reduced section. I sometimes think that TOH has an addiction - if he passes a supermarket and doesn’t go and check out the reduced section, he breaks out into cold sweats, shakes uncontrollably and I am informed that if the symptoms continue it’ll end with internal combustion. Luckily he has never actually passed a supermarket without checking out the reduced section, and so my fiancé remains intact. As a consequence, most of our meals are quite diverse in their make-up, and sometimes, as I’m eating pilchard pie with a cranberry sauce soup starter, I wish I could have a normal diet. Still, I tell myself that at least we are saving money.
Tonight’s offering is decidedly more normal. We manage to get some salmon fillets, so I cook them with lime and coriander, some reduced veggies and salad. I chucked in a jacket spud and voila… Dinner for two for £2.47! Bargain. We also happen upon some sweet chilli and kaffir lime sauce- it’s gorgeous and can make even lettuce leaves appealing (think there may be some witchcraft involved here)
Dinner-
130 g fresh salmon 4
1 small jacket potato 2
1 portion Mixed salad leaves 0
1 medium carrot 0
1 medium portion french beans 0
1 medium portion sugar snap peas 0
2 tablespoon Baby Corn Cobs 0
2 serving Thai Sweet Chilli Sauce with Kaffir Lime 0.5
1 portion Laughing Cow Light 0.5
Subtotal 7
After tea I must be exhausted as I sit down on the sofa and fall asleep within about ten minutes. Well, I’m either exhausted or bored to fricking tears as TOH plays “Call of Duty 4”. Honestly, the man-hours my fella has put in saving the world from terrorists and goblins, or scoring goals for England, and has he received even one single honour from the Queen? It’s a travesty.
So- this is more or less the end of the night for me. I wake up momentarily at about ten, and have a bit of a treat…I have some WW hula-hoops and a reduced fat choccy bar, so my choice of snack could have been a lot worse, and I do still have the points available. I tell myself this snack is absolutely necessary, nay vital to survival, as my blood sugar feels low, but the reality is I’m not hungry, nor hypoglycaemic, I’m just a greedy fecker. But right now I don’t have time to deconstruct my psyche, I’m knackered and I’m going to bed. Ta-ta!
Snack-
1 bag Mini Hoops, salt & vinegar flavour 1
1 portion Reduced Fat Biscuit & Raisin Bar 1.5
Subtotal 2.5
Food POINTS values total used 18
Food POINTS values remaining 6
Activity 60 min Walking briskly (15 minute mile); 4.5
Activity POINTS values earned 4.5
Well, what a weekend that was! We stayed with some friends for the Bank Holiday weekend and all good intentions went out of the window. It’s always hard when someone else has influence over your meals for a period of time (i.e. when you’re staying at someone’s house). Our friends were actually pretty fantastic about all my ridiculous dietary requirements, and I could have made some MUCH worse choices, but the fact of the matter is I drank a fair bit, and I don’t drink often, so this won’t have helped!! Empty calories… what were you thinking, Weighty?
Aaanywaaaaayyy.. Let’s sweep it all under the carpet eh? What’s done is done and can’t be undone, so learn from it and just don’t do it again!!
Today I woke up in a contemptible mood, as I didn’t want to go back to work after 4 lovely days off. I find that the best way to deal with this is to sulk as much as possible until the other half gets so fecked off with you that he just stops speaking to you altogether, and then you can blame your bad mood on him and not the fact that you can’t cope with going to work. Very effective!
So – I had to get up early today as my workmate who gives me a lift in is on annual leave and I have to walk into work (counting up those activity points as I type). I didn’t even bother with makeup today as I have no meetings and quite frankly, if you’re going to come and hunt me down in my own office then you take your life in your own hands when it comes to looking at my scary fizzog. Initially I quite enjoyed the walk to work this morning – it takes about ½ an hour and I used to walk there and back before I started getting a lift. But there are a few things that I had forgotten about walking to work, that are not so good. I’ll run you through a few pros and cons.
Positive things about walking to work –
1) It’s a nice walk, encompassing a river, a park and a 15-minute chat with my lovely other half.
2) I feel good about burning fat and earning activity points while I’m doing it.
3) I get to listen to Chris Moyles on Radio 1 on the way in to work on my headphones (in the car we listen to a dance music station, which is a bit much for my comatose state in the morning).
4) Did I mention those activity points?
5) Erm… clutching at straws here… Oh! I get to look at the nice wedding dresses in the shop I pass on the way (oh no wait, I can do that in the car...)
6) That’s definitely it. Bladdy rabbish.
Negative things about walking to work –
1) I have to get up earlier, and I love my sleep…
2) I can’t wear pretty shoes to work as I have to be able to walk in them for at least ½ an hour without them rubbing (I refer you to an earlier blog about my stoopid diabetic feet).
3) As a consequence, my clothes get less girly (you can’t wear a skirt with flat shoes without looking like you work on a psychiatric ward), so I end up wearing my trainers walking in (and you can’t wear a skirt with trainers without looking like you belong on a psychiatric ward…) and a pair of pants. By the time I’ve put this shexshy combo on I feel so unfeminine it’s all I can do to stop myself from chucking on a potato sack on top and legging it out of the house. I usually end up opting for something shroud-like over me pants. Yummy.
4) I live in Greater Manchester (not renowned for its sun drenched beaches), and the walk to work in the wind makes the skin on my face really dry. By the time the weekend comes around my cheeks are bright red and my skin is so dry and battered from the elements that I look like a cross between an old fish wife and, erm… a fish. I then have to buff off all the scales and spend all weekend looking like a tomato until my skin recovers a bit. Then it’s back to walking into work on Monday, and the scaliness returns. I’m not suite sure what clothes go with “Scaly” or Tomato” in order to maximise this look to its full potential. Think I’ll give Gok Wan a call…
5) If it’s not windy, then it’s raining, and this means you end up looking like you’ve swam in to work. And, as mentioned in a previous blog, if your shoes get wet too then you will invariably smell like you’re wearing Calvin Klein’s “Eau de Wet Dog” for the rest of the day.
6) Contending with the wind or the rain is unbelievably the best-case scenario. If it’s raining and windy, then you might as well face the fact that you’re going to arrive at work looking like Arthur Scargill. Your parting will shift to just below your left ear and the rain will ensure your hair will be stuck there for the rest of the day. Even if you have an umbrella, there’s really no point holding it up while it’s flapping about in the air, as it’s permanently inside out and is actually assisting the wind in pushing you backwards. Ah well, at least it makes you feel a bit lighter.
7) With all this wind and rain on your face, there’s absolutely no point in putting any slap on. By the time you’ve got to work your eyeliner is on your cheeks and your hair is stuck to your lipstick. You’re best off going with the “pale faced and slightly knackered” look than “Arthur Scargill Meets Alice Cooper”.
8) *Newsflash*Newsflash*Newsflash*Newsflash*…FAT GIRLS SWEAT!!! When you’re fat, and you do ANY TYPE OF MOVEMENT, you sweat. For example, if I get up to go to the freezer to get a chocolate brownie desert I usually have to use it to cool my head on the walk back to the couch. If I go upstairs for a wee, I’m grateful I’m not a bloke when I get there as it means I get to have a sit down. A walk to work is always going to result in what can only be described as “backsweat”. Even if I set off three hours earlier, I would still end up overheated when I got to work. And there’s nothing more attractive than taking your coat off and turning round to sit at your desk only to reveal to your colleagues a big sweaty portion on the back of your top. Which confirms their long standing suspicions that you’re just a big fat fatty. And you sweat. Euuurrrgghhh. Even worse is when you wear a skirt in an attempt to be feminine, by the time you’ve got to work the friction between your thighs is really building up, so much so that the others in the office sack off using the toaster for breakfast and just stick their bread on your inner thigh instead. And then you have to walk around like John Wayne for the rest of the day, and there’s nothing feminine about looking like you’ve lost your horse.
So, as you can tell, walking is not my favourite way to get to work. Nevertheless, I put on my most unflattering outfit and set off. I got to work in record time (with the sweat patch to prove it) and had breakfast at my desk.
Breakfast-
1 medium bowl Shredded Wheat Bitesize 2.5
1/4 pint semi-skimmed milk 1
Subtotal 3.5
It was a very unproductive day today… everyone was still in Bank Holiday mode in the office, but there was loads of work to catch up on so the morning flew by and before I knew it, a butty shop run was imminent. One colleague was in the need of a “Cholesterol Sandwich” (that’s our nickname for this beast of a sandwich from our local butty shop that would kill you with a bite…it’s basically a full English breakfast on a muffin… wrong wrong diddly wrong). It sounded very tempting, but instead I opted for a ham salad on a brown muffin. When it came it had egg on it, and I got annoyed as I’d have to count it…sneaky egg seems to be my nemesis at the moment, it’s everywhere!
Lunch -
1 bag Mini Hoops, salt & vinegar flavour 1
1 medium slice Ham, premium (honey roasted/smoked ham) 1
1 medium wholemeal muffin 2.5
1 portion Mixed salad leaves 0
1/2 medium egg 0.5
Subtotal 5
On the way home from work I meet TOH at Tesco and we investigate the reduced section. I sometimes think that TOH has an addiction - if he passes a supermarket and doesn’t go and check out the reduced section, he breaks out into cold sweats, shakes uncontrollably and I am informed that if the symptoms continue it’ll end with internal combustion. Luckily he has never actually passed a supermarket without checking out the reduced section, and so my fiancé remains intact. As a consequence, most of our meals are quite diverse in their make-up, and sometimes, as I’m eating pilchard pie with a cranberry sauce soup starter, I wish I could have a normal diet. Still, I tell myself that at least we are saving money.
Tonight’s offering is decidedly more normal. We manage to get some salmon fillets, so I cook them with lime and coriander, some reduced veggies and salad. I chucked in a jacket spud and voila… Dinner for two for £2.47! Bargain. We also happen upon some sweet chilli and kaffir lime sauce- it’s gorgeous and can make even lettuce leaves appealing (think there may be some witchcraft involved here)
Dinner-
130 g fresh salmon 4
1 small jacket potato 2
1 portion Mixed salad leaves 0
1 medium carrot 0
1 medium portion french beans 0
1 medium portion sugar snap peas 0
2 tablespoon Baby Corn Cobs 0
2 serving Thai Sweet Chilli Sauce with Kaffir Lime 0.5
1 portion Laughing Cow Light 0.5
Subtotal 7
After tea I must be exhausted as I sit down on the sofa and fall asleep within about ten minutes. Well, I’m either exhausted or bored to fricking tears as TOH plays “Call of Duty 4”. Honestly, the man-hours my fella has put in saving the world from terrorists and goblins, or scoring goals for England, and has he received even one single honour from the Queen? It’s a travesty.
So- this is more or less the end of the night for me. I wake up momentarily at about ten, and have a bit of a treat…I have some WW hula-hoops and a reduced fat choccy bar, so my choice of snack could have been a lot worse, and I do still have the points available. I tell myself this snack is absolutely necessary, nay vital to survival, as my blood sugar feels low, but the reality is I’m not hungry, nor hypoglycaemic, I’m just a greedy fecker. But right now I don’t have time to deconstruct my psyche, I’m knackered and I’m going to bed. Ta-ta!
Snack-
1 bag Mini Hoops, salt & vinegar flavour 1
1 portion Reduced Fat Biscuit & Raisin Bar 1.5
Subtotal 2.5
Food POINTS values total used 18
Food POINTS values remaining 6
Activity 60 min Walking briskly (15 minute mile); 4.5
Activity POINTS values earned 4.5
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