Thursday, 23 April 2009
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…
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.
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
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.
1 medium bowl Shredded Wheat Bitesize 2.5
1/4 pint semi-skimmed milk 1
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!
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
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)
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
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!
1 bag Mini Hoops, salt & vinegar flavour 1
1 portion Reduced Fat Biscuit & Raisin Bar 1.5
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
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
I woke up bright and early today, aware that my colleague might try and spring a dawn raid on me again, like yesterday, and I reeeeeeally don’t want to spend the day looking like Danny La Rue again. So - I get up, have a bath and start to draw a slightly less alarming face on. Pleased with my efforts, I get dressed, opting for a skirt in an attempt to feel girly, a red top with a cleavage encouraging neckline (it’s only cleavage enhancing if you have one in the first place) and some really nice new heels I’ve bought. (NB - I haven’t broken them in yet, I usually do this by putting a big pair of fluffy bed socks on with a pair of new shoes, and doing some cleaning. My niece Abby caught me once doing this and said “Oh, Auntie Katie, you look like a Fimble on the pull”, so I only do it late at night now). So, even thought I haven’t done my Fimble-washing-up routine yet, I think bugger it, I’m gonna wear ‘em anyway as they’re fabulous and so am I today! I put a big chunky belt around my torso in the attempt to create a waist out of the 10-inches-that-I-can-pinch, and I actually feel quite…dare I say it… attractive. Well, you know, for me at least.
By the time I’ve got downstairs my new shoes are already rubbing, and my intolerant diabetic feet mean that I can’t risk breaking them in, for fear that my feet might fall off before the end of the day (I’m not being dramatic, honest). So I have to fall back on my only other pair of black heels, some suede t-bar ones from Asda. They’re very nice and once they too were fabulous, but the last time I wore them I got caught in a huge downpour and the suede got wet. Unfortunately they are still a bit, erm…niffy as a result. Also the giant belt is making me really warm, but god dammit I look freaking cool and I am going to wear it!!
I go down to have my breakfast to find that Paul has drank all the semi skimmed AND the skimmed milk (he doesn’t even like my “white water” so I don’t quite know why he did that), and I can’t have any breakfast. So I have to take my cereal to work in a bag again and hope I can rob some milk. Turns out when I get there, that the communal team milk (which we all put money in for) has arrived so I don’t have to feel like a criminal today. YAY! I eat a very small bowl of shredded wheat bitesize, and watch as my colleague eats two slices of white toast with loads of butter dripping off them and six (count them – SIX!!) custard creams. She said it’s a balanced meal, as she ate three with her left hand and three with her right. Absolute genius. Can’t help but notice as I walk across the office that my shoes are starting to poff a bit as they dry out. It’s a bit like old dogs arses. Mmmmmmmmm…. Also, the bit around my middle where the big belt sits is just getting warmer and warmer. If it carries on like this I’ll have to take the fecker off…
It’s getting more and more difficult to avoid the Easter treat-sters… Today in the post, two boxes of Thornton’s classic collection arrived, one for me, one for a colleague. Now normally, I would be dead chuffed that the reps had remembered me at Easter but today I’M JUST MAD!!! I put my box of chocs on the other side of the office and tell everyone not to let me have any; it’s for my health you know etc etc…
I manage to last until lunchtime but I do go and have a good sniff of the box (this doesn’t cost me any points and makes me feel a bit sick, so win-win!)
Lunch – (and the most bizarre conversational exchange ever)
I decide for lunch that as I enjoyed it so much yesterday I will have the ham salad combo from the hospital restaurant again, but as by this time yesterday I had eaten a rich toffee bar and a bag of crisps, I have also earned a small jacket potato for lunch, as this would be the same, points wise. SO, I get to the restaurant, fill a pot from the salad bar with salad leaves, tomato and cucumber, treat myself with ½ an egg (when did the shift occur in my life, where ½ a boiled egg is now considered a treat?) and I go to the jacket potato bar to have the most confusing conversation with the “Restaurant Technician” (aka Canteen Lady) ever. All I asked for was a small jacket potato and two slices of ham, and everything went rapidly downhill from there really…
The conversation goes like this –
Me – “Can I have the smallest jacket potato you’ve got please, to take away, with a couple of slices of ham?”
Her – “Yes love, do you want it on brown or white?”
Me – “Brown or white what? Bread? Erm, no, just on it’s own please”
Her – “What?” (You really needed to have seen her face to appreciate the shock value, you’d have thought I’d asked her to fashion the ham into a small sculpture of Cliff Richard)
Me – “Just the ham on it’s own please, no bread, just put it next to the jacket potato in the takeaway carton”
Her – “Oh. Are you sure?”
Me – “Erm, yes” (this woman is voluntarily sporting blue hair, and she’s questioning my judgement?)
Her – “Do you want butter on it?”
Me – “No thank-you”
Her – “What filling are you having?”
Me – “What?” (Am I at the dentist now?)
Her – (getting impatient now) “What filling, on your jacket potato love, what filling are you having?”
Me – “Oh, nothing, just the ham please”
Her – “On a jacket potato?”
Me – “No, just next to it! Or on it., I’m not really bothered…”
Her – “Oh, right. That’s not very good, is it?”
Me – (Slightly offended but just wanting her to give me the jacket potato so I can make her wear it as a hat) “Well, you know, just trying to be healthy and all that”
Her – “No, I mean, it doesn’t look very appetising, but if you’re trying to be healthy love, you should have had turkey, it’s got less salt in it and there’s no fat to cut off” (Seriously, this woman’s got a blue rinse and an arse the size of Belgium, and she’s giving me diet advice? But, she’s only trying to help and to be fair, she’s right. I didn’t think of actually having turkey, I think I might ask her to change it…)
Me – “you know what, you’re right actually, can you please swap my ham for turkey?”
Her – “Well no love, we ‘aven’t got any turkey” (SERIOUSLY?!!?)
Me - (Breathing deeply now a la Michael Douglas in Falling Down at the McDonalds counter, minus the shotgun) “Ok then…phew…. Right, just the ham please, with a small jacket potato to take away, no butter, no filling, and no bread.”
Her – “D’you want garnish?”
Me – “Oh for fu… Yeah, yeah, go on then, give us the salad garnish, I mean why not, it’s free innit?” (and I’ll probably need the extra calories as I have been here now for about three days)
Her – (after about 20 minutes of piddling about with a jacket potato, she comes back and shows it to me in the tray with a salad garnish, and three slices of ham)
“I’ve tried to make it look nice for you, as dinners go, it looks a bit crap”
Me – “Oh, erm…thank-you?”
I then walk away with a bewildered look on my face, and the next woman (who, I might add, has been laughing at the whole scenario as it unfurled before her) orders a turkey salad and THE BLOODY CANTEEN LADY JUST GIVES IT TO HER!!! Where did the frickin’ turkey come from?? I didn’t even want any, but now the other woman has some, all I have is my high in fat, salty ham in front of me AND ALL I WANT IS HER TURKEY!!! And why is she not questioning every element of her order? Oh my god, I think I need to have a lie down in a darkened room… the sheer stress of the situation has made me really warm, and the bit where my big belt is sitting is now really sweaty, so even if I wanted to take it off, I can’t as they’ll be a big wet patch around my middle. Also, the “old dog’s arse” smell is getting worse and people are starting to stare. I think they think I have farted. Perhaps this is why I wasn’t allowed any turkey. My “attractive” feeling is fading fast…
When I get back to the office most of the chocolates are still there, and I have to count my two slices of ham as three points instead of two as they are so large you could use them to cover tables.
Apart from the rising smell of my shoes in the heat, and the slideyness of my big belt in the sweaty patch, the rest of the day is quite uneventful. I am nearly talked into having a Thornton’s choccy about 5 times (my colleagues are all bastards) but I refrain and have a banana instead (ooh, have-a-banaaaaana). So when I get home I treat myself to a rich toffee bar (yum) while I contemplate what to have for tea. I have a quick sit down on the sofa, and TOH dives on me – he wraps two plastic bags over my feet, secures them with masking tape and stands back proudly. Apparently the smell of my feet is so bad it warrants an ambush. I would be offended but it’s actually quite effective in keeping out the old dog’s bum smell, so I keep the bags on and go sliding about the kitchen floor while I am cooking tea. Does this count as activity points? Hmmm….
Yesterday’s Adventures in Freezerland resulted in the discovery of a 500g bag of white fish portions, which I am led to believe is very lean and therefore good for you. I work out the points and it’s 1 point for 100g (not bad, not bad) so I decide I’m going to knock out a fish pie. I cook the fish, stick it on the bottom of the dish and add some purple headed broccoli (TOH got it off the whoops counter at Tesco in a rare supportive moment, I think he saw the “purple headed” bit and thought it was too funny an opportunity to miss). I chuck in some mushrooms and onions as they’re free, and a measured portion of white sauce mix. A whole bag of Smartprice mash is only 6 ½ points, so this goes on top. I even piped the mash on the top in liddle rows, and added a widdle mashed potato piped fish in the middle, with a peppercorn eye (Delia must be shitting herself). I bang it through the recipe builder on WW Online and it comes out at 14 points for the whole thing, and 4.5 points per portion, we eat it with some no point veg and I’m feeling so virtuous I have another ½ a piece later on. Well good! TOH is feeling so virtuous that he puts the remaining bit of fish pie on a butty. A pie butty. Seriously. You can take the lad out of Oldham…
Overall, I think I’ve had quite a good day today, and I have 5 points left to eat, but I’m actually full! Oh my god, I always knew this day would come….Must be all that mash… so I end up falling asleep on the couch in a mash coma and wake up to the smell of burning… oh bugger, have I left the oven on? No – turns out one of my foot bags is loose and the smell of burning rags is just me feet. Probably time for a bath then… I’ll save 4 of me points for another day, and will try not to feel too bad about the fact I’ve not done any exercise, although if talking to the mentally challenged was an Olympic sport I would be getting gold today, it’s a shame there are no activity points for it…
Chocka girl, checking out… I bitted it and writted it, so I did!!
Tuesday, 7 April 2009
Date - Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Got up this morning, got ready for work and the lovely lady who gives me a lift decides she’s going to come and pick me up ½ an hour early, but neglects to let me in on this nugget of information. So, when she beeps outside my door I’m wearing one shoe, no bra and nothing but foundation on my face. I throw my shoe on without doing it up, chuck my bra in my handbag and carry as much make up as I can to the car. In my haste I’ve picked up an old concealer, some Vaseline, a bright pink lipstick and three shades of eyeliner. I improvise as we’re driving along, and in the car light it doesn’t look all too bad, but I discover when I get to work in the light of day that Lily Savage could have done a more subtle job. In all the palaver there’s no time for breakfast so I have to rely on my “emergency work breakfast”, which is a really old bag of shredded wheat bite size from my desk drawer and some milk stolen from the fridge. As I’m in so early there’s no-one else around so I don’t get caught thieving milk… the shredded wheat is a little bit soft but at least the milk’s fresh, whoever’s it might be…today could be a good day after all!
1 medium bowl Shredded Wheat Bitesize
1/4 pint semi-skimmed milk
Work is quite uneventful today, but everyone seems to have already stopped work ready for Easter, so trying to get anything done is nigh on impossible. I hate it when it’s like this at work – everyone just wanders about like zombies, eating, and everyone brings biscuits and cakes in and it’s really hard to resist joining in!!! Still – I manage to turn down a bounty in favour of a Weight Watchers Rich Toffee bar (not the same I’m telling you), and I even tell another colleague to shove his Pringles up his rear end while I eat my Ryvita Limbos, and pretend it’s not like chewing smokey bacon flavour cardboard strips.
1 bag Limbos, smokey bacon
1 bar Rich Toffee Bar
In my rush this morning I’ve run out of the house without grabbing lunch (again) so I open my desk drawer and pull out my little can of emergency mushroom soup in there. It looks really sad and I think I’d rather eat the tin, so I put it back. I worl on a hospital site, so I venture up to the hospital canteen at lunchtime to see what “treasures” they have on offer... I have to traverse the various temptations, there’s chicken curry (I tell myself it looks a bit like dog food), shepherds pie (perhaps it’s got real shepherds in it) and apple pie and custard (ok – I’m at a loss for this one so I just walk past it with my eyes shut, collecting weird looks as I go and eventually stepping on the back of a doctor’s shoe. I apologise, and tell myself to get a grip as he reshapes his Italian leather…)
I eventually settle on (and you’d best be impressed by this)… lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and an egg (whit whoo) from the salad bar, and a couple of slices of turkey and ham. I make it a bit more exciting with some balsamic vinegar (oh my god, has it come to this?) and I pick up a banana too. On my way back to the office, I wonder how long it will take for my medal to arrive from the Abstinence Brigade.
I get back to my desk to eat my lunch, and despite my best efforts not to enjoy it, I actually find it really tasty! It’s only slightly ruined by the fact that an email has gone around the office about the rampant milk thief within our midst and I can’t stop blushing as I read it. Apparently the cleaner spotted me this morning and has warned everyone to be on the lookout for someone who looks like Ru Paul. I think I’ve sunk to a new low…
1 medium banana(s)
1 portion Mixed salad leaves
1 medium slice Ham, premium (honey roasted/smoked ham)
1 medium slice roast turkey with skin
1 medium boiled egg
1 medium portion cucumber(s)
2 large tomato(s)
Seriously – is everyone out to get me today or what?? I get home and tell The Other Half that I think he should cook for once as he never does, and rather than being supportive and actually cooking something, he almost manages to convince me that I’ve been so good that I’ve earned a Chinese. After a small word with myself I eventually scowl at him and tell him off for being unsupportive and having no resolve, and say that I’ll cook something myself “for a change”. However, I do have to go digging about in the back of the freezer for something to eat ‘cos I’m unsure what I can make out of the only three things in my fridge. I tried running a recipe search on Weight Watchers online for recipes involving mustard, Quark and Diet Coke, but alas, no matches returned. Still – perhaps I can chart up my digging in the freezer as activity points?
The result of my Adventures in Freezer Land is eclectic, to say the least. We end up with Weight Watchers Sweet & Sour sauce, the leftover rice from last night (when I cooked loads too much) and some bean curd tofu (who the hell bought this and how long has it been here??) which was supposed to taste like duck, but to be honest it was more like eating a small and slightly stringy mattress. At 7.5 points altogether, it was definitely better for me than the Chinese I almost ate, but not nearly as tasty though, let’s be right about it… Whilst I’m preparing it I have some Weight Watchers tortillas and chilli dip (but only to stop me from eating The Other Half's share of tea), and I try a Tesco reduced fat chocolate bar (for research purposes only) that I bought to see how many points it was. It’s only 1 ½ and a lot cheaper than the WW ones, so I think I’ll stock up on these babies…
1 portion Reduced Fat Biscuit & Raisin Bar
1 bag Hot Chilli Tortillas
2 tablespoon Sweet Chilli Sauce
1/2 serving Asda Boil in the Bag Basmati Rice
1/2 jar Sweet & Sour Pasta Sauce
1 serving TKC Crispy Aromatic Mock Duck
2 tablespoon Sweet Chilli Sauce
THEN – After tea The Other Half settles down to watch the (mega boring) footy, and at half time asks me about 4 times if I want crisps and chocolate from the shop. Now I’m sure he’s just trying to p*ss me off. I say no as I secretly vow to accidentally kick him in the testicles whilst “asleep” later, and he does no more than go to the shop and get some duck & hoi sin crisps for himself! He offers me some (WILL YOU GET THE MESSAGE YOU GIT, I’M NOT GONNA EAT THEM!!!) and then when I say no, eats them in front of me. I do have a good sniff of them though as it doesn’t cost me any points. So ner.
Eventually I decide it’s best for all concerned if I just go and get in the bath or something, as staying downstairs is either going to end with me eating the dog’s leg, or TOH wearing the flat screen TV as an attractive neck-ruff. I go upstairs and have a soak in the bath with all my lovely Molton Brown stuff. I even light the Molton Brown candle that I got as a birthday present (I've been saving it for a special ocasion, but I figure the Queen probably won't visit now, after 8pm, so I'll take a chance..) I stay in the bath for about 1 ½ hours, my feet are wrinklier than a raisin’s elbow but despite all the distraction techniques I’m still fighting the desire to eat my chocolate body scrub. There’s nothing else for it, I have to entertain myself a bit further with some unnecessarily thorough cleansing, toning & moisturising. I draw the line at applying fake tan (have to leave something for Wednesday night!) and eventually go to bed. God, by the end of this I’ll have buffed all my skin off…
Food POINTS values total used
Food POINTS values remaining
No entries for activity. Can’t be fecked.
Activity POINTS values earned
Check off these important items daily:
Until tomorrow, adios and try not to eat your own eyelids… remember, if you bite it, write it!!!