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.
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!!