No bravado... but trying again

Every few months I write a blog post and thus follows a few months of "yay, go me! I'm losing weight" posts.
I may, or may not, post a wee sidebar to this blog detailing the pounds dropping.
There may be before and during photos.
I will inevitably at some stage say "I feel as if I'm really, really going to do it this time."

This time I'm not going in with that bravado.
But I am going in.
I need to lose weight. I am, thankfully at least, still 11lbs lighter than my heaviest non pregnant weight. I am, however, erm, four stone heavier than my lightest adult weight.
Disgusting, isn't it?

Now there are certain mitigating factors

1. I've had two babies - therefore two pregnancies have taken their toll.
2. For the last 10 years, until very recently, I've been taking SSRIs (antidepressants) which can increase your appetite and make losing weight more difficult.
3. I have also, due to vertigo/ migraines etc been taking other appetite increasing medication on and off.
4. I am a gorb who loves food.

Now, if I could get a food replacement patch to stick on my skin, I would. If I could buy a wee inhaler yoke, or an electric chocolate bar which gives the same high as those electric cigarette doodahs then I would. If there was a "gorb yerself" replacement chewing gum or lozenge, I'd give it a go. If there was a Gorbing Cessation Clinic, I'd go along... but there isn't you see.
The fact is I have to eat. It's not like giving up smoking where you can survive without it. Sure the withdrawal is shite and it takes a lot of willpower but you don't need to have have a wee puff three or four times a day just to keep alive.
I have, in recent weeks considered many options. Stomach stapling. Lighter Life. The Cambridge Diet. Dukan. Gastric Banding. Celebrity Slim. WeightWatchers and Slimming World.
I should say that I believe most of these work - whether or not I think all of them are good for you is another issue. WeightWatchers is definitely a winner on all counts with me - but I just can't face it at the moment - the pointing, and the calculators and the working your life so you (meaning me) can spend more of my 'party points' on wine.
So I'm going back to a GI approach, which worked wonders for me in the past.
We shall see. I'm not expecting wonders this time. I do not dare to hope that this time I will do it. But I will try, one day at a time - one hour at a time if necessary. I am definitely looking at things one lb at a time.
So, three days in, I'm trying and there will be no bravado this time - just the odd mention of how I'm finding it.
And if I find it works, I'll be sure to let you know.

Grouchy? Just a little

It's the carb withdrawal, and the chocolate withdrawal.
I swear should I find a stray chocolate button anywhere I will eat it - even if it is covered in fluff and dirt.
But I do feel less bloated already.

I did catch an unflattering glimpse of myself earlier. I was out with the wee woman - who was safely ensconsed in her BabaSling and we were in a lift. As I looked down to check on her I caught the sight of my quadruple chins in the mirror of the lift.
Oh yes, this diet is well timed.

I've even managed to persuade the husband to eat well with me - although I dare not refer to it as a diet in his presence. Men don't diet. They "cut down". He is wandering about like a lost puppy, almost whimpering with sadness when I hand him his diet (sorry, cutting down) sized portions - which are are still twice the size of the portions I'm eating myself!

I think I may have to erect CCTV by the fridge to check he isn't cheating!

You know when you see a picture of yourself...

... and you thought you had looked quite good - and it comes as a shock that you actually looked a little eeny bit like Jabba The Hut?
And you want to cry?
Or eat chocolate?
Or cry while eating chocolate?

Well that happened today - just now. A super-de-dooper fat pic of me at the wee woman's christening which was very unflattering and showed off the fact that, seriously, I don't even have a chin. I'm just mouth and neck. Swear.
And it's a fat neck.

Anyway, I'm dieting again. As of the morning. A low GI approach.
Wish me luck. But if I'm really, really crabby the next few days/ weeks you will at least know why.

The saga of the chicken continues...

So last night I finished work at a more Christian hour and decided it would be the night for marinading the damn chicken. I set to work toasting my coriander seeds and crushing them, all the while wondering I couldn't just use damned coriander powder and save myself the trauma of hot, smelly seeds bouncing all over my kitchen.
Marinade made, and chicken soaking nicely, I put the boy to bed and set about preparing the rest of the meal. Himself was much impressed with the smell of it, but looked dubious about the physical appearance.
He was even more dubious when he saw the diet sized portion of rice I was offering him.
My "made for two" portion was smaller than his usual single effort.
After much toiling and using every utensil in the house I sat down to eat my dinner.

It was horrible.

Back to the drawing board.

A healthy eating rant for today...

Yesterday I went back to my GI roots. I've been reading The Amazing Adventures of Diet Girl and have been inspired to start treating my body nicely.
I've been fairly good the last few weeks but now, well, it's serious.
So last night I was armed with all the necessary ingredients to make the Tesco Diets approved Spicy Chicken and Rice. It was 7pm and I was STARVING. (Although not actually starving - just very hungry. Am always telling Joseph he is not "starving" and starving is much, much worse than not having eaten in five hours...)
So weigh out my ingredients, chop my onion, get my cumin and coriander out and a variety of pots and pans.
It's 7.10 now.
Read instructions (or constructions as my niece calls them) - yadda yadda make sauce, yadda yadda marinade chicken in sauce for ONE HOUR!
There was no way my tummy was waiting one hour, plus cooking time for raw chicken, for dinner.
Scrap that.
It's 7.15.
Decide to cook Chicken stuffed with Mozarella - put away Spicy chicken ingredients and start to sort out new ingredients- quickly realise have no fresh basil. The basil that sat on my windowsill has long since withered and died.
Scrap that.
Now have pile of dishes of ingredients which need packed away, cleaned etc. So do dishes.
Start again.
It's 7.25pm.
Realise (Hurrah!) I have all the necessary ingredients to make chicken rissotto in low fat stylee - including fancy Arborio rice. In our house rice usually comes in either white or brown.
Start cooking - gently heat onions, garlic, thyme and then chicken - brown it nicely.
Then start with the stock.
Pouring a small measure (let's call it a spit) at a time into the pan until it is absorbed in the rice.
Am not convinced it is being absorbed at all - believe it is simply evaporating despite pan being on a low heat.
Whole process should (that's *should*) take 15 minutes.
It's 8.10pm.
It's still not ready.
My spicy chicken would have been marinaded by now.
Meanwhile the child is going wild on You Tube watching Ben 10 videos - one of which I discover is named "Ben 10 porn". Have to, between stirring in the spit of stock, encourage him to watch Cbeebies or play with his toys while woefully neglecting our "quality time".
8.20 - it's ready.
Is Arborio rice supposed to be mildly crunchy? Perhaps it is. Am philistine and only know that white and brown is not crunchy. Actually don't care any more. Have started to eye up raw chicken with a fervently hungry glint.
Serve it onto plate... one of the boy's little eeny Thomas the Tank Engine Plates under the misguided notion that a fuller small plate is more psychologically rewarding than a empty bigger plate.
Plate is still empty - there is a small (about half a plate) lump of crunchy, browny, gloop staring back at me.
Eat it anyway.

It's 8.30.

Who said healthy eating was easy?

It hath arrive-d

And I'm so excited.

I've been holding off til payday to buy "The Amazing Adventures of Diet Girl" after becoming hooked on Shauna Reid's blog towards the end of last year.

My own diet mojo has been slipping a bit. I seem to have stalled and have in fact put ON two pounds in the last two weeks as opposed to wriggling into my smaller size which I was so on the verge of doing.

So I'm hoping Shauna's story will spur me on.

I'll let you know how I get on with the book - but it'll probably take a while. I'm reading both Sharon Owens and Mary Malone's new books at the moment and trying to write my third into something people will actually want to read.

But ooooh, I'm fighting the urge to lock myself away with Diet Girl for a bit now!

Another changing face of me post

Me = one woman mountain at Emma Heatherington's book launch in October

Me = a wee bit skinnier this morning in my bed room. 29.5lbs down!

I'm sooooooo proud of me

Tonight, for the first time in precisely 4 years and nine months... I fitted into my pre-pregnancy jeans!

In out, in out...

During my journey through cyberspace today I read Shauna Reid's Adventures of Diet Girl blog, which I discovered a few months ago through Bloggers with Book Deals.
I've mentioned Shauna before because she lost 12 stone. TWELVE STONE. Which is a lot in anyone's book and, speaking of books, she wrote one about losing her TWELVE STONE and it's out now. (And I'm buying it all to myself on payday!).

Anyway, today on her blog she talks about those smug feckers who think losing weight is simply an issue of eating less and moving about more. Which, we all know, is a pile of shite. I read her post and it made me laugh, but it also made me cry. She talks of defining herself as fat. I do that - all the time. I sit and think of how to describe me and the first thought is fat. It's always been that way, even when I was 10 stone (a loooooong time ago) and more so now that I'm considerably more than 10 stone. It's a horrible place to be when your first thought about yourself is what you weigh - and what others think you weigh. I see myself as a person, yes, but as a woman - an attractive woman - no. I never have and I'm not sure I will.
But reading Shauna's post I'm determined to read her book and see if I can change that. That would be pretty amazing.

I've become quite addicted to

The Amazing Adventures of Diet Girl who has lost HALF HER BODY WEIGHT!
I put that is caps because c'mon, the girl lost 12.5 stone, not a measley 17lbs here and there like moi. (Although by the end of this I hope to have 4-5 stone off... but I digress
Not only has she lost HALF HER BODY WEIGHT she also writes a very funny blog.

I so related to this post today...

Can I just say I am having a dirty cow of a week. I would like to know what
are you supposed to do when you feel ultra-stressed that doesn't involve diving
face-first into a vat of Smarties or buying stuff. I went out at lunch today and
the brain was racing: CHOCOLATE no don't need any more chocolate STUFF no don't
need any more stuff OK THEN WHAT ABOUT A MAGAZINE coz that's not edible.
So I stood in the queue at Marks and Spencer and by the time it was my turn I
realised the magazine was a bit shit. January issues of magazines are always so
skimpy. Anyway, I skulked back to the office and wondered if my head would
explode.
This never really gets any easier, does it? Stress is always going to come along and my reaction is always going to be: how can we instantly soothe this uncomfortable sensation? You can't Take A Bubble Bath or Phone An Understanding Friend when you're in the office at 3 o'clock in the afternoon.

I think that is the reason I had a Chunky Kit Kat this week!

Slow and easy wins the race

I've maintained my weightloss this week- which is motivation speak for "not lost an ounce"- but given the sheer quantity of chocolate that has been shovelled down my neck due to hormonal surges, I'm actually quite happy with this.
I'm used to putting on 3 or 4 lbs this particular week of the month, so yay me!

But the pressure is on. First of all I'm meeting with my PR guru next week and I'm half expecting her to look at me, shake her head and declare that nothing can be done for the likes of me.

Second of all, deadline looms for the measurement date for the bridesmaid dress (or best woman dress as it shall be known). I do not want to look like Annie Apple wobbling up the aisle.

I went to my docs and had a pep talk on Friday. Apparantly I'm fabulous- just have to keep going.
If I can get another stone off by June, I'll be happy. And if I can get two stone off by the book launch in the Autumn, I'll be ecstatic- but boy am I going to miss my best friend, Chocolate.

Ding dong merrily on high

AS IF the arrival of October wasn't depressing enough, here's a thought to make you choke on your turnover this fine Autumn morning- it's only 83 fun-filled days until Christmas.

The shops have already started to fill their shelves with festive treats and I dare say it won't be too long until they are festooned in all their dazzling decorations to tempt the throngs of shoppers through their doors.
The reason I mention the approach of the big day is that this year, despite my disdain for the early arrival of the festive season in our shops, is the year I have promised myself I'm going to be super organised about the whole affair.
I have promised that come December I won't be staring at my meagre pay packet and trying to eek out the money for presents for everyone because I've not bothered my behind to plan things properly.
As a parent on Santa duty, I realise that stretching my December wages between the usual house-hold expenses, presents for everyone in the family and my Santa responsibilities could well be impossible.
The wee man is fast approaching three years of age and has an increasing awareness that Christmas equals toys and that he gets to make up a wish list all of his own. (So far his list consists of a real life Helicopter- you know, like the one that airlifted Richard Hammond to Hospital- and a freaky walking Barbie Horse.)
We are not intending to spoil him- and I'm pretty sure he won't be getting the helicopter or indeed the Barbie horse- but I want to make this a year to remember especially as I'm guessing it will the be the first time he really gets the concept of Santa.
I'm rather embarrassed to admit we have footage from the wee man's first Christmas of this doe-eyed baby staring at the lights of the Christmas tree while we, as sad first time parents, acted out our 'Has Santa been?' routine. Joseph was of course oblivious and the real magic of Christmas wasn't really there.
Regular readers of this column will know that last year, just as Joseph was starting to get the whole Santa thing, we decided to do our familial duty and spent the holidays with the in-laws in England.

Festive magic
It was lovely, but it wasn't the same as waking up in your own bed on Christmas morning and switching on the lights of your very own Christmas tree. So this year, with a toddler who is already getting ridiculously excited at the prospect of all the toys that will be heaped upon him, I'm relishing the thought of spending the big at home and injecting some of the magic into it that all nearly three year olds deserve.
But that is going to take some planning. I'm desperate to make sure I don't become one of those parents who batters the life out of another poor sod as we fight over the last 'must have' of the year in Smiths as the shutters roll down on Christmas Eve.
I'm sourcing the best books, toys and art material for this year already. I was even tempted to buy in a selection box or two at the weekend. The only thing that stopped me was the knowledge that I would no doubt get an attack of the munchies between now and December and the selection boxes would get raided. (Yes, it has happened in the past.)
Of course there is a serious note to all this too. Each year the less organised of us find ourselves relying on credit cards and the Credit Union to make it through the month of December.
The credit hangover inevitably lasts on until January and February which is never pleasant. After all the first couple of months of the year are tough enough, all dark and cold with no Christmas to look forward to, add to that a fat credit card bill and you have a recipe for Seasonal Affective Disorder.
Much as I hate the early arrival of Christmas in the shops it does at least remind me to start budgeting for the big day now and not later. I find I can no longer ignore it and even find myself singing along with the cheesy played out Christmas classics of yesteryear. Christmas shopping this early can actually be quite a calming experience. You can saunter around at your leisure breathing in the Cinnamon scent of candles and cooing over the delicate decorations for sale.
I don't get those people who purposely leave it all to the last minute and fight for the last tatty Poinsettia on a market stall or a lavender soap set with those evil bath cubes which never dissolve so that you end up with a bruised rear upon climbing into the bath.
Likewise, I can't be doing with those souls who are so financially astute they do all their Christmas shopping in the January sales and have it all wrapped from Valentine's Day. These are the folks who delight in spending the Autumn months boasting about their achievements and buying fancy shoes while your hard earned cash is being doled out on toy prams, sock sets and bottles of over-priced perfume.
Yes, I think it is time to give in to the inevitable and get shopping. Just keep me away from the selection boxes.