Two out of three ain't bad

The other two posts today have been very positive - this one, not so much.
I put on half a pound last night. In the grand scheme of things it's not much (a medium sized poo some would suggest) but it marked the first week I didn't lose weight on my journey this time.
I knew it was going to happen. I had been a very bold girl indeed but it give still annoy me in a strange way,

The something happened which put it all into perspective. I went home, feeling sorry for myself and switched on my computer to write. Initially I was going to write some more of my new work in progress but I figured publication is looming for  'It's Got to Be Perfect' and I had the winning bid from the auction to write in along with a few other changes.
So I opened the file and started writing. Now, the remarkable thing is that the lady who won the auction, Tor Pickles, has just overcome cancer herself. She nominated that Camille's mother Hayley be the cameo star of the book and I emailed Hayley to ask if she would mind me adding Camille and her sister Lucia too.
I started writing, a scene with three gorgeous little flowergirls dancing around without a care in the world and I felt overwhelmed with emotion.

It was then I flicked onto Facebook to see a message from Hayley. Camille has gone into septic shock. Doctors are battling to save her life.

I cried - huge, body shaking sobs of tears for two hours. Every time I composed myself I thought of the hell Hayley and her husband were in and of the battle this gorgeous three year old girl was currently waging.
I googled septic shock - this prompted a fresh flurry of tears as the seriousness of the situation kicked in.

I struggled to sleep last night, waking periodically to creep down the stairs and check Facebook for further updates. I felt, and still feel, completely helpless. There is nothing I can do, but hope and pray.

Earlier this morning Hayley posted that Camille's stats are now good and she is now in ICU. She is still battling for her life.

Half a pound of weight on? Doesn't matter a ha'penny damn now, does it?

I'll still keep going - not least because I've vowed a £ for a lb to Camille's Appeal and because I want to be healthy but my reaction to a bad result on the scales is certainly in perspective. I'm sure Hayley would wish that was all she had to upset her last night.

So if you read this blog today, offer a prayer up for Camille but also remember that some times the things we think matter really don't.

A Weight Watchers Wobble

It has been a BAD week.
Yes, I lost a lb on the scales this week but I can feel it - and more - back on me now just three days later.
I seemed to have careered down a very dodgy path and the binge monster is winning.
I've had half a Dominos Pizza - a big one, with chicken and mushroom and sweetcorn and that wee garlic dippy thing on the side.
And a Mars Bar.
And a sausage sandwich.
And buns.

This is no one bad day - this is a trainwreck of three days and mentally I have to say I'm struggling to get into the right frame of mind to get back on track.
I think I need to do several things. I need to remember why I'm doing this - how I felt the day Joseph asked me if I was sure I wasn't pregnant as I was so very, very fat. How I want to fit back into my wedding dress. How I want to feel attractive for the first time in my life. How I want to be fitter and healthier and not have to mentally check each room I enter to see if I'm the fattest person there...

And I think I need to find a new approach to what I eat. Maybe 10 weeks of eating the same old, same old has made the diet tired for me. Toast with Low Low in the morning, Special K bars, Thai Curry and Pasta and chicken for lunch, Potatoes and chicken or salad and chicken. Chicken features a lot as I'm a fussy meat eater and don't do fish. I have eaten my body weight in Muller Light yoghurts and if I see another packet of Velvet Crunch crisps I may actually barf.

So ideas please? For a person with exceptionally limited cooking skills?

And ideas for keeping positive when all you want to do is fall headfirst into a bucket of KFC?

Getting there

You see I'm not so much of a diet bore any more but believe me the diet is still happening. Easter was, it has to be said, a bit of a train wreck. I thought that I would be able to resist the lure of the chocolate eggs but I couldn't. I inhaled two... or maybe three. I kind of lost count because the truth was after the first few bites I wasn't even really tasting it any more.

I was bingeing... and it was not pleasant. My whole mood changed. I felt out of control, lethargic and not at all happy but as much as I tried to get back on track over the last week it really didn't happen too much - because the comfort eating monster came back to haunt me. The kids were sick. It was my *whispers* time of the month */whispers* and I was writing a very emotional scene or two in the new about eating disorders (ironic really).

But I must have done something good. I got my first stone on Monday. For the unitiated some WW leaders have a habit of giving their clients a stone - yes, an actual pebble - to mark that weight loss. By the time I'm done, I imagine (or hope) to have 5 of those bad boys staring at me. (Yes, 5. Yes, I am THAT fat...yes, I know...)

But I did it, in eight weeks and in addition I have lost an extra 2.5lbs making my total loss so far 16.5lbs which isn't bad really but I'll try not to be smug lest it finds its way back to my arse by next week.

The Monday Moan

Well it is two weeks in. Weigh in is tonight. I think it will be characteristic of my Mondays that they shall forever more feel like the day of doom from now on. That is not to say I’ve been bad. I have stayed rigidly to my points, apart from on Saturday when I over did it on the Nobby’s Nuts at a family do. I had eaten frig all all day though to compensate for my inevitable munchies on that occasion which was great as my munching was relatively guilt free but not so great as drinking the guts of a bottle of wine on an empty stomach leads to me being vay drunk, vay quickly.

I am, however, now experiencing some bloating - you know fluid retention - which combined with a killer dose of PMT means I would rather eat my own head (I wonder how many points are in a human head?) than stand on the scales tonight.
I may not have lost. I may even have gained. And I know that if I have gained it is down to my elephant ankles and not proper ‘fat’ but weight is weight is weight. And I have a lot of it.
My green folder has become a lifeline. My tracker is my constant companion. I have started to eye delicious looking food suspiciously and thinking “There is no shagging way I’m wasting points on you” but I also know I’m starting week three aka The Wall and with the pmt munchies weighing heavy on my mind I know I will have battle to ensure they don’t weigh heavy on my thighs.

Now what I don't want this blog to become is a me whinging all the time about the size of my arse (too late?) so please give me positive affirmations and lovely stories about losing weight although, and I don't mean to sound mean, if you have slimmed from a size 12 to a size 10 because you were just "huge" at a size 12 then please don't leave me a message. I may have to kill you - or eat you. I'm pretty sure your entire body would have less points in it than my (fat) human head.