Phewf. I am no longer grey. On Friday, much in the style of Amy Winehouse, I went back to black. Not quite in the style, obviously, but when I invest in some industrial strength hairspray I might consider it. Anyway. Apparently my hair is now lovely, sleek and shiny - just like a retriever. Thanks, Auntie Heath.
Also on Friday night, I made the somewhat foolish decision to watch the live action Thunderbirds film. Insomnia will make you do some quite peculiar things. I did watch it once, back in the day, on a dodgy copy that my brother got - but I talked to my nephew the whole way through it so I don't really remember it. I should have taken note of the alarm bells that rang when there was no mention of the film being based on the work of Gerry Anderson in the opening titles. It should have been left as a hazy, foggy memory.
I had to pause and rewind several times to try and figure out who was who. It was about as far removed from Thunderbirds as it was possible to get. Brains had a 12 year old son - the writers decided to replace Grandma with a mother for Tin-Tin (I think that's who she was, anyway!) - Jeff Tracy went on rescues - Gordon Tracy went into space... What the actual chuff??!?!! Someone needs to make a proper Thunderbirds film. In its defence, Sophia Myles and Ron Cook were spot on as Lady Penelope and Parker. And the brat who played Alan was so annoying I spent most of the film hoping something terrible would happen to him. So. I mean - it could've been worse. Sort of. No. Wait. Vanessa Hudgens was in it. It definitely couldn't have been worse.
Rather than curing my insomnia, it just made me really annoyed and I spent the rest of the night having imaginary arguments with the idiots who made it. So, the lesson is - never watch anything remotely controvesial when you're trying to induce a sleepy feeling.
I still think that weekends are probably the least convenient time to attempt to stick to a diet with any degree of success. This is nothing to do with overeating at the weekend, but more the practicalities of taking time out to eat at all. I inadvertently skipped lunch altogether on Saturday, and even then only had a couple of pieces of fruit for breakfast. I had a similar problem yesterday as well. I don't know why eating is a more complicated event at weekends than it is during the week. Surely mealtimes are the signposts by which one structures their day, rather than things to fit in around other stuff that might be going on around them.
I did do a lot of walking on Saturday, though. I went on an adventure to Liverpool with Helena and her dad, The Great Donaldo. He ditched us at a coffee bar on Albert Dock under the pretence that he was doing us a favour but really we think that he didn't want us to cramp his style while he wandered around the Maritime Museum (probably busting a few hornpipe moves every now and then for maximum effect). We went to the new Liverpool Museum. It's really good. If you get chance to go - do it. It's really interactive and full of fascinating stuff. We must've been there a good two hours and didn't really see everything. Our best bit was the poetry corner where you used all these different word magnets to make up sentences and/or poems. Helena's best sentence was "Can my armpits think?" We made up a couple of rude ones about gerbils and hamsters too, but that's another story. All in all, a fabulous time was had, by me, definitely, but hopefully by all!! Finally got myself a new calendar as well, it's been a while since I had a Beatles calendar and it's nice to wake up to the Fab Four on the back of your door. It's definitely an improvement to waking up to the sight of Adam West and Burt Ward looking down at you...!!
So. It's Monday again and it's back to the grindstone. I have no plans and no ideas as to what will happen during the week. I just hope that by the time Thursday comes I will have lost the pound and a half that I put on last week. Hopefully more but at the very least I want to have lost that!! There are only three more weigh-ins until I go to see Olly Murs with Jo, and I at least want to be a little bit smaller than I was last time I went to the MEN in December.
Well. That was my weekend. Hope yours was equally fab, even if it wasn't F.A.B.!! Join me again later this week when I'll let you know if my Skip-It has arrived and if I've still got the knack for it!!
Monday 30 January 2012
Friday 27 January 2012
The Blip
So. As promised in the little blurb at the top of this blog, I will be detailing my ups, downs and plateaus during this weight loss adventure.
This week was a down. I put on 1 1/2 lbs.
The dancing llamas have packed up their leg-warmers and have little droopy ears under their sombreros. The maracas are gathering dust. I am less buoyed than usual (which is funny because I put weight on and therefore must be very buoyant indeed at the moment! Don't throw me in any water to find out though - I can't swim and I have the feeling that, like the Wicked Witch of the West, I might melt if I come into contact with water. "Oh, what a world, what a world!").
*sigh* I didn't even overeat. I didn't have too many Syns. I thought I'd been dead good.
I've been told to start a food diary this week. I have. But unfortunately I had to buy lunch today and the only thing I could find was a chicken sandwich from Boots that, when I checked it out is actually worth 13 1/2 Syns. Chuff that for a game of soldiers!! I'd rather have three Bacardis!!! So I've got a little packet of fruit and some diet lemonade. Chuff.
God I'm hungry. Just wish there was better free snacky stuff than fruit. If I had any actual cash on me I'd've gone and bought some hot chicken from the shop across the road. Oh well. I suppose one hungry day won't kill me. After all, I'm still eating stuff. I'll eat more tomorrow.
Meh. Forget it. I've decided to just eat the filling. I think all the Syns are in the bread and the mayo. There's definitely nothing Synful about chicken breast, rocket and tomatoes (although I'll probably still count some, just in case!)!!
There's also the exercise bit that I'm finding trouble with. I'd go for lovely walks, but I live on the edge of an industrial estate, which frankly isn't the most inspiring place for that type of exercise. I've just ordered my Skip-It and it should be here within the next week or so. A good half-hour of that every day and I'll be like a stick in no time!! Well. Fair enough, I'll need to build up to it. Still. It's better than doing nothing, I guess.
So hopefully this time next week I'll have lost weight again. I've either completely cut out, or cut down massively on things like saturated fat, chocolate, crisps, chips, booze and other yummy stuff. I've even stopped eating the skin off chicken - which, as everyone knows, is the best bit!! And I haven't cheated once. I mean, I really haven't. I've been really self-disciplined. So maybe it was just a bit of a glitch this week. Also, without wanting to be too graphic, I did have to jump up and down quite a lot in the queue due to the complete lack of bathroom facilities. How I managed not to embarrass myself in front of a room full of people is a miracle. So, perhaps that didn't help too much either.
I didn't stay to group - mostly because I was about to burst into floods of tears and nobody needs to see a fat girl crying, so I can't tell you how Dave the Bloke or Beth the Legend, or even Barbara of "Having A Bloody Brilliant Week" fame got on, but when I left Dave was deep in conversation with Andrea the Consultant - so either he did really well or really badly. I'm sure he did well, he was really determined last week.
As if yesterday wasn't traumatic enough, I got a haircut as well. Now, you must understand that I am terrified of hairdressers. Terrified. I mean they're up there with masks and gloves as my biggest phobias. I do everything in my power to avoid haircuts and I do tend to do very well in my avoidance of them. I think averaging out at one every eighteen months is quite good going, considering how expensive they are and how much I get cut off each time. No hairdresser has ever made a profit from me!! I think my eldest sister is partly to blame for that time she decided to give me "a trim" when I was about 12 and cut my hair from just past my bum to just above my shoulderblades. My mother takes the rest of the blame for cutting my eyelid one time when she decided to cut my fringe. She was more hysterical than I was, in fairness. But still. Bad memories. And I hate people messing with my hair, it makes me claustrophobic. So, all in all, hairdressing salons are not the type of place I would ever willingly frequent. On reflection it was quite a good cut, however, I have no idea what on earth she was thinking when she styled it, I genuinely looked as though I'd just fallen out of bed. It was awful. Luckily it had dropped quite a lot by the time I had to go out in public so I didn't feel too bad. Now all I need to do is get it dyed tonight and I might start looking like my old self again. Well. Like my old self who's just eaten a whole person. But still, you get the idea.
So getting a haircut and finding out I'd put on weight all in the space of one day didn't, as you can imagine, put me in the best of moods. Such a shame. I had a brilliant day on Monday, now I'm a miserable old sod again. Ah well. I knew it wouldn't last.
This weekend I am going on an adventure with my lovely pal Helena to Liverpool, best city in the world and home of the best football team in the history of the game. Also home to Liverpool FC. Sorry about that, folks. But to make up for it, we did give the world The Beatles.
Join me on Monday when I will give you the gossip from the weekend and take a look toward the week ahead. Whatever you're up to over the next couple of days, have a lovely time, take care of yourselves and remember - if you're going to get on a pair of scales, make sure you have an empty bladder first...!!
This week was a down. I put on 1 1/2 lbs.
The dancing llamas have packed up their leg-warmers and have little droopy ears under their sombreros. The maracas are gathering dust. I am less buoyed than usual (which is funny because I put weight on and therefore must be very buoyant indeed at the moment! Don't throw me in any water to find out though - I can't swim and I have the feeling that, like the Wicked Witch of the West, I might melt if I come into contact with water. "Oh, what a world, what a world!").
*sigh* I didn't even overeat. I didn't have too many Syns. I thought I'd been dead good.
I've been told to start a food diary this week. I have. But unfortunately I had to buy lunch today and the only thing I could find was a chicken sandwich from Boots that, when I checked it out is actually worth 13 1/2 Syns. Chuff that for a game of soldiers!! I'd rather have three Bacardis!!! So I've got a little packet of fruit and some diet lemonade. Chuff.
God I'm hungry. Just wish there was better free snacky stuff than fruit. If I had any actual cash on me I'd've gone and bought some hot chicken from the shop across the road. Oh well. I suppose one hungry day won't kill me. After all, I'm still eating stuff. I'll eat more tomorrow.
Meh. Forget it. I've decided to just eat the filling. I think all the Syns are in the bread and the mayo. There's definitely nothing Synful about chicken breast, rocket and tomatoes (although I'll probably still count some, just in case!)!!
There's also the exercise bit that I'm finding trouble with. I'd go for lovely walks, but I live on the edge of an industrial estate, which frankly isn't the most inspiring place for that type of exercise. I've just ordered my Skip-It and it should be here within the next week or so. A good half-hour of that every day and I'll be like a stick in no time!! Well. Fair enough, I'll need to build up to it. Still. It's better than doing nothing, I guess.
So hopefully this time next week I'll have lost weight again. I've either completely cut out, or cut down massively on things like saturated fat, chocolate, crisps, chips, booze and other yummy stuff. I've even stopped eating the skin off chicken - which, as everyone knows, is the best bit!! And I haven't cheated once. I mean, I really haven't. I've been really self-disciplined. So maybe it was just a bit of a glitch this week. Also, without wanting to be too graphic, I did have to jump up and down quite a lot in the queue due to the complete lack of bathroom facilities. How I managed not to embarrass myself in front of a room full of people is a miracle. So, perhaps that didn't help too much either.
I didn't stay to group - mostly because I was about to burst into floods of tears and nobody needs to see a fat girl crying, so I can't tell you how Dave the Bloke or Beth the Legend, or even Barbara of "Having A Bloody Brilliant Week" fame got on, but when I left Dave was deep in conversation with Andrea the Consultant - so either he did really well or really badly. I'm sure he did well, he was really determined last week.
As if yesterday wasn't traumatic enough, I got a haircut as well. Now, you must understand that I am terrified of hairdressers. Terrified. I mean they're up there with masks and gloves as my biggest phobias. I do everything in my power to avoid haircuts and I do tend to do very well in my avoidance of them. I think averaging out at one every eighteen months is quite good going, considering how expensive they are and how much I get cut off each time. No hairdresser has ever made a profit from me!! I think my eldest sister is partly to blame for that time she decided to give me "a trim" when I was about 12 and cut my hair from just past my bum to just above my shoulderblades. My mother takes the rest of the blame for cutting my eyelid one time when she decided to cut my fringe. She was more hysterical than I was, in fairness. But still. Bad memories. And I hate people messing with my hair, it makes me claustrophobic. So, all in all, hairdressing salons are not the type of place I would ever willingly frequent. On reflection it was quite a good cut, however, I have no idea what on earth she was thinking when she styled it, I genuinely looked as though I'd just fallen out of bed. It was awful. Luckily it had dropped quite a lot by the time I had to go out in public so I didn't feel too bad. Now all I need to do is get it dyed tonight and I might start looking like my old self again. Well. Like my old self who's just eaten a whole person. But still, you get the idea.
So getting a haircut and finding out I'd put on weight all in the space of one day didn't, as you can imagine, put me in the best of moods. Such a shame. I had a brilliant day on Monday, now I'm a miserable old sod again. Ah well. I knew it wouldn't last.
This weekend I am going on an adventure with my lovely pal Helena to Liverpool, best city in the world and home of the best football team in the history of the game. Also home to Liverpool FC. Sorry about that, folks. But to make up for it, we did give the world The Beatles.
Join me on Monday when I will give you the gossip from the weekend and take a look toward the week ahead. Whatever you're up to over the next couple of days, have a lovely time, take care of yourselves and remember - if you're going to get on a pair of scales, make sure you have an empty bladder first...!!
Monday 23 January 2012
It's a Little Bit Funny
Happy Monday, everyone!!
I know, I know, what's so happy about it? Good question. I'm in a bizarrely unprovoked great mood today and I don't think anything can bring me down. That may have been something to do with the chuff-off coffee I had at Costa this morning. For those of you who are panicking at the idea of a person on a diet going into Costa, it's fine - no rules were broken or bent. Slimming World totally understands the importance of caffeine in the human psyche.
I think the important thing about the weekend, for me, is that I didn't really overeat. Although I probably had about a trillion Syns on Saturday when (purely out of politeness, you understand... *removes tongue from cheek*) I had a spoonful of homemade blackberry ice-cream. Oh Emm Eff Gee, it was literally the most amazing thing I've ever had in my life - it was *just* cream and blackberry juice! Just the memory of it will keep me going for the next couple of months, I'm quite sure! Still, I really reined it all in yesterday and am detemined to continue in the same vein during the week. I will drop my first stone by the end of next week, dammit. I've only got 5 1/2 lbs to go. I lost that in my first week at Slimming World!
My absolute highlight of the weekend was going to visit my pal, Rachael. We got a free meal in the pub, we tried to watch The Green Hornet but ended up watching itsjustsomerandomguy videos on YouTube instead (*sings* "I'm a Marvel, he's a DC, but you're the only one who's ever been insiiiide of meeeeeee........... as a characterrr....!"). Honestly, if you have any love for any superheroey type stuff, check out his YouTube channel. The man is a legend and one of my absolute comedy idols.
Before we went to the pub, we had a great laugh with Rachael's twenty-month-old daughter, Erin. Those of you who know me are well aware of my aversion and fear of children, but Erin is one of the few exceptions. She's a genius, and already has the most contagious laugh ever. She just gets more adorable and hilarious the older she gets. My black, granite heart is no match for her overwhelming fabulousness.
So, anyway, it's been a little while since I updated about the progress of The Phantom Winger. This is mostly because I've had writer's block, and also because I realise that if I go on too much about the story it'll ruin the whole thing for everyone, and none of us want that - least of all me!
I've polished up the Prologue, added a couple of bits to make it a bit more page-turny, completely finished Chapter One and am almost done with Chapter Two. I should be on Chapter Three by the end of the week. I feel as though I'm falling into my other usual trap of not being descriptive enough in my narrative, or indeed just not having enough narrative - there's a *lot* of dialogue so far in Chapter Two. I think I just managed to balance it out in Chapter One and I'm hoping I can bring it all together by the end of Chapter Two. If anyone wants to read what I've got so far, please drop me a line or leave me a comment and I'll send it over. All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
I've had quite a few comments from people who think that this very blog should be published. I'm really not sure how I feel about this. For a start, I put literally no thought or effort into updating this. I won't lie to you. It's just a stream of consciousness thing to keep me on the straight and narrow on the writing and weight loss front. Also - aside from my friends and family, who is going to care about my weight loss adventure?! It'd take a lot of adapting and would by its very nature need to be a lot more contrived than it already is. However, I'm really quite surprised by how popular this blog is - believe it or not, I've had nearly 1,000 hits so far, even from places as random as Romania and Indonesia!! Not only that - look at Bridget Jones and Adrian Mole. They kept quite successful diaries, didn't they?! I guess if I can make a couple of bob from my blog then it might help me to concentrate even more on my spy books, which is the main thing. I'm not sure if Slimming World Magazine might be interested in taking it on in a serial format or something. It's definitely something to bear in mind - but for the moment at least, I just want to focus on losing weight and getting my story written. Again, any thoughts or advice on this particular subject will be greatly appreciated.
I'm feeling really far too happy at the moment to be funny. Everything really seems to be great at the moment. I'm feeling positive about everything and in all fairness I'm even starting to freak myself out. I'm too cheerful for my own good. It'll all end in tears!!!
Join me on Wednesday, when the midweek slump will have occurred and I'll be back to my normal self, and generally more grumpy and acid-tongued (or fingertipped, as the case may be!) than Paul O'Grady at a party.
I know, I know, what's so happy about it? Good question. I'm in a bizarrely unprovoked great mood today and I don't think anything can bring me down. That may have been something to do with the chuff-off coffee I had at Costa this morning. For those of you who are panicking at the idea of a person on a diet going into Costa, it's fine - no rules were broken or bent. Slimming World totally understands the importance of caffeine in the human psyche.
I think the important thing about the weekend, for me, is that I didn't really overeat. Although I probably had about a trillion Syns on Saturday when (purely out of politeness, you understand... *removes tongue from cheek*) I had a spoonful of homemade blackberry ice-cream. Oh Emm Eff Gee, it was literally the most amazing thing I've ever had in my life - it was *just* cream and blackberry juice! Just the memory of it will keep me going for the next couple of months, I'm quite sure! Still, I really reined it all in yesterday and am detemined to continue in the same vein during the week. I will drop my first stone by the end of next week, dammit. I've only got 5 1/2 lbs to go. I lost that in my first week at Slimming World!
My absolute highlight of the weekend was going to visit my pal, Rachael. We got a free meal in the pub, we tried to watch The Green Hornet but ended up watching itsjustsomerandomguy videos on YouTube instead (*sings* "I'm a Marvel, he's a DC, but you're the only one who's ever been insiiiide of meeeeeee........... as a characterrr....!"). Honestly, if you have any love for any superheroey type stuff, check out his YouTube channel. The man is a legend and one of my absolute comedy idols.
Before we went to the pub, we had a great laugh with Rachael's twenty-month-old daughter, Erin. Those of you who know me are well aware of my aversion and fear of children, but Erin is one of the few exceptions. She's a genius, and already has the most contagious laugh ever. She just gets more adorable and hilarious the older she gets. My black, granite heart is no match for her overwhelming fabulousness.
So, anyway, it's been a little while since I updated about the progress of The Phantom Winger. This is mostly because I've had writer's block, and also because I realise that if I go on too much about the story it'll ruin the whole thing for everyone, and none of us want that - least of all me!
I've polished up the Prologue, added a couple of bits to make it a bit more page-turny, completely finished Chapter One and am almost done with Chapter Two. I should be on Chapter Three by the end of the week. I feel as though I'm falling into my other usual trap of not being descriptive enough in my narrative, or indeed just not having enough narrative - there's a *lot* of dialogue so far in Chapter Two. I think I just managed to balance it out in Chapter One and I'm hoping I can bring it all together by the end of Chapter Two. If anyone wants to read what I've got so far, please drop me a line or leave me a comment and I'll send it over. All feedback is welcome and appreciated.
I've had quite a few comments from people who think that this very blog should be published. I'm really not sure how I feel about this. For a start, I put literally no thought or effort into updating this. I won't lie to you. It's just a stream of consciousness thing to keep me on the straight and narrow on the writing and weight loss front. Also - aside from my friends and family, who is going to care about my weight loss adventure?! It'd take a lot of adapting and would by its very nature need to be a lot more contrived than it already is. However, I'm really quite surprised by how popular this blog is - believe it or not, I've had nearly 1,000 hits so far, even from places as random as Romania and Indonesia!! Not only that - look at Bridget Jones and Adrian Mole. They kept quite successful diaries, didn't they?! I guess if I can make a couple of bob from my blog then it might help me to concentrate even more on my spy books, which is the main thing. I'm not sure if Slimming World Magazine might be interested in taking it on in a serial format or something. It's definitely something to bear in mind - but for the moment at least, I just want to focus on losing weight and getting my story written. Again, any thoughts or advice on this particular subject will be greatly appreciated.
I'm feeling really far too happy at the moment to be funny. Everything really seems to be great at the moment. I'm feeling positive about everything and in all fairness I'm even starting to freak myself out. I'm too cheerful for my own good. It'll all end in tears!!!
Join me on Wednesday, when the midweek slump will have occurred and I'll be back to my normal self, and generally more grumpy and acid-tongued (or fingertipped, as the case may be!) than Paul O'Grady at a party.
Friday 20 January 2012
The Incredible Shrinking Woman
That's me!
I lost 3lbs this week! Three! That's taken me past the half stone mark already!
Bring on those dancing llamas!! *does excited little jig*
I know it's not quite as staggering as my weight loss of last week, even though I thought I'd done much better this week than last week, but I'd been feeling pretty bloated and generally a bit fatter this week - as evidenced by my self-pitying ramble on Wednesday. So to be honest I was surprised I'd lost anything, and I only really hoped for 1 1/2 lbs so I could make it up to the half-stone. So going over that was quite a result, really.
I got a little certificate and a sticker to commemmorate my half-stone loss. If anyone's handing out free stickers, I'm totally in. Can't wait to see what colour sticker I get for losing a stone!!
The Token Bloke only lost 1lb. I felt a bit bad for him cos he was a bit down about it. He still seemed to be rather upbeat and have a sort of "Well, not as good as I'd hoped, but I'm going to do a food diary this week and work out where I've gone wrong - I am *having* this, dammit!" type attitude about the whole thing. So, good on him.
There was a girl in the group called Beth, who is a comedy genius. She put on weight this week and is quite proud of it. She shares a common love of all things edible and a preference for watching Masterchef, featuring the fabulously grumpy John Torode in his chef whites (phwoar!) to watching The Biggest Loser. Apparently she makes up fancy gift packs of sweets and chocolates for a living, and has three full-length cupboards in her kitchen filled with chocolates and sweets. Andrea the Consultant asked how she manages to resist temptation to scoff the lot when she goes into the kitchen and Beth just shrugged and said "I don't! Evidently!" Awesome.
Another lady, who left before the group started, I think her name was Barbara, had also put on a couple of lbs during the week. Apparently, Andrea had asked her if she'd had a bad week and she said, "No, I've had a bloody brilliant week!"
That's another good thing about the group. If you do have a bit of a slip-up, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You can have a good laugh about it, not have to analyse it and just knuckle down and get on with it the following week. Don't get depressed, there's always next week to make it up.
I'm still feeling quite buoyed by the whole Fat Club thing. Even my next door neighbour said he could tell I look smaller. God love him. I must say I have noticed that I'm shrinking, just a little bit. It's going well. I have no reason to get discouraged just yet. Even when I felt like I was having a bad week it still worked out all right - and if I can keep up this losing half a stone in a fortnight lark for the next few months, you won't even recognise me by my birthday in June!!
I'm looking forward to the weekend and spending some time with My Rachael (brilliant song by Nathan Persad - probably still unavailable on his label, Mile High Records, though!) tonight, eating some yummy food and watching some glorious superheroey action. Not too sure what the plans are for the rest of the weekend, but whatever happens, and whatever you're up to, have a great time!
Join me on Monday when I'll finally give you an update on the story (the writer's block seems to have shifted a bit!) and give you all the hot gossip from the weekend - if any!!
I lost 3lbs this week! Three! That's taken me past the half stone mark already!
Bring on those dancing llamas!! *does excited little jig*
I know it's not quite as staggering as my weight loss of last week, even though I thought I'd done much better this week than last week, but I'd been feeling pretty bloated and generally a bit fatter this week - as evidenced by my self-pitying ramble on Wednesday. So to be honest I was surprised I'd lost anything, and I only really hoped for 1 1/2 lbs so I could make it up to the half-stone. So going over that was quite a result, really.
I got a little certificate and a sticker to commemmorate my half-stone loss. If anyone's handing out free stickers, I'm totally in. Can't wait to see what colour sticker I get for losing a stone!!
The Token Bloke only lost 1lb. I felt a bit bad for him cos he was a bit down about it. He still seemed to be rather upbeat and have a sort of "Well, not as good as I'd hoped, but I'm going to do a food diary this week and work out where I've gone wrong - I am *having* this, dammit!" type attitude about the whole thing. So, good on him.
There was a girl in the group called Beth, who is a comedy genius. She put on weight this week and is quite proud of it. She shares a common love of all things edible and a preference for watching Masterchef, featuring the fabulously grumpy John Torode in his chef whites (phwoar!) to watching The Biggest Loser. Apparently she makes up fancy gift packs of sweets and chocolates for a living, and has three full-length cupboards in her kitchen filled with chocolates and sweets. Andrea the Consultant asked how she manages to resist temptation to scoff the lot when she goes into the kitchen and Beth just shrugged and said "I don't! Evidently!" Awesome.
Another lady, who left before the group started, I think her name was Barbara, had also put on a couple of lbs during the week. Apparently, Andrea had asked her if she'd had a bad week and she said, "No, I've had a bloody brilliant week!"
That's another good thing about the group. If you do have a bit of a slip-up, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You can have a good laugh about it, not have to analyse it and just knuckle down and get on with it the following week. Don't get depressed, there's always next week to make it up.
I'm still feeling quite buoyed by the whole Fat Club thing. Even my next door neighbour said he could tell I look smaller. God love him. I must say I have noticed that I'm shrinking, just a little bit. It's going well. I have no reason to get discouraged just yet. Even when I felt like I was having a bad week it still worked out all right - and if I can keep up this losing half a stone in a fortnight lark for the next few months, you won't even recognise me by my birthday in June!!
I'm looking forward to the weekend and spending some time with My Rachael (brilliant song by Nathan Persad - probably still unavailable on his label, Mile High Records, though!) tonight, eating some yummy food and watching some glorious superheroey action. Not too sure what the plans are for the rest of the weekend, but whatever happens, and whatever you're up to, have a great time!
Join me on Monday when I'll finally give you an update on the story (the writer's block seems to have shifted a bit!) and give you all the hot gossip from the weekend - if any!!
Wednesday 18 January 2012
Am I Thin Yet?!
No. No, I'm not.
Therein lies the pain in all of this. It's all very well and good having a positive attitude, tensing myself skinny and visualising myself looking like I've just stepped off Carnaby Street in 1965 - but then I look down. Is it August yet? Have I lost enough dress sizes to walk into New Look* without getting stared at?! Can I even begin to entertain a hope of walking into River Island* without the skinny bint behind the counter batting an eyelid?!
No. No, it isn't. And no. I haven't. In all fairness, I know I'm not the most patient of people. Not even with myself. In fact, especially not with myself. I'm a grump-bag and the first to admit it, but I probably get the worst end of it.
It's only been a fortnight!! It's an epic diet, not a flippin' miracle cure! I really need to calm down and not freak out. I'll be settled into it in the next couple of weeks and hopefully not even think about it too much. Patience. It's a virtue. Allegedly. But I do need to work on it otherwise I'll just send myself doolally. Despite what Peter Kay may have said, it is impossible to lose 14 stone in one day!!! Wish it wasn't, though. That'd help!!
I've already got into smaller trousers. Not much smaller, I grant you, and they're still a bit tight. Also, the trousers I'd shrunk out of and into are probably unreliably sized - I categorically do not trust supermarket sizes. I don't know anyone who can buy their relevant sized clothing from a supermarket and fit into it comfortably. Even a pal of mine I used to work with who is tiny used to buy at least one size bigger in Asda than she would buy if she was in a high street shop. So it's not just a weird excuse invented by the larger person to make them feel thinner. When 99% of your clothes are one size and one pair of trousers is another, I think it's safe to say that the trousers are wrong and not you.
I don't feel thinner. This time last week I felt like I'd lost weight. I don't have that this week. Which is horrible, because if anything I've tried even harder this week. I know I'll find out tomorrow one way or another, but what if I've stayed the same, or worse yet, put weight on? If I have done I really won't know why. Am I going to feel this distressed every week in the run up to Thursday?! I flippin' hope not. I've got other things to worry about.
This is not the time to start panicking. The time to start panicking is when I get to the middle of May and I still haven't lost anything. Which won't happen. But what if it does?!
So, then. There's only one thing left to do.
Gimme an E. Gimme an X. Gimme an E. Gimme an R. Gimme a C. Gimme an I. Gimme an S. Gimme an E. What does it spell?
No, really - what does it spell?!?? It's years since I've given it a second's thought!!
That's right, folks. The dreaded E word, which for so long has been regarded as swearing in my world. It's got to be done. Eventually I will join a gym. I will. I know I'm the least athletic person in the world but I actually really like the gym. It's my kind of thing. It's non-contact, there are no teams to be picked for last (after the dustbin at the other end of the playground), you can get your favourite 60s choons on your music-playing device, ignore everyone and people will bog off and leave you to get on with it. Gyms are great for the anti-social would-be recluse. Odd as it sounds, I am a fan of them.
Unfortunately, at the moment I'm a bit skint and I'd quite like to wait until I've already lost a bit of weight before I go - mostly so that it'll be easier to find suitable clothes to exercise in. So, I need to think of something else to do. Luckily, I think I've hit upon a plan.
The Six O'Clock Boogie is still a valid idea and when I finally get round to making myself a decent 60s dance CD and clearing a suitable space in my bedroom I will definitely get on with that. There is also the Skip-It.
For those of you who were children in the early 90s, you might remember these things. There's a ball on one end of a rope and a hoop at the other end. You put the hoop around your ankle and spin the rope round, then skip over the rope when it gets to your free leg. It requires quite a technique and definitely burns up quite a lot of energy. If you get a good enough space you can do it in the living room while watching The Champions (or any other 60s TV show you might have a box set of!). It was my favourite thing when I was eight. I was great at it. My little feet were blurry, I used to go so fast!! I've searched all over t'internet for one and have finally found a site that sells them. Apparently they're still closed over Christmas (who closes for a month at Christmas?!), but they reopen next week. So after pay day I think I shall invest in one.
I've got to do something. Last week proved to me that the Slimming World thing works whether you exercise or not. Legend has it that it just works *better* if you exercise as well. I'll try it out. I want to feel thinner every week and not panic that I'm not doing it right.
Join me again on Friday when hopefully I shall be feeling a little less neurotic and will be able to report back to you on Week 3 at Fat Club. There will either be whoops of jubilation or guttural cries of anguish. But there won't be a trail of empty chocolate wrappers in my wake. Definitely not this time. I'm serious about it, now!!
*There are other high street shops available. And I likely won't shop in either of them after I've lost weight anyway, on principle!
Therein lies the pain in all of this. It's all very well and good having a positive attitude, tensing myself skinny and visualising myself looking like I've just stepped off Carnaby Street in 1965 - but then I look down. Is it August yet? Have I lost enough dress sizes to walk into New Look* without getting stared at?! Can I even begin to entertain a hope of walking into River Island* without the skinny bint behind the counter batting an eyelid?!
No. No, it isn't. And no. I haven't. In all fairness, I know I'm not the most patient of people. Not even with myself. In fact, especially not with myself. I'm a grump-bag and the first to admit it, but I probably get the worst end of it.
It's only been a fortnight!! It's an epic diet, not a flippin' miracle cure! I really need to calm down and not freak out. I'll be settled into it in the next couple of weeks and hopefully not even think about it too much. Patience. It's a virtue. Allegedly. But I do need to work on it otherwise I'll just send myself doolally. Despite what Peter Kay may have said, it is impossible to lose 14 stone in one day!!! Wish it wasn't, though. That'd help!!
I've already got into smaller trousers. Not much smaller, I grant you, and they're still a bit tight. Also, the trousers I'd shrunk out of and into are probably unreliably sized - I categorically do not trust supermarket sizes. I don't know anyone who can buy their relevant sized clothing from a supermarket and fit into it comfortably. Even a pal of mine I used to work with who is tiny used to buy at least one size bigger in Asda than she would buy if she was in a high street shop. So it's not just a weird excuse invented by the larger person to make them feel thinner. When 99% of your clothes are one size and one pair of trousers is another, I think it's safe to say that the trousers are wrong and not you.
I don't feel thinner. This time last week I felt like I'd lost weight. I don't have that this week. Which is horrible, because if anything I've tried even harder this week. I know I'll find out tomorrow one way or another, but what if I've stayed the same, or worse yet, put weight on? If I have done I really won't know why. Am I going to feel this distressed every week in the run up to Thursday?! I flippin' hope not. I've got other things to worry about.
This is not the time to start panicking. The time to start panicking is when I get to the middle of May and I still haven't lost anything. Which won't happen. But what if it does?!
So, then. There's only one thing left to do.
Gimme an E. Gimme an X. Gimme an E. Gimme an R. Gimme a C. Gimme an I. Gimme an S. Gimme an E. What does it spell?
No, really - what does it spell?!?? It's years since I've given it a second's thought!!
That's right, folks. The dreaded E word, which for so long has been regarded as swearing in my world. It's got to be done. Eventually I will join a gym. I will. I know I'm the least athletic person in the world but I actually really like the gym. It's my kind of thing. It's non-contact, there are no teams to be picked for last (after the dustbin at the other end of the playground), you can get your favourite 60s choons on your music-playing device, ignore everyone and people will bog off and leave you to get on with it. Gyms are great for the anti-social would-be recluse. Odd as it sounds, I am a fan of them.
Unfortunately, at the moment I'm a bit skint and I'd quite like to wait until I've already lost a bit of weight before I go - mostly so that it'll be easier to find suitable clothes to exercise in. So, I need to think of something else to do. Luckily, I think I've hit upon a plan.
The Six O'Clock Boogie is still a valid idea and when I finally get round to making myself a decent 60s dance CD and clearing a suitable space in my bedroom I will definitely get on with that. There is also the Skip-It.
For those of you who were children in the early 90s, you might remember these things. There's a ball on one end of a rope and a hoop at the other end. You put the hoop around your ankle and spin the rope round, then skip over the rope when it gets to your free leg. It requires quite a technique and definitely burns up quite a lot of energy. If you get a good enough space you can do it in the living room while watching The Champions (or any other 60s TV show you might have a box set of!). It was my favourite thing when I was eight. I was great at it. My little feet were blurry, I used to go so fast!! I've searched all over t'internet for one and have finally found a site that sells them. Apparently they're still closed over Christmas (who closes for a month at Christmas?!), but they reopen next week. So after pay day I think I shall invest in one.
I've got to do something. Last week proved to me that the Slimming World thing works whether you exercise or not. Legend has it that it just works *better* if you exercise as well. I'll try it out. I want to feel thinner every week and not panic that I'm not doing it right.
Join me again on Friday when hopefully I shall be feeling a little less neurotic and will be able to report back to you on Week 3 at Fat Club. There will either be whoops of jubilation or guttural cries of anguish. But there won't be a trail of empty chocolate wrappers in my wake. Definitely not this time. I'm serious about it, now!!
*There are other high street shops available. And I likely won't shop in either of them after I've lost weight anyway, on principle!
Monday 16 January 2012
"Not now, Zsa Zsa..."
Although SpevLand has seen a few high-tension dramas over the last two days, by and large I had a rather pleasant weekend. I hope you did, too - and may I take this opportunity to wish all of you a very happy Monday!
It all started on Friday, when, I managed to, without breaking the new eating regime in any way, have a Chinese takeaway AND a double Bacardi and Coke Zero for my tea!! I don't even know how that works, but I'm really glad that it does! I bet you'd not get to have takeaway AND booze with no guilt on Weight Watchers - and you *definitely* wouldn't get it on LighterLife!! I made a point of texting this exciting news to my namesake, Auntie Heather, who is my Diet Lama - like the Dalai Lama but prettier and with nicer shoes - she's full of fabulously encouraging words of wisdom to keep me going on this mission. She's also on Slimming World and looks more slender and gorgeous every time I see her!!
Honestly, if this is the way it's going to be from now on - dieting rocks!!
On Saturday I went clothes shopping. Well. Obviously, I didn't buy any clothes at all, I merely escorted my pal Helena while she bought lovely clothes and stuff for her impending Australian Adventures, and I must say I think I managed to help her spend her money very wisely. She will thank me for those canvas-soled platform shoes when she's partying like a celeb in Melbourne!! If you have never met Helena, well - that's your luck out. Not only is she one of my most cherished of pals, she's absolutely stunning. I don't just say this in a 'you have to say your friends are pretty because they're your friends' kind of way. It's true. She looks like a little Bohemian pixie princess, all cheeky smiles, twinkling green eyes and skipping joyfully through life, sprinkling magic and happiness upon all those she meets. And, good grief, that girl knows how to shop!!
Normally, the very thought of clothes shopping would make me break out into a cold sweat and run to the nearest Aldi in order to buy (and then devour) approximately my entire body weight in scrummy European chocolate. If you stuck me in a CD/DVD shop and left me there, I would be totally at home. You could quite feasibly even let me loose in a cosmetic shop with a huge perfume section and I wouldn't really feel too out of place. Going into clothing shops? That is an activity strictly for average sized people. In this modern age of the so-called 'obesity pandemic' I find this a little unfair, but it's obviously a good way to con the larger person into trying to shrink a bit.
Fashion simply does not exist for women who are larger than a size 18 (I'm unaware of the problems for the larger-circumferenced male, but I'm sure there are similar issues). In fact, you're still struggling at a size 18, which is why I'm aiming for a 14. My goal is basically to go into a clothes shop and not buy anything because a) I can't afford to or b) I don't like anything, rather than simply walk past said shop snarling in anger at the fact I will never wear be thin enough to wear pretty clothes. It is, of course, possible to buy clothes for the larger figure, but they're all glorified sacks. I'm not some sort of hippy - I have no desire to wear a kaftan. I'm a self-confessed Ticket - in that my heart will always belong to Modernism but I prefer to dress like a beat girl. The other thing that winds me up about so-called plus size 'fashion' is that all the labels have ridiculously patronising names to them, like 'Inspire' or 'True' or... something. Why is this?! Just put the size in the collar (in very small writing) and leave it at that. As if fat people don't feel segregated enough in society as it is, clothing manufacturers seem to think we need to be outcast even further by only having one tiny segment of the shop (oh, the bitter irony!) at the far left corner to find something as non-ugly as possible; and for that segment to be called something that they think is a bit empowering!! Just call it "Fat Clothes" or "Non-Maternity" or "Rent-a-Tent" and be done with it!!
Anyway, Helena is very nearly as excited as I am at the prospect of me eventually looking like a person rather than a Weeble - so we decided that we would find clothes for her and also look for the type of clothes that I might wear when that longed-for time of 'Thinner' finally arrives. Gosh, there was so much 60s-style clothing out there - it was all very exciting. We both fell in love with one yellow dress that was too tiny for either of us. We got very excited about purple shift dresses and red jeans with white ruffly shirts - and I very nearly almost took a dress home with me. It was a red shift dress with a little pleat at the front, a red bow in the middle and a Peter Pan collar. It may as well have been labelled "Spev".
This time next year, I shall go into a shop, look at a dress like that, and take it home, knowing that it will fit me right away and that I don't have to spend months gazing at it longingly and wishing myself thin.
The thing that really made my day, though, was going into a cosmetic shop and finding Wonder Woman makeup. Yes. That's right. Superhero makeup. For women. That's what I'm talking about. It's like MAC Cosmetics know me. They've just brought out a Miss Piggy range too. Superheroes, Muppets and makeup. Does life get any more sublime?!
Look at me, getting all girly over lippy. Well, it's about time, I guess...!
Join me on Wednesday, when I might update about the book. I mean, I might not, like. Irene's gone back to the Bahamas and I'm left with a lovestruck private investigator, a decapitated body with no fingertips and a member of CID who could murder a pint. It's a very real problem.
It all started on Friday, when, I managed to, without breaking the new eating regime in any way, have a Chinese takeaway AND a double Bacardi and Coke Zero for my tea!! I don't even know how that works, but I'm really glad that it does! I bet you'd not get to have takeaway AND booze with no guilt on Weight Watchers - and you *definitely* wouldn't get it on LighterLife!! I made a point of texting this exciting news to my namesake, Auntie Heather, who is my Diet Lama - like the Dalai Lama but prettier and with nicer shoes - she's full of fabulously encouraging words of wisdom to keep me going on this mission. She's also on Slimming World and looks more slender and gorgeous every time I see her!!
Honestly, if this is the way it's going to be from now on - dieting rocks!!
On Saturday I went clothes shopping. Well. Obviously, I didn't buy any clothes at all, I merely escorted my pal Helena while she bought lovely clothes and stuff for her impending Australian Adventures, and I must say I think I managed to help her spend her money very wisely. She will thank me for those canvas-soled platform shoes when she's partying like a celeb in Melbourne!! If you have never met Helena, well - that's your luck out. Not only is she one of my most cherished of pals, she's absolutely stunning. I don't just say this in a 'you have to say your friends are pretty because they're your friends' kind of way. It's true. She looks like a little Bohemian pixie princess, all cheeky smiles, twinkling green eyes and skipping joyfully through life, sprinkling magic and happiness upon all those she meets. And, good grief, that girl knows how to shop!!
Normally, the very thought of clothes shopping would make me break out into a cold sweat and run to the nearest Aldi in order to buy (and then devour) approximately my entire body weight in scrummy European chocolate. If you stuck me in a CD/DVD shop and left me there, I would be totally at home. You could quite feasibly even let me loose in a cosmetic shop with a huge perfume section and I wouldn't really feel too out of place. Going into clothing shops? That is an activity strictly for average sized people. In this modern age of the so-called 'obesity pandemic' I find this a little unfair, but it's obviously a good way to con the larger person into trying to shrink a bit.
Fashion simply does not exist for women who are larger than a size 18 (I'm unaware of the problems for the larger-circumferenced male, but I'm sure there are similar issues). In fact, you're still struggling at a size 18, which is why I'm aiming for a 14. My goal is basically to go into a clothes shop and not buy anything because a) I can't afford to or b) I don't like anything, rather than simply walk past said shop snarling in anger at the fact I will never wear be thin enough to wear pretty clothes. It is, of course, possible to buy clothes for the larger figure, but they're all glorified sacks. I'm not some sort of hippy - I have no desire to wear a kaftan. I'm a self-confessed Ticket - in that my heart will always belong to Modernism but I prefer to dress like a beat girl. The other thing that winds me up about so-called plus size 'fashion' is that all the labels have ridiculously patronising names to them, like 'Inspire' or 'True' or... something. Why is this?! Just put the size in the collar (in very small writing) and leave it at that. As if fat people don't feel segregated enough in society as it is, clothing manufacturers seem to think we need to be outcast even further by only having one tiny segment of the shop (oh, the bitter irony!) at the far left corner to find something as non-ugly as possible; and for that segment to be called something that they think is a bit empowering!! Just call it "Fat Clothes" or "Non-Maternity" or "Rent-a-Tent" and be done with it!!
Anyway, Helena is very nearly as excited as I am at the prospect of me eventually looking like a person rather than a Weeble - so we decided that we would find clothes for her and also look for the type of clothes that I might wear when that longed-for time of 'Thinner' finally arrives. Gosh, there was so much 60s-style clothing out there - it was all very exciting. We both fell in love with one yellow dress that was too tiny for either of us. We got very excited about purple shift dresses and red jeans with white ruffly shirts - and I very nearly almost took a dress home with me. It was a red shift dress with a little pleat at the front, a red bow in the middle and a Peter Pan collar. It may as well have been labelled "Spev".
This time next year, I shall go into a shop, look at a dress like that, and take it home, knowing that it will fit me right away and that I don't have to spend months gazing at it longingly and wishing myself thin.
The thing that really made my day, though, was going into a cosmetic shop and finding Wonder Woman makeup. Yes. That's right. Superhero makeup. For women. That's what I'm talking about. It's like MAC Cosmetics know me. They've just brought out a Miss Piggy range too. Superheroes, Muppets and makeup. Does life get any more sublime?!
Look at me, getting all girly over lippy. Well, it's about time, I guess...!
Join me on Wednesday, when I might update about the book. I mean, I might not, like. Irene's gone back to the Bahamas and I'm left with a lovestruck private investigator, a decapitated body with no fingertips and a member of CID who could murder a pint. It's a very real problem.
Friday 13 January 2012
You're The Best... Around!!
*strikes The Crane pose* Yep, that's right, I feel like Ralph Macchio in The Karate Kid right about now.
I know, I know. I can't have him. *curses*
Anyway. Enough of me waxing on and waxing off (as it were), I suppose you all want to know how I got on last night at Fat Club.
Well, after a week of ploughing my way constantly through potatoes, pasta, fish, veg and more fruit than you can shake a stick at, I was shocked to discover that I had, in fact, actually lost some weight.
5 1/2 lbs of the stuff!
Bring on the dancing llamas!!! *dons sombrero and shakes maracas*
So did good ol' Dave. He's still the only boy there but he's really motivated, and was waxing lyrical about the Full English breakfasts and bacon medallions he's been throwing down his neck like nobody's business. Neither of us can quite comprehend how we're managing to lose so much weight when we're doing nothing but eat!!
I met a girl called Leanne, she's been coming to the club for about six months. She looks like she's probably about a size 14/16 now but apparently she's lost about four stone. She asked if I was joining because it was January and I just said I was bored of being fat. She joined for the exact same reason. We both had a good laugh about plus size fashions (or lack thereof) and had a good chat (expect a David Mitchell's Soapbox Rant style blog about the perils of trying to dress well when you're fat!). I'm getting more sociable by the week. Apparently this is good for me. Meh. I'm still a grumpy old bag underneath it all!!
It is amazing how much of an inverted snobbery there is around weight loss. There's another girl called Heather who started last week, and she's of the skinny blonde ilk (not that I have any problems with skinny blondes per se, there are many such women who I hold in the highest of regard and love unendingly - but you know the type I mean!) - and she only lost 3lbs. I couldn't help but feel a sense of smug satisfaction at that!! I must admit I felt a little guilty instantly, but then two minutes later, Andrea the Consultant announced that another skinny girl who joined last week had lost 4lbs. Conversation went thus:
Andrea: That's really good that you lost so much, you're only little, really!
Girl: Hah! You've not seen me in a bikini!
I can happily admit that the instant hatred oozed from everyone. Bikini! HAH!!! Leanne said to me "I wouldn't even dream of trying to fit into one!" and I looked down at myself and said "Chuffin' cheesecakes, give me a break!" and we both fell about laughing.
Ah. Slimming World. A place where 'slim' is craved for and reviled all in the same thought process. It's my kinda world!!
Staying for the group is a really good idea. You get to know everyone a lot better and you see that everyone's struggling just the same for the same end. There's a great feeling of solidarity and non-freakishness amongst everyone. And it gives you more impetus to keep going. I think also, because my group has about 60 in it and the earlier group has about 70 in it, there's a bit of competition going between the two. Our group lost more weight than the earlier group *muahahaha!*, but they had the biggest weight loss (a girl lost 10lbs in her first week. She couldn't be Slimmer of the Week though because it was her first week, you can only get it if you've been there for two or more weeks. The woman who won it had only lost 3lbs! I bet that stung!!).
So, basically, what I'm saying to you all is this. If you want to actually lose weight without really thinking about it - join Slimming World. Honestly. Trust me on this. You will eat like you have never eaten before, you'll feel awesome and the weight will fall off you. All it takes is making the right choices where food and drink is concerned and having the willpower to see it through. To everyone who has joined, well done, and to my lovely cousin Angela who joined last Thursday as well - congratulations on your first week, too!! We can DO this!!
Hope you all have a fabulous weekend, whatever you decide to do. I shall update on the story on Monday, if I've anything to report. Chances are, though, I won't - so it might be another blog about the ups, downs, ins, outs and shaking it all abouts of changing my figure from a 0 to an 8!!!!
I know, I know. I can't have him. *curses*
Anyway. Enough of me waxing on and waxing off (as it were), I suppose you all want to know how I got on last night at Fat Club.
Well, after a week of ploughing my way constantly through potatoes, pasta, fish, veg and more fruit than you can shake a stick at, I was shocked to discover that I had, in fact, actually lost some weight.
5 1/2 lbs of the stuff!
Bring on the dancing llamas!!! *dons sombrero and shakes maracas*
So did good ol' Dave. He's still the only boy there but he's really motivated, and was waxing lyrical about the Full English breakfasts and bacon medallions he's been throwing down his neck like nobody's business. Neither of us can quite comprehend how we're managing to lose so much weight when we're doing nothing but eat!!
I met a girl called Leanne, she's been coming to the club for about six months. She looks like she's probably about a size 14/16 now but apparently she's lost about four stone. She asked if I was joining because it was January and I just said I was bored of being fat. She joined for the exact same reason. We both had a good laugh about plus size fashions (or lack thereof) and had a good chat (expect a David Mitchell's Soapbox Rant style blog about the perils of trying to dress well when you're fat!). I'm getting more sociable by the week. Apparently this is good for me. Meh. I'm still a grumpy old bag underneath it all!!
It is amazing how much of an inverted snobbery there is around weight loss. There's another girl called Heather who started last week, and she's of the skinny blonde ilk (not that I have any problems with skinny blondes per se, there are many such women who I hold in the highest of regard and love unendingly - but you know the type I mean!) - and she only lost 3lbs. I couldn't help but feel a sense of smug satisfaction at that!! I must admit I felt a little guilty instantly, but then two minutes later, Andrea the Consultant announced that another skinny girl who joined last week had lost 4lbs. Conversation went thus:
Andrea: That's really good that you lost so much, you're only little, really!
Girl: Hah! You've not seen me in a bikini!
I can happily admit that the instant hatred oozed from everyone. Bikini! HAH!!! Leanne said to me "I wouldn't even dream of trying to fit into one!" and I looked down at myself and said "Chuffin' cheesecakes, give me a break!" and we both fell about laughing.
Ah. Slimming World. A place where 'slim' is craved for and reviled all in the same thought process. It's my kinda world!!
Staying for the group is a really good idea. You get to know everyone a lot better and you see that everyone's struggling just the same for the same end. There's a great feeling of solidarity and non-freakishness amongst everyone. And it gives you more impetus to keep going. I think also, because my group has about 60 in it and the earlier group has about 70 in it, there's a bit of competition going between the two. Our group lost more weight than the earlier group *muahahaha!*, but they had the biggest weight loss (a girl lost 10lbs in her first week. She couldn't be Slimmer of the Week though because it was her first week, you can only get it if you've been there for two or more weeks. The woman who won it had only lost 3lbs! I bet that stung!!).
So, basically, what I'm saying to you all is this. If you want to actually lose weight without really thinking about it - join Slimming World. Honestly. Trust me on this. You will eat like you have never eaten before, you'll feel awesome and the weight will fall off you. All it takes is making the right choices where food and drink is concerned and having the willpower to see it through. To everyone who has joined, well done, and to my lovely cousin Angela who joined last Thursday as well - congratulations on your first week, too!! We can DO this!!
Hope you all have a fabulous weekend, whatever you decide to do. I shall update on the story on Monday, if I've anything to report. Chances are, though, I won't - so it might be another blog about the ups, downs, ins, outs and shaking it all abouts of changing my figure from a 0 to an 8!!!!
Wednesday 11 January 2012
Make 'Em Laugh
So anyway, guess what I found out today? I'm not Synning as much as I thought I was!! Apparently, a 70ml double measure of [insert favourite spirit here] [snigger at use of the word 'insert'] [and again!] is 8 Syns. Whereas I have unwittingly only been having 45ml and thinking *that* was a double!! This is glorious news. I can either have *more* Bacardi and Coke Zero before bed, or I can have more of other things instead!! Fabulous. As soon as I work out Syns properly, I think I'm really going to start having a damn good time on this new way of eating.
Anyway, enough of all that. I'm taking a break from the endless piles of pasta, rice, vegetables, lean meat and fish to get back into the real world. Well, of course, not the real world - my real imaginary world of The Phantom Winger.
Allow me to bore you senseless as I discuss the idea of planning a story - and how I have discovered that you can plan as much as you chuffing well like; but when it comes to actually writing the damn thing, you will invariably write the exact opposite.
I had intended to try and make it an action/drama piece with a flavour of comedy but it turns out that I'm writing more of a comedy piece with a flavour of action/drama. I personally have no qualms with this - although I totally realise that by doing so I have made the job infinitely more difficult. Let me explain.
Although, by and large, the inhabitants of the Earth are always quite ready for a good laugh - if you analyse it, people do seem to be a bit scared of comedy. This is because comedy is actually blasted difficult to write. Everyone thinks it's dead easy to make people laugh, but it really isn't. It isn't just about the right situation, it's about choosing the right combination of the right words in the right situation. You either get it spot on, or you fail. There's no in-between level of mild amusement, or any "that was very nearly funny - okay, we'll give you a chance" attitude. If it isn't funny, then it has failed completely and nobody is interested. That's why comedy writers are usually so self-deprecating, paranoid and prone to huge bouts of depression. Being funny is truly no laughing matter.
Basically - we can't all be geniuseseses like Charlie Chaplin, who maintained that all he needed for a good comedy was "a park, a policeman and a pretty girl." I mean, it helps if you're naturally a funny person, but if you make people laugh without really thinking about it and then suddenly find yourself sat in front of a computer screen with the basic premise of 'Write Something Funny', then it's a completely different kettle of fish altogether.
Which brings me nicely back to the story and a request for a bit of feedback if you don't mind. I was all set to have a great boy/girl partnership of Alex Charnley, the cheeky Northern chappie, and Natasha Petrovna, the deadly teenage Russian spy. It would totally have worked. But then DC Jon Bailey (aka Tiny) came along and basically just wrote himself - and, oh, EVERYONE loves a bromance!! Look at the great bromances through the ages. Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo, Jeff Randall and Marty Hopkirk, Jack Regan and George Carter, Tony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee, Morse and Lewis (the lovely John Thaw has had quite a few bromances in his time, hasn't he?!), Ant and Dec, Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble, Chandler and Joey, Barnaby and Troy, Batman and Robin, Richard Barrett and Craig Stirling - although, there again, they did have Sharron Macready to balance their bromance out... That's a good point. Also, look at John Steed and Emma Peel/Cathy Gale/Tara King. The boy/girl partnership could work, quite feasibly. I suppose it has more to do with the way you write the woman rather than the existing bromance betwen the men.
Natasha could still work her way in. My plans don't necessarily have to change. However, if I do stick to my original plan and bring her in, do you think that will bring in too many main characters? We were introduced to two in the Prologue and then another two main characters and three minor characters in Chapter One. Chapter Two will finish with the introduction of the Russian contingent of characters, which will be expanded on in Chapter three - and Natasha won't appear until Chapter Four. By that time, do you think that all possible relationships will be too firmly established and there just won't be any room for her? It's a very real problem. The story would probably work without her and stand up as a comedy/action book - but the story with her might just be enough to add a darker edge to the story.
Seriously, if you've got any thoughts on this at all, I'd love to hear them, as I'm in something of a quandry about it.
Tomorrow sees my second weigh-in at Slimming World. With all the fruit and veg I'm ploughing through, not to mention the crisps (after this Christmas I am still of the view that if I never eat another crisp again it will be too soon!), chocolate (I don't quite have the same feeling towards chocolate that I do towards crisps, I must admit) and alcohol (I will never view that in the same way as the crisp) I've cut down on, I'm hoping for at least some weight loss this week. I shall make a full report on Friday. If I've put any weight on this week it will be a very sad and depressing blog - but expect dancing llamas in sombreros singing La Cucarace if I've lost any weight at all...!
Anyway, enough of all that. I'm taking a break from the endless piles of pasta, rice, vegetables, lean meat and fish to get back into the real world. Well, of course, not the real world - my real imaginary world of The Phantom Winger.
Allow me to bore you senseless as I discuss the idea of planning a story - and how I have discovered that you can plan as much as you chuffing well like; but when it comes to actually writing the damn thing, you will invariably write the exact opposite.
I had intended to try and make it an action/drama piece with a flavour of comedy but it turns out that I'm writing more of a comedy piece with a flavour of action/drama. I personally have no qualms with this - although I totally realise that by doing so I have made the job infinitely more difficult. Let me explain.
Although, by and large, the inhabitants of the Earth are always quite ready for a good laugh - if you analyse it, people do seem to be a bit scared of comedy. This is because comedy is actually blasted difficult to write. Everyone thinks it's dead easy to make people laugh, but it really isn't. It isn't just about the right situation, it's about choosing the right combination of the right words in the right situation. You either get it spot on, or you fail. There's no in-between level of mild amusement, or any "that was very nearly funny - okay, we'll give you a chance" attitude. If it isn't funny, then it has failed completely and nobody is interested. That's why comedy writers are usually so self-deprecating, paranoid and prone to huge bouts of depression. Being funny is truly no laughing matter.
Basically - we can't all be geniuseseses like Charlie Chaplin, who maintained that all he needed for a good comedy was "a park, a policeman and a pretty girl." I mean, it helps if you're naturally a funny person, but if you make people laugh without really thinking about it and then suddenly find yourself sat in front of a computer screen with the basic premise of 'Write Something Funny', then it's a completely different kettle of fish altogether.
Which brings me nicely back to the story and a request for a bit of feedback if you don't mind. I was all set to have a great boy/girl partnership of Alex Charnley, the cheeky Northern chappie, and Natasha Petrovna, the deadly teenage Russian spy. It would totally have worked. But then DC Jon Bailey (aka Tiny) came along and basically just wrote himself - and, oh, EVERYONE loves a bromance!! Look at the great bromances through the ages. Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo, Jeff Randall and Marty Hopkirk, Jack Regan and George Carter, Tony DiNozzo and Timothy McGee, Morse and Lewis (the lovely John Thaw has had quite a few bromances in his time, hasn't he?!), Ant and Dec, Fred Flintstone and Barney Rubble, Chandler and Joey, Barnaby and Troy, Batman and Robin, Richard Barrett and Craig Stirling - although, there again, they did have Sharron Macready to balance their bromance out... That's a good point. Also, look at John Steed and Emma Peel/Cathy Gale/Tara King. The boy/girl partnership could work, quite feasibly. I suppose it has more to do with the way you write the woman rather than the existing bromance betwen the men.
Natasha could still work her way in. My plans don't necessarily have to change. However, if I do stick to my original plan and bring her in, do you think that will bring in too many main characters? We were introduced to two in the Prologue and then another two main characters and three minor characters in Chapter One. Chapter Two will finish with the introduction of the Russian contingent of characters, which will be expanded on in Chapter three - and Natasha won't appear until Chapter Four. By that time, do you think that all possible relationships will be too firmly established and there just won't be any room for her? It's a very real problem. The story would probably work without her and stand up as a comedy/action book - but the story with her might just be enough to add a darker edge to the story.
Seriously, if you've got any thoughts on this at all, I'd love to hear them, as I'm in something of a quandry about it.
Tomorrow sees my second weigh-in at Slimming World. With all the fruit and veg I'm ploughing through, not to mention the crisps (after this Christmas I am still of the view that if I never eat another crisp again it will be too soon!), chocolate (I don't quite have the same feeling towards chocolate that I do towards crisps, I must admit) and alcohol (I will never view that in the same way as the crisp) I've cut down on, I'm hoping for at least some weight loss this week. I shall make a full report on Friday. If I've put any weight on this week it will be a very sad and depressing blog - but expect dancing llamas in sombreros singing La Cucarace if I've lost any weight at all...!
Monday 9 January 2012
Back to the Grindstone.... Thankfully!!
You know what the worst thing is for a new eating regime? Weekends!
Honestly. During the week you totally know where you're at on the 'keeping on the straight and narrow' front. You throw some semblance of breakfast down your neck, you go to work, you have your lunch, you go back to work, you come home, you have your tea - it's all absolutely fine. You don't even really need to think about it.
Weekends - where's the structure?! There isn't any!! ARGH!! I like knowing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing and when I'm supposed to eat and what I'm supposed to be eating at that particular time so I don't end up overeating. I know this sounds ridiculous. I'm a reasonably intelligent adult and I shouldn't need to be told all of these things or have mealtimes dictated to me. However, the simple fact is, I do.
My poor sister has had the weekend from hell and it has largely been due to me and my hysteria over food. I have been some sort of not-so-lean, extremely mean eating machine over the last 48 hours, somewhat akin to Miss Pacman's identical psychotic twin sister. Admittedly, everything I have eaten (more or less) has been Free Food and so technically according to the rules of Slimming World I haven't been 'overeating' as it were, but every time I get so much as a twinge in the intestinal area I immediately mistake it for a hunger pain and just keep hearing Andrea the Consultant's words reverberating round my head "if you get hungry, you aren't doing it right". So, whether it's a piece of fruit or some salad or whatever, as soon as I've even thought I might be hungry, I've eaten something.
Blasted Andrea the Consultant!! I wish she hadn't said that!! My poor sister is being driven completely round the twist by me. I have been vile this weekend. Not even I've liked me. So, before I tell you about Sunday night, I'd just like to take this opportunity to apologise profusely and wholeheartedly to my long-suffering sister, Jo. Although I will still probably get freaked out a little bit from time to time while I'm on this thing, I promise I will try a lot harder to keep my head and concentrate on things other than food. I've been so busy concentrating on not freaking out that I didn't realise quite how completely I had freaked out. I have been bang out of order, and I'm sorry.
Sunday night was lovely. It was my pals' 20th wedding anniversary and their daughter had organised a surprise party at a nearby Indian restaurant. Audrey and John were sufficiently surprised and everyone had a lovely time. It was really nice to see some people I hadn't seen in ages and to have a really good laugh with everyone. One of my pals I was sat with is also on Slimming World - seems like the world and its auntie has joined up this year. There's a bunch of them that go on a Tuesday morning. I don't know how I'd feel about that. In a way it'd be nice to have someone to go with to stop me from thinking "I won't go this week" but to be honest I really like the anonymity of nobody knowing me and keeping myself to myself.
I'd been really good all day and only eaten Free Food because Indian food is chock full of Syns and although I knew I'd go over the requisite 15 Syns I wanted to put as much damage control into place as possible, so I also chose Free stuff like Diet Coke instead of beer and chose boiled rice instead of pilau rice. Mightn't sound much but it really does add up. I still think I probably had at least double the amount of Syns I would normally have had (I think I can more or less work it out from the book), but it's Monday again, yesterday is over - back to knuckling down and getting on with it. It's a marathon, not a sprint, after all. Although after all this, if I go on Thursday night and I've lost nothing (or worse yet, put it on), I genuinely do not know what I'm going to do with myself. I'd jump off a cliff but I'm scared of heights!
No, don't be daft, of course I won't do anything that drastic. I'm too lazy!!
I have quite a few things to do this week - boring things that have no place in a blog, so I may not post again until Wednesdsay. I'll be talking about the plans for Chapter Two of the book and how the first draft of that is coming along, and I'll also have a look forward to my second weigh-in at Slimming World on Thursday night.
Honestly. During the week you totally know where you're at on the 'keeping on the straight and narrow' front. You throw some semblance of breakfast down your neck, you go to work, you have your lunch, you go back to work, you come home, you have your tea - it's all absolutely fine. You don't even really need to think about it.
Weekends - where's the structure?! There isn't any!! ARGH!! I like knowing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing and when I'm supposed to eat and what I'm supposed to be eating at that particular time so I don't end up overeating. I know this sounds ridiculous. I'm a reasonably intelligent adult and I shouldn't need to be told all of these things or have mealtimes dictated to me. However, the simple fact is, I do.
My poor sister has had the weekend from hell and it has largely been due to me and my hysteria over food. I have been some sort of not-so-lean, extremely mean eating machine over the last 48 hours, somewhat akin to Miss Pacman's identical psychotic twin sister. Admittedly, everything I have eaten (more or less) has been Free Food and so technically according to the rules of Slimming World I haven't been 'overeating' as it were, but every time I get so much as a twinge in the intestinal area I immediately mistake it for a hunger pain and just keep hearing Andrea the Consultant's words reverberating round my head "if you get hungry, you aren't doing it right". So, whether it's a piece of fruit or some salad or whatever, as soon as I've even thought I might be hungry, I've eaten something.
Blasted Andrea the Consultant!! I wish she hadn't said that!! My poor sister is being driven completely round the twist by me. I have been vile this weekend. Not even I've liked me. So, before I tell you about Sunday night, I'd just like to take this opportunity to apologise profusely and wholeheartedly to my long-suffering sister, Jo. Although I will still probably get freaked out a little bit from time to time while I'm on this thing, I promise I will try a lot harder to keep my head and concentrate on things other than food. I've been so busy concentrating on not freaking out that I didn't realise quite how completely I had freaked out. I have been bang out of order, and I'm sorry.
Sunday night was lovely. It was my pals' 20th wedding anniversary and their daughter had organised a surprise party at a nearby Indian restaurant. Audrey and John were sufficiently surprised and everyone had a lovely time. It was really nice to see some people I hadn't seen in ages and to have a really good laugh with everyone. One of my pals I was sat with is also on Slimming World - seems like the world and its auntie has joined up this year. There's a bunch of them that go on a Tuesday morning. I don't know how I'd feel about that. In a way it'd be nice to have someone to go with to stop me from thinking "I won't go this week" but to be honest I really like the anonymity of nobody knowing me and keeping myself to myself.
I'd been really good all day and only eaten Free Food because Indian food is chock full of Syns and although I knew I'd go over the requisite 15 Syns I wanted to put as much damage control into place as possible, so I also chose Free stuff like Diet Coke instead of beer and chose boiled rice instead of pilau rice. Mightn't sound much but it really does add up. I still think I probably had at least double the amount of Syns I would normally have had (I think I can more or less work it out from the book), but it's Monday again, yesterday is over - back to knuckling down and getting on with it. It's a marathon, not a sprint, after all. Although after all this, if I go on Thursday night and I've lost nothing (or worse yet, put it on), I genuinely do not know what I'm going to do with myself. I'd jump off a cliff but I'm scared of heights!
No, don't be daft, of course I won't do anything that drastic. I'm too lazy!!
I have quite a few things to do this week - boring things that have no place in a blog, so I may not post again until Wednesdsay. I'll be talking about the plans for Chapter Two of the book and how the first draft of that is coming along, and I'll also have a look forward to my second weigh-in at Slimming World on Thursday night.
Friday 6 January 2012
The Floodgates Have Opened!
Aha!! I knew if I pestered the Muse long enough, she'd come round!!
I do have a Muse. A lot of people are sceptical about the existence of Muses, but there it is. I have a Muse. Her name is Irene - after Miss Adler, 'The Woman' of Sherlock Holmes fame who had loose morals and the brain of a genius, rather than after Mrs Roberts, the recovering alcoholic of Home and Away fame. "Strewth, dahl, I've been off the grog for years now, cobber!" - etc. Yer flamin' galah.
Anyway. Irene is a very skittish Muse. Sometimes she'll knuckle down and let me write like a thing possessed. Frequently, however, she will throw a strop, pack her bags and jet off to the Bahamas for wild nights of cocktails by the pool and lascivious carryings-on with random nameless waiters. This leaves me right in the lurch and the result has been the complete abandonment of a myriad stories through the ages.
Yes. Yes, I have created a blame character for times when the Writer's Block is upon me. What of it?! Anyway, she's got her business head on now (she's like the Muse version of Worzel Gummidge), so we're good to go.
As I reported on Wednesday, I was having trouble in linking bits of my story together. I have had much success now and have even finished the chapter! Yes! Good old Irene!! More amendments and general tweakings will be made later on tonight, and first drafts will be emailed over the weekend to anyone who wants to read it - requests to the usual address, please, all feedback is most welcome.
Some writers hate their main characters. Ian Fleming couldn't stand James Bond (fair point there, though), Arthur Conan Doyle couldn't stand Sherlock Holmes and reportedly did a little jig of delight when Sherlock and Moriarty plunged to their death during a proper man-fight. I don't think any self-respecting fan of The Goon Show would read about Moriarty falling off a cliff and *not* instantly think "You've got to go 'oooowwww'!!"
I, however, really like my main character. I do. He's a good guy. I've developed a best friend for him, as well. I was going to have him as a loner and a bit of a grump-bag, but he's got a pal now, and he's much more cheerful. The best friend is named Jonathan Bailey, but is nicknamed Tiny, due to the fact that he's six foot six. They have a lovely little bromance going on. They're going on a date at the local pub in Chapter Two, right after Alex meets Tracey.
Incredibly, there has been a bit of interest already about the will-they-won't-they nature of Alex and Tracey's relationship. I am not, have never been, and have no intention of being a romance writer. I can't be doing with all that stuff and nonsense. It irritates me. Why can't people be more like "Look. How about it?" "Yes, that'd be spiffing, thank you." "Right. Okay then!" and then just get on with it, rather than all of this moping about with faces like slapped arses and saying ridiculous things about moonlight in eyes?!?
No, I don't have a romantic fibre in my being. Having said all of that, though, it seems as though people are already rooting for them, and if there's one thing I have no objections to, it's writing to please my audience!! Giving the public what they want, that's what I'm all about!! In your *face*, poets!! So. I'm not promising the romance of the century, but there may be a moment here and there to keep my chick-flick rom-com loving pals happy. Maybe. You'll have to read it.
Keen readers of this four-day-old blog may remember me promising on Wednesday that I might post a sneak preview of Chapter One here. Well. After a great deal of deliberation, I decided that it might be best if I posted a bit of dialogue. After all, I can tell you everything about Alex Charnley and Robert McAllister, and tell you just how much they hate each other, but it might not work quite as well as if you read their first conversation:
"Alex Charnley," he said, sounding far more cheerful than he felt.
"Charnley!"
Alex would have known the Scottish snarl anywhere.
"Bobby!" he answered, grinning broadly, as though he was addressing an old friend rather than his former boss. He felt an overwhelming sense of smug satisfaction, knowing exactly how much his cheery disposition was infuriating the man on the other end of the phone. It came as no suprise at all to Alex when his greeting initially only received a growl in reply.
"Detective Inspector McAllister to you, sonny Jim!"
"You don't sound your usual chipper self this morning. Is Mrs McAllister not giving you your porridge of a morning these days?" Alex asked, his eyes glinting mischievously. He could practically see McAllister's purple face, almost ready to explode with anger.
"That reminds me. How is Helen?" McAllister asked, a sinister smile in his voice. Alex raised his left eyebrow in derision. He had already had more than enough of his ex-wife that day.
"Oh, never mind Lady Deathstrike - what can I do for you?"
"Get to the station immediately," McAllister demanded.
"You do miss me! I knew it!"
"Be quiet, Charnley. I've no time or patience to get involved with your idiocy for longer than I need to!"
"Is it a social visit, or shall I wear a tie?" Alex asked, knowing exactly what McAllister's response would be.
"Social? You? Don't make me laugh!" he answered derisively.
"I wouldn't. I couldn't! Is it possible?"
"Charnley," McAllister said, his voice low and menacing. "If you aren't in my office in fifteen minutes, I will have you arrested. Do I make myself quite clear?"
"Arrested? For what?"
"Murder."
Alex's jaw dropped. That was a pretty big accusation, even for McAllister.
"Give me half an hour," he answered, sounding serious for the first time that day.
I know it isn't much, but hopefully it'll give you some sort of an idea of the type of chaps they are. I hope you like Alex and have a great time hating McAllister. I'll be making a start on Chapter Two over the weekend.
My next blog will probably be on Monday, I've got a busy weekend coming up and I don't want to bore you all with my incessant ramblings. I'll be telling you how I got on trying to stick to Slimming World while at an Indian restaurant. Distressingly, in the Slimming World book, there was no mention of the amount of Syns involved in a Chicken Tikka Korai. Bhuna it is, then...!!
I do have a Muse. A lot of people are sceptical about the existence of Muses, but there it is. I have a Muse. Her name is Irene - after Miss Adler, 'The Woman' of Sherlock Holmes fame who had loose morals and the brain of a genius, rather than after Mrs Roberts, the recovering alcoholic of Home and Away fame. "Strewth, dahl, I've been off the grog for years now, cobber!" - etc. Yer flamin' galah.
Anyway. Irene is a very skittish Muse. Sometimes she'll knuckle down and let me write like a thing possessed. Frequently, however, she will throw a strop, pack her bags and jet off to the Bahamas for wild nights of cocktails by the pool and lascivious carryings-on with random nameless waiters. This leaves me right in the lurch and the result has been the complete abandonment of a myriad stories through the ages.
Yes. Yes, I have created a blame character for times when the Writer's Block is upon me. What of it?! Anyway, she's got her business head on now (she's like the Muse version of Worzel Gummidge), so we're good to go.
As I reported on Wednesday, I was having trouble in linking bits of my story together. I have had much success now and have even finished the chapter! Yes! Good old Irene!! More amendments and general tweakings will be made later on tonight, and first drafts will be emailed over the weekend to anyone who wants to read it - requests to the usual address, please, all feedback is most welcome.
Some writers hate their main characters. Ian Fleming couldn't stand James Bond (fair point there, though), Arthur Conan Doyle couldn't stand Sherlock Holmes and reportedly did a little jig of delight when Sherlock and Moriarty plunged to their death during a proper man-fight. I don't think any self-respecting fan of The Goon Show would read about Moriarty falling off a cliff and *not* instantly think "You've got to go 'oooowwww'!!"
I, however, really like my main character. I do. He's a good guy. I've developed a best friend for him, as well. I was going to have him as a loner and a bit of a grump-bag, but he's got a pal now, and he's much more cheerful. The best friend is named Jonathan Bailey, but is nicknamed Tiny, due to the fact that he's six foot six. They have a lovely little bromance going on. They're going on a date at the local pub in Chapter Two, right after Alex meets Tracey.
Incredibly, there has been a bit of interest already about the will-they-won't-they nature of Alex and Tracey's relationship. I am not, have never been, and have no intention of being a romance writer. I can't be doing with all that stuff and nonsense. It irritates me. Why can't people be more like "Look. How about it?" "Yes, that'd be spiffing, thank you." "Right. Okay then!" and then just get on with it, rather than all of this moping about with faces like slapped arses and saying ridiculous things about moonlight in eyes?!?
No, I don't have a romantic fibre in my being. Having said all of that, though, it seems as though people are already rooting for them, and if there's one thing I have no objections to, it's writing to please my audience!! Giving the public what they want, that's what I'm all about!! In your *face*, poets!! So. I'm not promising the romance of the century, but there may be a moment here and there to keep my chick-flick rom-com loving pals happy. Maybe. You'll have to read it.
Keen readers of this four-day-old blog may remember me promising on Wednesday that I might post a sneak preview of Chapter One here. Well. After a great deal of deliberation, I decided that it might be best if I posted a bit of dialogue. After all, I can tell you everything about Alex Charnley and Robert McAllister, and tell you just how much they hate each other, but it might not work quite as well as if you read their first conversation:
"Alex Charnley," he said, sounding far more cheerful than he felt.
"Charnley!"
Alex would have known the Scottish snarl anywhere.
"Bobby!" he answered, grinning broadly, as though he was addressing an old friend rather than his former boss. He felt an overwhelming sense of smug satisfaction, knowing exactly how much his cheery disposition was infuriating the man on the other end of the phone. It came as no suprise at all to Alex when his greeting initially only received a growl in reply.
"Detective Inspector McAllister to you, sonny Jim!"
"You don't sound your usual chipper self this morning. Is Mrs McAllister not giving you your porridge of a morning these days?" Alex asked, his eyes glinting mischievously. He could practically see McAllister's purple face, almost ready to explode with anger.
"That reminds me. How is Helen?" McAllister asked, a sinister smile in his voice. Alex raised his left eyebrow in derision. He had already had more than enough of his ex-wife that day.
"Oh, never mind Lady Deathstrike - what can I do for you?"
"Get to the station immediately," McAllister demanded.
"You do miss me! I knew it!"
"Be quiet, Charnley. I've no time or patience to get involved with your idiocy for longer than I need to!"
"Is it a social visit, or shall I wear a tie?" Alex asked, knowing exactly what McAllister's response would be.
"Social? You? Don't make me laugh!" he answered derisively.
"I wouldn't. I couldn't! Is it possible?"
"Charnley," McAllister said, his voice low and menacing. "If you aren't in my office in fifteen minutes, I will have you arrested. Do I make myself quite clear?"
"Arrested? For what?"
"Murder."
Alex's jaw dropped. That was a pretty big accusation, even for McAllister.
"Give me half an hour," he answered, sounding serious for the first time that day.
I know it isn't much, but hopefully it'll give you some sort of an idea of the type of chaps they are. I hope you like Alex and have a great time hating McAllister. I'll be making a start on Chapter Two over the weekend.
My next blog will probably be on Monday, I've got a busy weekend coming up and I don't want to bore you all with my incessant ramblings. I'll be telling you how I got on trying to stick to Slimming World while at an Indian restaurant. Distressingly, in the Slimming World book, there was no mention of the amount of Syns involved in a Chicken Tikka Korai. Bhuna it is, then...!!
Thursday 5 January 2012
Taking a Giant Step
The first rule of Fat Club is that you don't talk about Fat Club.
The second rule of Fat Club is - YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT FAT CLUB!
That's right. This is what I'm telling you. Edward Norton and Brad Pitt are the chaps who run Slimming World in Leyland. Yep. It's true. Rule Number Eight of Fat Club, apparently, is that if it's your first night - you will be weighed.
All right, all right. It's run by a woman called Andrea, and everyone gets weighed every week. Enough of the cult film references.
I will continue henceforth to refer to Slimming World by its proper title, as I understand that some people are offended by the word 'fat'. For the record, I don't find it to be a remotely offensive word. In fact, I've found that skinny people get more offended by the word 'fat' than fat people do. I personally find more politically correct terms such as 'big', 'stocky' or 'curvy' - or, worse still, the dehumanising 'well-built' (what am I, a listed building?!) are utterly patronising and therefore far more insulting than simply calling a fat person 'fat'. As Clarissa Dickson-Wright and Jennifer Paterson, aka the women who had the cookery show Two Fat Ladies back in the late 90s, famously said, "We don't mind being called 'fat', because we are. We mind being called 'ladies' because it makes us sound like a public toilet."
Although, having said all that, I do admit to bursting into floods of tears the first time a kid in school ran up to me, pointed, laughed and started chanting 'Fatso' at me when I was four. Still. That was more about the fact that one of my peers was being brought up with abysmal manners than the fact I was on course to become the world's youngest female Fatty Arbuckle impersonator.
I honestly wasn't sure what to expect from my first night. I had awful panicky thoughts, such as, "What if they measure me?!" "What if they ask me to say something? Can't I just hide in the corner and attempt to be invisible - even though I'm 5'8" and weigh at least a tonne and that would seem to be a rather impossible ask?!" "What if I'm by far the fattest one there?!" "What if they do any crazy brainwashing/hypnosis stuff?!?" "What if it's all a great big con?!" Luckily, I wasn't measured, I didn't say a word, I managed to hide quite well and as far as I know, nobody hypnotised me. Although I have a funny feeling that if someone says the word "watch" I'll start doing a chicken impression...
I sort of half-hoped that I'd be greeted by a bunch of miserable-looking orb-like persons (all named Marjorie or Janet or something) with very cropped, badly-dyed hair in wacky colours and shapeless pale pink t-shirts with bleach stains down the front, wearing the blank expression of resignation to the fact they wouldn't be able to have so much as a jam doughnut for quite some time. Everyone seemed quite cheerful apart from the miserable bint at the door who welcomed the newbies. Blimey. Was she having a good time? If she was, her face didn't know about it...
The church hall was packed. Honestly. I've never seen so many people cram into a room in my life. I imagine that not everyone will stay every week. Most people, I imagine, will just come, sign up and then do the diet from home. Perhaps I'm just a little sceptical.
I have my reservations about the woman who runs it. She seems all right, like, but I'm just not sure about her. Perhaps I just need to get over my phobia of women named Andrea. Anyway. It was packed. The group as a whole lost 18lbs between Christmas and New Year - and put on 55lbs. Biggest gain was 11lbs (did someone just mainline lard for a week?!?!) and the biggest loss was 2 1/2 lbs. I have a great respect for anyone who can lose weight between Christmas and New Year.
My biggest fear was being sat next to a skinny woman who had freaked out over putting on a couple of pounds between Christmas and New Year. It happened. She seemed dead nice though. Her name's Hayley. There's only one bloke in the entire group (seriously, there must have been forty women there!) - his name's Dave. He got dragged along by his sister in law. He seems dead nice too. See. I was a little bit sociable. If Dave can turn up and be the only boy there and get stuck into it, then I have no excuse.
Everything was fine. The entire diet sounds utterly reasonable. Basically, I think the general idea is that if you fill up on foods with a low calorific content, your metabolism will naturally increase and you'll cut down your portion sizes as a result (e.g. swapping a bacon butty for a huge salad with all kinds of vegetables, eggs and lean meat. You're eating more but consuming less calories). Makes sense.
Then I got weighed.
I definitely wasn't expecting a number *quite* that big. You know when you keep telling yourself "Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out!" but inside you're like "I'm freaking out, I'm freaking out, I'm freaking out, I'm freaking out!"?? There was a lot of that. Andrea, to her credit, didn't even flinch. Even though she probably thought "Holy hell!"
Being weighed is never a nice thing. I don't even think if I was 10 stone I'd like it (if I was any less than that, I'd probably be dead!). But sometimes you've just got to do these things. You don't get anywhere by being an ostrich and pretending everything's cool when it isn't. The only thing I know for a fact is that I will weigh less than that this time next week.
The important things I have learned tonight, then, are as follows:
It's all good. I am less freaked out now than I was. It isn't about the starting weight. It's about the target weight. Whatever that ends up being. Remind me of this. Please. Frequently. I think I might need it.
Well. After all that excitement, I came home, had two massive chuff off glasses of something warming and am starting to feel a little sleepy. Tomorrow I'm going to have another bash at sorting out Chapter One of the story. I'm already plotting out Chapter Two in my head but I really need to knuckle down and get Chapter One to make sense. More on that tomorrow night...!!
The second rule of Fat Club is - YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT FAT CLUB!
That's right. This is what I'm telling you. Edward Norton and Brad Pitt are the chaps who run Slimming World in Leyland. Yep. It's true. Rule Number Eight of Fat Club, apparently, is that if it's your first night - you will be weighed.
All right, all right. It's run by a woman called Andrea, and everyone gets weighed every week. Enough of the cult film references.
I will continue henceforth to refer to Slimming World by its proper title, as I understand that some people are offended by the word 'fat'. For the record, I don't find it to be a remotely offensive word. In fact, I've found that skinny people get more offended by the word 'fat' than fat people do. I personally find more politically correct terms such as 'big', 'stocky' or 'curvy' - or, worse still, the dehumanising 'well-built' (what am I, a listed building?!) are utterly patronising and therefore far more insulting than simply calling a fat person 'fat'. As Clarissa Dickson-Wright and Jennifer Paterson, aka the women who had the cookery show Two Fat Ladies back in the late 90s, famously said, "We don't mind being called 'fat', because we are. We mind being called 'ladies' because it makes us sound like a public toilet."
Although, having said all that, I do admit to bursting into floods of tears the first time a kid in school ran up to me, pointed, laughed and started chanting 'Fatso' at me when I was four. Still. That was more about the fact that one of my peers was being brought up with abysmal manners than the fact I was on course to become the world's youngest female Fatty Arbuckle impersonator.
I honestly wasn't sure what to expect from my first night. I had awful panicky thoughts, such as, "What if they measure me?!" "What if they ask me to say something? Can't I just hide in the corner and attempt to be invisible - even though I'm 5'8" and weigh at least a tonne and that would seem to be a rather impossible ask?!" "What if I'm by far the fattest one there?!" "What if they do any crazy brainwashing/hypnosis stuff?!?" "What if it's all a great big con?!" Luckily, I wasn't measured, I didn't say a word, I managed to hide quite well and as far as I know, nobody hypnotised me. Although I have a funny feeling that if someone says the word "watch" I'll start doing a chicken impression...
I sort of half-hoped that I'd be greeted by a bunch of miserable-looking orb-like persons (all named Marjorie or Janet or something) with very cropped, badly-dyed hair in wacky colours and shapeless pale pink t-shirts with bleach stains down the front, wearing the blank expression of resignation to the fact they wouldn't be able to have so much as a jam doughnut for quite some time. Everyone seemed quite cheerful apart from the miserable bint at the door who welcomed the newbies. Blimey. Was she having a good time? If she was, her face didn't know about it...
The church hall was packed. Honestly. I've never seen so many people cram into a room in my life. I imagine that not everyone will stay every week. Most people, I imagine, will just come, sign up and then do the diet from home. Perhaps I'm just a little sceptical.
I have my reservations about the woman who runs it. She seems all right, like, but I'm just not sure about her. Perhaps I just need to get over my phobia of women named Andrea. Anyway. It was packed. The group as a whole lost 18lbs between Christmas and New Year - and put on 55lbs. Biggest gain was 11lbs (did someone just mainline lard for a week?!?!) and the biggest loss was 2 1/2 lbs. I have a great respect for anyone who can lose weight between Christmas and New Year.
My biggest fear was being sat next to a skinny woman who had freaked out over putting on a couple of pounds between Christmas and New Year. It happened. She seemed dead nice though. Her name's Hayley. There's only one bloke in the entire group (seriously, there must have been forty women there!) - his name's Dave. He got dragged along by his sister in law. He seems dead nice too. See. I was a little bit sociable. If Dave can turn up and be the only boy there and get stuck into it, then I have no excuse.
Everything was fine. The entire diet sounds utterly reasonable. Basically, I think the general idea is that if you fill up on foods with a low calorific content, your metabolism will naturally increase and you'll cut down your portion sizes as a result (e.g. swapping a bacon butty for a huge salad with all kinds of vegetables, eggs and lean meat. You're eating more but consuming less calories). Makes sense.
Then I got weighed.
I definitely wasn't expecting a number *quite* that big. You know when you keep telling yourself "Don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out!" but inside you're like "I'm freaking out, I'm freaking out, I'm freaking out, I'm freaking out!"?? There was a lot of that. Andrea, to her credit, didn't even flinch. Even though she probably thought "Holy hell!"
Being weighed is never a nice thing. I don't even think if I was 10 stone I'd like it (if I was any less than that, I'd probably be dead!). But sometimes you've just got to do these things. You don't get anywhere by being an ostrich and pretending everything's cool when it isn't. The only thing I know for a fact is that I will weigh less than that this time next week.
The important things I have learned tonight, then, are as follows:
- I can have a double brandy and ginger *and* a little bar of chocolate EVERY DAY!!!
- The healthiest takeaway you can have, if you're going to have one, is Chinese.
- You'd be surprised at how many people you can fit into a small room with a pair of scales.
Well. After all that excitement, I came home, had two massive chuff off glasses of something warming and am starting to feel a little sleepy. Tomorrow I'm going to have another bash at sorting out Chapter One of the story. I'm already plotting out Chapter Two in my head but I really need to knuckle down and get Chapter One to make sense. More on that tomorrow night...!!
Wednesday 4 January 2012
Waiting for the Muse to Hit
So I've decided, rather than write about my epic salad making abilities and my torturous attempts to lure the Muse into creating a masterpiece all in the same blog, I'll write about the two main topics of my Plans alternately. I know, I could have two separate blogs for this purpose, but to be completely honest, I've not got the time for all that messing about. This will be good for both of us. It'll be good for me because it'll force me to concentrate on one thing at a time. It'll be good for you because you won't have as much to read. Okay, maybe that's not strictly true. Technically, you'll actually have twice as much to read, but at least it'll be broken down into easy-to-manage sections, rather than five thousand word epics.
My plan tonight will be to get my head down and get Chapter One boxed off. I had hoped to get more writing done during the Christmas break and be working towards finishing Chapter Two off, but that just didn't happen. I'd quote that wise piece of advice about "plans of mice and men" but I can't remember it and I don't think it ever made any sense to me anyway. The point is - I had planned to, but as it turned out, I didn't. So I'm going to have a go at sorting out the mess I'm making of Chapter One and getting it into a vaguely readable format tonight before pulling it to pieces and editing it to death on Friday. Never let it be said that I don't know how to live it up.
I have fallen into my usual trap of writing scenes and not knowing how to link them together. You know how it goes. Sometimes there's just a lot of words you skim through while you're reading because you're so keen on getting to the action, or the acerbic exchanges of wit, or (as will never be the case in anything I write - and that's a promise!) the soppy stuff. Well, I get like that with my stories - the only problem being that I'm actually trying to write the blasted thing and I have no bits to skim through, just the action and acerbic exchanges of wit - but obviously no soppy stuff. This is quite a problem. I'll never get 100,000 words written at this rate (even though I'm only aiming for 80,000 - I'm planning on a sequel!)!
I have four or five scenes written out, some need some quite blatant reworking, some can wait till my first read-through. That's all, though. I mean, I do need to link them together somehow. I really ought to work on patience (it's a virtue, apparently) and being a more methodical sort of writer, I'm sure I'm making far more work for myself than I need to. I'm sure I'm not being particularly efficient with my time.
There again, I don't know how much notice should really be taken of how long it takes to get something done. Shakespeare usually took about three days to write one of his plays. By way of contrast, however, apparently James Joyce was known to take all day to write one sentence on occasion, so maybe I'm not doing too badly in comparison. I'll get there evenutally, anyway. It's all progress.
I shall update you with the progress of Chapter One on Friday - I may *even* tantalise you with a sneak preview!! Tomorrow, however, sees the real Step One of the main mission. My first meeting at Da Club (which is likely what I'd call it if I were 'street'. No, don't worry, I shan't try that again). I have never been to one of these places before, so I'm completely unsure of what to expect, aside from the usual in-built prejudices and urban myths surrounding this sort of process. I am feeling a little trepidatious but no doubt everyone there will be very kind, and varying degrees of cuddly - and hopefully there will be very few skinny people lamenting at how they put on three pounds over Christmas and are finding it a struggle to get into their size eight jeans. Expect a full report of that tomorrow night.
My plan tonight will be to get my head down and get Chapter One boxed off. I had hoped to get more writing done during the Christmas break and be working towards finishing Chapter Two off, but that just didn't happen. I'd quote that wise piece of advice about "plans of mice and men" but I can't remember it and I don't think it ever made any sense to me anyway. The point is - I had planned to, but as it turned out, I didn't. So I'm going to have a go at sorting out the mess I'm making of Chapter One and getting it into a vaguely readable format tonight before pulling it to pieces and editing it to death on Friday. Never let it be said that I don't know how to live it up.
I have fallen into my usual trap of writing scenes and not knowing how to link them together. You know how it goes. Sometimes there's just a lot of words you skim through while you're reading because you're so keen on getting to the action, or the acerbic exchanges of wit, or (as will never be the case in anything I write - and that's a promise!) the soppy stuff. Well, I get like that with my stories - the only problem being that I'm actually trying to write the blasted thing and I have no bits to skim through, just the action and acerbic exchanges of wit - but obviously no soppy stuff. This is quite a problem. I'll never get 100,000 words written at this rate (even though I'm only aiming for 80,000 - I'm planning on a sequel!)!
I have four or five scenes written out, some need some quite blatant reworking, some can wait till my first read-through. That's all, though. I mean, I do need to link them together somehow. I really ought to work on patience (it's a virtue, apparently) and being a more methodical sort of writer, I'm sure I'm making far more work for myself than I need to. I'm sure I'm not being particularly efficient with my time.
There again, I don't know how much notice should really be taken of how long it takes to get something done. Shakespeare usually took about three days to write one of his plays. By way of contrast, however, apparently James Joyce was known to take all day to write one sentence on occasion, so maybe I'm not doing too badly in comparison. I'll get there evenutally, anyway. It's all progress.
I shall update you with the progress of Chapter One on Friday - I may *even* tantalise you with a sneak preview!! Tomorrow, however, sees the real Step One of the main mission. My first meeting at Da Club (which is likely what I'd call it if I were 'street'. No, don't worry, I shan't try that again). I have never been to one of these places before, so I'm completely unsure of what to expect, aside from the usual in-built prejudices and urban myths surrounding this sort of process. I am feeling a little trepidatious but no doubt everyone there will be very kind, and varying degrees of cuddly - and hopefully there will be very few skinny people lamenting at how they put on three pounds over Christmas and are finding it a struggle to get into their size eight jeans. Expect a full report of that tomorrow night.
Tuesday 3 January 2012
Here We Go, Then...
It's been ages since I had a blog. I know, I know, I need to get more fibre in my diet.
That's kind of why I've started this blog. Erm. Nothing to do with the internal workings of my digestive system, you understand. Oh, no. Allow me to elucidate (me and my hobbies...!).
It's 2012. Which is ridiculous. Last time I checked it was 2002 and I was an 18 year old brat with an attitude that would make Kevin the Teenager wince. Somehow, without me noticing, ten years have slipped by and I am now staring the big Three-Oh right in the face. In less than eighteen months, I will be thirty. I admit to beinga touch unnerved freaked out *completely petrified* by this fact. What happened to the last decade?! Was it so boring and inconsequential that I failed to realise how quickly time has passed me by?!
You probably aren't as big a fan of Christian Slater as I was when I was 14. But in one of his films, Kuffs, there is a very poignant line: "You're 21 years old. 30 comes along awful fast." When you're 14 that sounds like an absolute nonsense. Now that I'm twice that age I can completely testify to the truth in that statement.
There is a point. I will get to it.
I don't really hold a great deal of store by the concept of the New Year Resolution, but I did promise myself two things this year. Those two things are thus:
I paint such a picture, don't I?!
I've made a start today. I had breakfast and everything. My plan is, not necessarily to document what I've eaten (although I'd like to take this opportunity to mention that I made epic salad boxes for myself and my big sister this morning! I cannot wait till lunchtime!), but to just keep a track of how things are going. It's all very well and good being full of the best of intentions on 3rd January, but if I get a bit stressed out and fancy trying to consume my body weight in chocolate by, say 26th February, I have a feeling it might be a bit of a healthier outlet to write a big rant rather than nosh for England and then feel rubbishy. Twelve months. Five dress sizes. Not an impossible ask. If Dawn French can drop six stone, so can I. I'm quite sure I have all that and then some to get rid of!
My second reason for starting a blog is that I've started writing my first novel. It's a spy romp/murder mystery type thing, provisionally called The Phantom Winger. Quite a few up and coming novelists have blogs about their books and things, so I thought I'd give it a go. Perhaps it will be a good idea, if I have the dreaded Writer's Block, to write a blog entry, rather than writing nothing at all and being annoyed at myself for not being dedicated enough. I may occasionally share excerpts and ideas from my story, just so you all know how it's coming along - any feedback at all will be gratefully received.
My main character is an ex-copper turned private investigator named Alex Charnley. He's 30 years old, is 5'8" and has red hair (think more Andre Villas-Boas than Chris Evans, though). He lives in Deepdale and supports Preston North End. He has a four-year-old son named Harry who lives with his ex-wife, Helen (aka Lady Deathstrike/Medusa/Cruella de Vil/whichever name comes to Alex's mind at the time of insult) and her idiot boyfriend, Scott, who is, in Alex's words, "a sort of human version of Action Man - all rippling muscles, perfect hair and no genitalia." He gets caught up in a police investigation surrounding the mysterious murder of a man who is found decapitated in the Preston docklands. I'm quite excited about just getting on and writing it.
That's it for now, I reckon. I've bored you enough. The majority of my blog entries will likely be similarly lengthy and rambly. My advice is to only start reading once you're settled down with a cup of tea and a biscuit!!
That's kind of why I've started this blog. Erm. Nothing to do with the internal workings of my digestive system, you understand. Oh, no. Allow me to elucidate (me and my hobbies...!).
It's 2012. Which is ridiculous. Last time I checked it was 2002 and I was an 18 year old brat with an attitude that would make Kevin the Teenager wince. Somehow, without me noticing, ten years have slipped by and I am now staring the big Three-Oh right in the face. In less than eighteen months, I will be thirty. I admit to being
You probably aren't as big a fan of Christian Slater as I was when I was 14. But in one of his films, Kuffs, there is a very poignant line: "You're 21 years old. 30 comes along awful fast." When you're 14 that sounds like an absolute nonsense. Now that I'm twice that age I can completely testify to the truth in that statement.
There is a point. I will get to it.
I don't really hold a great deal of store by the concept of the New Year Resolution, but I did promise myself two things this year. Those two things are thus:
- I will not be a morbidly obese 30-year-old.
- I will do something positive and constructive with regard to pursuing my dream of having a book published.
I paint such a picture, don't I?!
I've made a start today. I had breakfast and everything. My plan is, not necessarily to document what I've eaten (although I'd like to take this opportunity to mention that I made epic salad boxes for myself and my big sister this morning! I cannot wait till lunchtime!), but to just keep a track of how things are going. It's all very well and good being full of the best of intentions on 3rd January, but if I get a bit stressed out and fancy trying to consume my body weight in chocolate by, say 26th February, I have a feeling it might be a bit of a healthier outlet to write a big rant rather than nosh for England and then feel rubbishy. Twelve months. Five dress sizes. Not an impossible ask. If Dawn French can drop six stone, so can I. I'm quite sure I have all that and then some to get rid of!
My second reason for starting a blog is that I've started writing my first novel. It's a spy romp/murder mystery type thing, provisionally called The Phantom Winger. Quite a few up and coming novelists have blogs about their books and things, so I thought I'd give it a go. Perhaps it will be a good idea, if I have the dreaded Writer's Block, to write a blog entry, rather than writing nothing at all and being annoyed at myself for not being dedicated enough. I may occasionally share excerpts and ideas from my story, just so you all know how it's coming along - any feedback at all will be gratefully received.
My main character is an ex-copper turned private investigator named Alex Charnley. He's 30 years old, is 5'8" and has red hair (think more Andre Villas-Boas than Chris Evans, though). He lives in Deepdale and supports Preston North End. He has a four-year-old son named Harry who lives with his ex-wife, Helen (aka Lady Deathstrike/Medusa/Cruella de Vil/whichever name comes to Alex's mind at the time of insult) and her idiot boyfriend, Scott, who is, in Alex's words, "a sort of human version of Action Man - all rippling muscles, perfect hair and no genitalia." He gets caught up in a police investigation surrounding the mysterious murder of a man who is found decapitated in the Preston docklands. I'm quite excited about just getting on and writing it.
That's it for now, I reckon. I've bored you enough. The majority of my blog entries will likely be similarly lengthy and rambly. My advice is to only start reading once you're settled down with a cup of tea and a biscuit!!
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