Le Gasp!! Il Gaspo!! Die Gazpen!!

Yeah that's right, so shocking I had to say it in French and then translate it into Spanish and German.

The shocks are manifold in this blog entry, so if you're of a nervous disposition I'd recommend changing your knickers now and bringing a spare pair back to the computer with you, just in case.

Firstly... I'm writing a blog entry!

I know, it's been ages.  Well, I had my mojo working - but it just didn't work on slimming.  I ate.  And I drank.  And I was merry.  Well - I may say I was merry, but actually it was just one long stretch of beating myself up for being weak-willed.

Also, it turns out that I am still very addicted to chocolate.  I thought after giving it up for eight months I'd be absolutely fine.  No.  Not at all.  In fact all I want to do with my life is to eat chocolate for breakfast, dinner and tea, give up work and eat my body weight in cocoa-infused products.  It's a dangerous substance. 

Anyway.  I think I'm back on the straight and narrow now.  I said I'd give myself twelve months and it's only been eight so, y'know, I won't give up.

The second shocking revelation in today's blog entry is this... the llamas will be having TWO fiestas today!!!

I know, after weeks and weeks of training, they're finally ready for two fiestas.  The first one is because, two weeks ago - I finally got my 4stone award.  Take it away, chaps...!!

AAARRRRIIIIIIBBBAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  Ole!!!

*dances round like a mad eejit* Phewf!!

Yeah, that's right, four stone - that's 56lbs to my American pals and 25.4kg to my... metric pals.  It's a small child.  Or at least a substantial percentage of the average adult.  I only got my certificate on the night, they'd run out of shiny stickers, but fear not, I've got my shiny sticker now and it's there, shining proudly on the back of my Slimming World book. 

The second fiesta will come later.

The third shock is this - after nearly two weeks of eating and drinking like an attendee at a Roman banquet, I hopped on the scales last night at Fat Club, and lo and behold, I'd lost a pound!!

I was convinced I'd put at least 10lbs on.  At least 10.  I'd really given it a good go, y'know.  I had chocolate, and doughnuts, and... a lot of booze... and takeaways, and crisps, and basically everything I haven't had in the last eight months!!

In fact, I was so convinced that I'd ruined things for myself that I seriously considered just quitting and carrying on the diet from home.  I was absolutely terrified at the prospect of getting back on the scales.  I knew exactly how much I'd gone off the rails.  Although, to be fair - I've really got Jo to thank that I've got this far anyway, she's an amazing cook and has really kept me on the straight and narrow far more than I realised. 

Thankfully, I had a stern talking-to from various friends and family members, and so last night I trudged down the hill to the Church Hall to hop on the scales.  I dunno if I've mentioned, but the song that always plays in my head when I get on the scales and get a good result is 'You're the Best' by Joe Esposito (the theme tune to The Karate Kid - the real one, not the silly remake).  It was like it was playing in some sort of quadrophonic stereo type capacity when I saw the scales say I'd actually lost weight!!

And now - the FOURTH shock of this blog!!!

The song faded out as the Weighing Lady (I think her name's Natalie but I'm not sure.  I really should find out, shouldn't I, I've been going for eight months!)  started interrogating me about whether I'd been to group last week, or the week before.  I felt a bit guilty but I told her I skipped Fat Club last week and didn't stay to group the week before.  She started mumbling to herself and then asked the Check-In Lady (Dawn) if it was definitely me, and Dawn said that it was, and then after a few moments' conflab between them, the Weighing Lady and I had the following conversation:

WL:  Because, erm, well - you've been named Woman of the Year!
ME:  Oh yeah, right!!  Hahahahaha!!!!!
[awkward pause]
ME:  What, really?!
WL:  Really.
ME:  Me?!
WL:  You.
ME:  [points to self]  ME?!?
WL:  Yes, that's right.
ME:  You mean.... me?!?!!???
WL:  [rolls eyes] Yes, you!!
ME:  Are you sure????  There must be some sort of mistake!!
WL:  No, no, it's you. 
[SPEV gazes off distractedly as the record player in her head starts up again - "You're the best... AROOOOUUND!!  NOTHIN'S GONNA EVER KEEP YOU DOOOWWNNN!!!!"]

Unfortunately, Andrea the Consultant was on holiday, and so I won't know more about it until next week.  I have no idea what it means, but the reports all seem to suggest that I will be getting a certificate, hopefully a shiny sticker and, most excitingly of all - A SASH!!!

That's right, all I'll need is a peaked hat and I could join International Rescue.

So, when I told the llamas, naturally they were all delighted and started leaping about (gambolling, even, I think you could say), doing back flips and Miguel even moonwalked down the street with happiness.  Our Joanna cried.  It was all very exciting.  The latest member of my dancing llama troupe, Pedro, called up one of his 'contacts' and actually arranged a float for the second fiesta!!!  I mean it's only a milk-float but you've got to take what you can get, right?

Without further ado - let's all shake our maracas, shimmy like we've no backbone and roll our Rs in a celebratory Latino fashion!!!!

Waahhooooo!!!!!  *shimmy*  *shake*  *wiggle*  *etc*

I'm amazed and shocked and... well...  Amazed.  I can't believe people actually voted for me.  I didn't think anyone noticed - I mean not even I've noticed!  I hope I don't have to say anything next week.

So, if you've not died of boredom yet, that's basically what's happened over the last couple of weeks, slimming-wise.  It didn't feel as though a lot went on - but clearly, it did!!  Fabulous.

I've got eight weigh-ins left before the Michael Nesmith concert.  I would love to have got my 5 stone award by then, and I'll certainly be working towards it.  I've done it four times before so I don't think it's exactly impossible.  But it'd still be nice to have done it by the time October 29th comes round.

Join me again - next time... whenever that might be.... maybe next week... when I might have something else to say.  Possibly....!!!

Dressin' Fine, Makin' Time

I would like to apologise for my complete failure on the blogging front recently.  Work's been mental and I haven't had time to write.  Sorry.

Thursday went well.  I lost 2 1/2 lbs.  I now have 2 1/2 lbs to lose before I get my 4 stone award.  I'd LOVE it if it was this week.  I'm giving it my best shot this week.  I've been determined, I'm still on the wagon (Day 16.  Blood is now coursing through my alcohol stream.  I'm starting to see things as they really are.  'Floor!'  'Curtains!' 'Gobshite!'  Erm.  Sorry.  Just went all Father Ted there for a minute!), I've kept to well under 10 Syns a day, except for Saturday when I went half a Syn over, but I'm not worried about that really.  I've walked a lot.  I haven't  been quite as stressed out this week as I have been during the last two weeks about losing weight.  I don't feel any different or any thinner.  I know I couldn't possibly have put weight on with the things I've been eating, but hey - who knows how the human body works?  Certainly not me.  It'th a mythtery, as Toyah Wilcox might say.  For the benefit of my readers under the age of 35 and who therefore don't know who Toyah Wilcox is - ask your mum.  She'll always be Monkey to me.  Toyah, that is.  Not your mum.  I feel as though I'm unwittingly starting to stray into unintentional 'your mum' jokes territory.  I'm going to end this aside right now before I get into trouble!

I'm really sorry you missed the fiesta.  It was a special fiesta as well, in honour of the synchronised swimming.  Ricardo has become obsessed with it.  He designed a load of inflatable leg warmers for the llamas and they did a fabulous routine.  If I get my 4 stone shiny sticker this week I'll get them to re-create the whole thing for you.

I should point out at this juncture that I will probably be off-grid for the next ten days or so.  I'll update as much as I can, obviously, but on Friday, Saturday and Sunday I shall be at the annual District Convention of Jehovah's Witnesses in Liverpool.  In the North West for the last 14 years or so it's been held at the Manchester Arena and it's a big, scary place, so my family and I have escaped to somewhere far more exotic for the Convention over the last few years.  Stoke-on-Trent.  Anyway, this year it's in Liverpool, and as my entire family are from the glorious city, we're very excited about the prospect. 

I have new dresses.  I had a disastrous afternoon's shopping on Saturday.  Not that the company was disastrous, you understand - it was fabulous. After all, I was with my pal, Heather.  I know.  Two Heathers, no messing.  She's awesome and I love her to distraction.  So, I had a grand old time as always with her, it was just the dresses were the problem.  They were either too short or too low (and although I'm skinny now, I still have massive knockers to deal with) - and often both at the same time.  Although at least they all fitted me.  It's nice to know that I can walk into a shop, pick up a dress in a particular size and know that it will fit me.  I don't think I've ever done that before.  It's all progress.  I found a new dress yesterday, which is very pretty and fits me, so I'm nearly replete with dresses in my wardrobe, which is all very exciting.  Eventually, I will post my 'before' and 'half way through' photos.  I just need to retrieve the 'before' photo that my Auntie Heather took of me in January!

After the Convention, I'm moving out of home for a week or so.  Long story.  I'm sleeping at my pal's house for a few nights and then staying with another pal for a few nights.  I should still be able to update the blog while I'm away because I'll still be working, but if not, you'll know why.  My life should hopefully return to normal - well, as normal as my life ever gets, anyway - on or around 23 August, which coincides with the Global Public Holiday I've been campaigning for for the last who knows how long - International Keith Moon Day.  Everything is wonderful on that day, it's by far my favourite day on the calendar.  So it's only fitting, really, that everything sorts itself out by then.

I shall try to update on Wednesday or Thursday but I won't be able to update on my results from Fat Club until at least Monday next week.  Sorry about that, chaps.  Wish me luck though.  I have a feeling that this week I'm seriously going to need it!!

24 Toasters from Scunthorpe

Prizes will be handed out to anyone who gets the reference in today's blog title.  Answers to the usual address.

It's Wednesday.  Just over 24 hours to go and I'll be hopping back on those scales for the first time in three weeks. 

I.  Am.  Terrified.

What if I've thought I've been doing the right things for the last week or two and actually I haven't and I've put a couple of stone on?  Actually, is that biologically possible?  Even if it isn't I bet I probably still would!!

When you do something unpleasant on a regular basis, the pleasantness doesn't improve, because it's always a horrible thing to do, but the discomfort does subside a little because you're used to it.  I can't really think of anything nearly as unpleasant to willingly put oneself through aside from going to work every day.  You have to do it because otherwise you starve, it isn't pleasant but you go anyway, and then you usually find it isn't quite so hellish when you get there.  Unless you work for the NHS.  Fabulous institution, Britain's best idea by miles - absolutely terrible employer. 

I'm going off-topic.

My point is, I avoided scales like the plague until January, and then I've subsequently I've hopped on a pair every week for the last 26 weeks or so.  I never liked getting on the scales but it had become a slightly less scary prospect.  After 20 days away from the scales, half of which were spent mostly in blissful varying stages of inebriation - I have roughly the same desire to get back on the scales as a Death Row convict has when offered a seat a large chair near an electric switch.

But it's one of those things, isn't it?  I've got to do it otherwise I'll just slip back into the old routine, and I really don't want that.  I've come much too far now.  Or at least I think I have.  Who knows. 

What if the worst happens?  What if I do get on the scales tomorrow and even though I've reined it back in SO much over the last ten days I've still put weight on?  Am I going to give up?  Go back to how things used to be?  Think "I'll never get there" and cry for an hour?  Probably.  But then after I've cried for an hour I'll have a stern talk to myself, stop being weak and pathetic and get the hell back on it again.  Marathon.  Not a sprint.  I will get there.  Whether that happens this year or next year.  I gave myself 18 months to do this, and on June 3rd 2013 I will look completely different to how I looked on January 1st 2012.  I will.  I'll even post pictures to prove it.

Maybe!

Join me on Friday.  I will have got back on the scales and I'll know exactly what I'm working with.  The llamas are going to have a fiesta anyway because it's the Olympics and Ricardo has decided to try and campaign for 'fiesta-ing' to be an Olympic sport.  He's even designed Team GB's legwarmers for the Rio Olympics...