Yesterday was okay. The test itself wasn't remotely difficult, all I had to do was just lie down and have flashing lights in my eyes for fifteen minutes and then breathe like Darth Vader during hayfever season for three minutes and then they let me have a kip. Staying awake for twenty-four hours prior to that, however, was pretty tough going. Between half past two and half past three I felt ridiculously hyper, between four and six I thought I was going crazy and felt like my eyeballs were going to fall out of their sockets. The worst part was the car journey to the hospital, I couldn't keep my eyes open!! I must've looked dreadful. I certainly felt like I'd died three weeks earlier and my body was just in the process of catching up with me...
When it finally came to the time the nurse let me sleep, and how I managed to stay awake through the rest of the test is still beyond me, as luck would have it - no sooner did I close my eyes than the workmen outside thought it'd be a great idea to start drilling the pavement. Not even a euphemism. Still, after approximately 28 hours, even if they'd started drilling in the exam room I wouldn't have noticed, I was out like a light for fifteen glorious minutes. Sigh. It was great.
Anyway, that's all over now and hopefully I won't have to do it again.
But today was my second weigh-in after a week of generally being good and refusing yummy stuff and being completely sober, I hopped back on the scales, waiting to see how I'd done. The llamas got their new leg-warmers on especially for the occasion, ready at any moment to put on the fiesta of all fiestas. I crossed my fingers, I thought thin thoughts, I said the magic words "Please don't let me put any weight on...!" and then looked at the number on the scales...
It was exactly the same. Exactly. To the ounce. Absolutely nothing had altered.
Positives: Hey, at least I didn't put any on!
Negatives: WTF?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!! What is the point in life?!!? Nothing is worth anything!! I AM POINTLESS!!! I should just die now and save the NHS time and expense on treating any future weight-related health issues!!!! *sob*
After having a mini-breakdown and writing seven different versions of a suicide note, I told my Mum when she came to visit. She said she'd been weighed the previous day and hopped on the scales to see what it said about her. If they're to be believed she put half a stone on in less than 24 hours... Then she said that the scales were actually third-hand and not very good.
So.... erm... Well, the llamas haven't done a fiesta today because we're all scratching our heads in confusion.
I'm changing the scales and getting weighed again tomorrow so I can start all over again. So the llamas will have an extra week to work on their routine. It will be spectacular. Or at least it should be.
Flippin' scales. They do have a habit of spoiling people's day. But they won't do next week!!!
Showing posts with label clothes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label clothes. Show all posts
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
Monday, 6 January 2014
Pick Yourself Up, Dust Yourself Off, Start All Over Again
So, yes, it's been ages.
2013 was officially the worst year of my life. Turning 30, surprisingly, was the least traumatic event of the year. Most of my pals know the main things that have happened to my family and I this past year, and just one of them would've been enough to send anyone over the edge - but the culmination of all the traumas ended up with me completely losing it in July and I've been too ill to work since.
Not to mention the fact that the RSPCA have revoked my llama-keeping licence. I sent the boys on holiday to Bolivia and apparently that makes me responsible for the veritable epidemic of llamas in Bolivia. Trust me, nobody was more surprised than I was. All this time I thought they were gay.
Anyway. Now it's 2014 and I haven't stopped thinking about the fact that I've hit the big Three-Oh and still not actually achieved anything I'd set out to achieve. My twenties were mostly a dreadful waste of time and energy. I don't even remember most of them, they were such a non-event. And I'm buggered if I'll waste my thirties in the same way. I don't want to wake up one morning and suddenly realise I'm 40 and be at the same point in my life that I'm at now.
So that's sort of part of the reason I've decided to lose weight again. For the last time. I've really no intention of putting myself through this more than twice. I haven't weighed myself yet but I'm pretty sure I've put all five stone and then some back on. To be honest, the way last year panned out I'm amazed I haven't put twice as much back on. But last year is over. It's time to stop moping and wallowing and sort myself out once and for all. And with everything else spinning horribly out of control - the one thing in my life I do have any say over is what I put into this colossal sphere with limbs known as my body. Maybe if I can get one thing under control, other things might follow. One thing at a time, and all that.
After having lost weight and put it on again, I am aware of a few things. My size actually is important in the way I feel about myself, no matter how much I would like to believe otherwise. I don't judge other people by their size or their looks, and most normal people don't - but I really don't need any excuse to find something to hate and judge myself over. Although intrinsically I'm the same person I always have been, I do know that when I was a bit smaller I wasn't so terrified of going out in public. I'm never going to think I'm in any way awesome, but I know I did get to the stage where I didn't feel like I was too fat and too ugly to live any more. That was quite a nice feeling. I never felt pretty, but I at least felt average-looking, which was a really huge leap for me. Perhaps that's the ceiling. I can't be proud of myself and I can't love myself or like myself - but I KNOW I managed to feel OK about myself. I'd like to feel OK again.
I am not going to rejoin Slimming World, however, I am going to try and stick to the principles of it as closely as I can. It isn't a diet a person can realistically live with for the rest of their life, but there's no denying that their methods do work, Also, I don't want to set myself a time-based target to lose weight by, because I know it took me years to get this gigantic and it's going to take a similar length of time to start looking like a person again. So if by June I haven't lost three stone or whatever little goal I might have in mind, I don't want to freak out about it. It'll happen eventually because I'm going to have to make it happen. Sadly, nobody's gonna come along, wave a magic wand and transform me into Scarlett Johansson!! I have a dress size in mind, rather than a weight. It takes longer to lose a dress size than it does to lose a pound, so that's why I'll be weighing myself once a week. Last time my big letdown was the fact I didn't really exercise, so I know I need to prioritise doing that. Even if it does look like I'm gaining weight at first - someone please remind me that muscle weighs more than fat!!
I'm going to keep the blog going again as well. It's good therapy for me and you never know, hopefully it might help other people too - especially people who've lost a significant amount of weight and then put it back on. It happens. I know I'm not the only one who's done it - and it's nice to know that other people feel the same way and have the same experiences. Being fat is isolating enough without feeling like you're the only one who feels the way you feel. Yes, you do feel ashamed of yourself for being weak enough to get yourself back to the very place you didn't want to be in - but you don't just have one go at weight-loss. For some people it's not an issue, but for a lot of us it is truly a battle - and the one thing you need in a battle is support from your pals. I know how much the support of all my friends meant to me and how much it genuinely helped me keep going when I thought I couldn't back in 2012, and I know I can't do it again without the same encouragement.
I've binned the chocolate. I've knocked booze on the head. Bread and I are no longer friends. I am going to adopt my game face, I will have a cast-iron resolve and hey, eventually - I will have one hell of a wardrobe. In the meantime, I've got work to do.
Now then, where did I put my Skip-It?!?!
2013 was officially the worst year of my life. Turning 30, surprisingly, was the least traumatic event of the year. Most of my pals know the main things that have happened to my family and I this past year, and just one of them would've been enough to send anyone over the edge - but the culmination of all the traumas ended up with me completely losing it in July and I've been too ill to work since.
Not to mention the fact that the RSPCA have revoked my llama-keeping licence. I sent the boys on holiday to Bolivia and apparently that makes me responsible for the veritable epidemic of llamas in Bolivia. Trust me, nobody was more surprised than I was. All this time I thought they were gay.
Anyway. Now it's 2014 and I haven't stopped thinking about the fact that I've hit the big Three-Oh and still not actually achieved anything I'd set out to achieve. My twenties were mostly a dreadful waste of time and energy. I don't even remember most of them, they were such a non-event. And I'm buggered if I'll waste my thirties in the same way. I don't want to wake up one morning and suddenly realise I'm 40 and be at the same point in my life that I'm at now.
So that's sort of part of the reason I've decided to lose weight again. For the last time. I've really no intention of putting myself through this more than twice. I haven't weighed myself yet but I'm pretty sure I've put all five stone and then some back on. To be honest, the way last year panned out I'm amazed I haven't put twice as much back on. But last year is over. It's time to stop moping and wallowing and sort myself out once and for all. And with everything else spinning horribly out of control - the one thing in my life I do have any say over is what I put into this colossal sphere with limbs known as my body. Maybe if I can get one thing under control, other things might follow. One thing at a time, and all that.
After having lost weight and put it on again, I am aware of a few things. My size actually is important in the way I feel about myself, no matter how much I would like to believe otherwise. I don't judge other people by their size or their looks, and most normal people don't - but I really don't need any excuse to find something to hate and judge myself over. Although intrinsically I'm the same person I always have been, I do know that when I was a bit smaller I wasn't so terrified of going out in public. I'm never going to think I'm in any way awesome, but I know I did get to the stage where I didn't feel like I was too fat and too ugly to live any more. That was quite a nice feeling. I never felt pretty, but I at least felt average-looking, which was a really huge leap for me. Perhaps that's the ceiling. I can't be proud of myself and I can't love myself or like myself - but I KNOW I managed to feel OK about myself. I'd like to feel OK again.
I am not going to rejoin Slimming World, however, I am going to try and stick to the principles of it as closely as I can. It isn't a diet a person can realistically live with for the rest of their life, but there's no denying that their methods do work, Also, I don't want to set myself a time-based target to lose weight by, because I know it took me years to get this gigantic and it's going to take a similar length of time to start looking like a person again. So if by June I haven't lost three stone or whatever little goal I might have in mind, I don't want to freak out about it. It'll happen eventually because I'm going to have to make it happen. Sadly, nobody's gonna come along, wave a magic wand and transform me into Scarlett Johansson!! I have a dress size in mind, rather than a weight. It takes longer to lose a dress size than it does to lose a pound, so that's why I'll be weighing myself once a week. Last time my big letdown was the fact I didn't really exercise, so I know I need to prioritise doing that. Even if it does look like I'm gaining weight at first - someone please remind me that muscle weighs more than fat!!
I'm going to keep the blog going again as well. It's good therapy for me and you never know, hopefully it might help other people too - especially people who've lost a significant amount of weight and then put it back on. It happens. I know I'm not the only one who's done it - and it's nice to know that other people feel the same way and have the same experiences. Being fat is isolating enough without feeling like you're the only one who feels the way you feel. Yes, you do feel ashamed of yourself for being weak enough to get yourself back to the very place you didn't want to be in - but you don't just have one go at weight-loss. For some people it's not an issue, but for a lot of us it is truly a battle - and the one thing you need in a battle is support from your pals. I know how much the support of all my friends meant to me and how much it genuinely helped me keep going when I thought I couldn't back in 2012, and I know I can't do it again without the same encouragement.
I've binned the chocolate. I've knocked booze on the head. Bread and I are no longer friends. I am going to adopt my game face, I will have a cast-iron resolve and hey, eventually - I will have one hell of a wardrobe. In the meantime, I've got work to do.
Now then, where did I put my Skip-It?!?!
Friday, 14 September 2012
Get. In.
Hello, hello, hello and welcome everybody to my formerly thrice-weekly blog which now appears to be my once-in-a-blue-moon-but-more-commonly-on-a-Friday blog.
So anyway, this week has been rather non-eventful. I mean there's really not been much to report of anything, it's all work and very little play. I've also gone back on the wagon and sobriety really isn't the most cheerful of mindsets for anyone, especially when you can't even substitute it for doughnuts or chocolate cake.
I hadn't really given a great deal of thought to the diet, particularly, and in fact, as my weight loss has been so hit and miss over the last ten weeks or so, I was quite convinced that if anything I'd've put weight on this week. Especially when I realised that I've not been eating nearly so much veg as I should be eating. "Oh well," I thought to myself, "There's always next week, I'll try harder then! I've still got another six weeks to lose a dress size, no big deal."
Imagine, then, my surprise when the scales declared that I'd lost 3 1/2 lbs!!
The llamas were chuffed. They're all ready to go with this week's fiesta, so without any further ado - hit it, lads!!
Whew! That was great, boys!! Just the job!
I was delighted with that result. I honestly didn't expect it. I thought my weeks of losing big numbers of lbs were long gone, and that it'd be a slow and boring, pleasure-free road to box off my last three stone, half a pound here, a pound there... I thought it'd take me The Rest Of My Rotten Stinkin' Life to do it. But now - now there is hope! Now there is a little bright, cheery spark in my heart that says, "Come on, Spevvo, you can do this!! You're probably not really too far now and you'll be legitimately skinny rather than just relatively skinny in comparison to your former spherical physique!"
I mean I have to do it and I have to do it soon. The time left is reduced. I've done all right so far, like, and aside from just not stressing about things and following the plan as best as I can, I'm not 100% sure what else I can do. More fruit, more veg, I don't know if I've ever recommended green tea and a slice of lemon, but trust me, it works. It's an acquired taste but it's a taste well worth acquiring. It'll all come off eventually. I'll soon be svelte. I'll achieve voluptuous rather than rotund. I'll wiggle in all the right places. This will happen. Because if it doesn't, I think I'll cry. Which won't be a remotely helpful reaction and it won't even make me feel better about it but it's the one thing slightly more positive than jumping off a tall building.
The thing that cheered me up the most was that finally, Andrea the Consultant told me that I was really doing well. She said "You're disappearing before my very eyes! You must feel great!!" I genuinely didn't think she'd noticed. A couple of the ladies in group have come up to me and been like "Good grief, you can really tell you've lost weight, you're looking good!" which is really nice, but it was great to finally get a bit of a high five from the lady in charge. She's never been discouraging or dismissive, I'd like to make that clear, but I just genuinely didn't think she'd noticed, and that because she hadn't said anything I mustn't actually look like I've lost any weight. Which obviously is a stupidly warped thought process, I mean for chuff's sake I've lost 60lbs now, I must literally be the only person on earth who hasn't really noticed the difference in me!! In fairness, I avoid reflective surfaces like the plague and whenever I look down at myself all I can see are my bosoms and my hair so I suppose the fact they're still very much there isn't too much of an indicator about how well I've actually done.
So, I went home and had a yummy Slimming World tea of sirloin steak, new potatoes, and fried mushrooms and tomatoes. It was fabulous. My sister is officially the best cook in the world.
This weekend I'm going to a party on Saturday, which will be great. I'm still on the wagon and I'm the designated driver so I'm going to have to do the Being Sober While Meeting New People thing, which is a little worrying, but the people I do know who are going are fabulous so I'm sure it'll all be great. The only problem is that nowadays I only have clothes for work and clothes for the Kingdom Hall. I have no other items of clothing, and as I'm an anti-social sod, I definitely have no party clothes. I'll probably end up going and looking really overdressed. But at least I won't be scruffy!!
Join me sometime next week. Definitely on Friday, when hopefully I'll be even closer to my 4 1/2 stone shiny sticker!!
So anyway, this week has been rather non-eventful. I mean there's really not been much to report of anything, it's all work and very little play. I've also gone back on the wagon and sobriety really isn't the most cheerful of mindsets for anyone, especially when you can't even substitute it for doughnuts or chocolate cake.
I hadn't really given a great deal of thought to the diet, particularly, and in fact, as my weight loss has been so hit and miss over the last ten weeks or so, I was quite convinced that if anything I'd've put weight on this week. Especially when I realised that I've not been eating nearly so much veg as I should be eating. "Oh well," I thought to myself, "There's always next week, I'll try harder then! I've still got another six weeks to lose a dress size, no big deal."
Imagine, then, my surprise when the scales declared that I'd lost 3 1/2 lbs!!
The llamas were chuffed. They're all ready to go with this week's fiesta, so without any further ado - hit it, lads!!
***AAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIBAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!***
¯ La cucaracha, la cucaracha, dah dee dah de dah de dahh...! ¯
Whew! That was great, boys!! Just the job!
I was delighted with that result. I honestly didn't expect it. I thought my weeks of losing big numbers of lbs were long gone, and that it'd be a slow and boring, pleasure-free road to box off my last three stone, half a pound here, a pound there... I thought it'd take me The Rest Of My Rotten Stinkin' Life to do it. But now - now there is hope! Now there is a little bright, cheery spark in my heart that says, "Come on, Spevvo, you can do this!! You're probably not really too far now and you'll be legitimately skinny rather than just relatively skinny in comparison to your former spherical physique!"
I mean I have to do it and I have to do it soon. The time left is reduced. I've done all right so far, like, and aside from just not stressing about things and following the plan as best as I can, I'm not 100% sure what else I can do. More fruit, more veg, I don't know if I've ever recommended green tea and a slice of lemon, but trust me, it works. It's an acquired taste but it's a taste well worth acquiring. It'll all come off eventually. I'll soon be svelte. I'll achieve voluptuous rather than rotund. I'll wiggle in all the right places. This will happen. Because if it doesn't, I think I'll cry. Which won't be a remotely helpful reaction and it won't even make me feel better about it but it's the one thing slightly more positive than jumping off a tall building.
The thing that cheered me up the most was that finally, Andrea the Consultant told me that I was really doing well. She said "You're disappearing before my very eyes! You must feel great!!" I genuinely didn't think she'd noticed. A couple of the ladies in group have come up to me and been like "Good grief, you can really tell you've lost weight, you're looking good!" which is really nice, but it was great to finally get a bit of a high five from the lady in charge. She's never been discouraging or dismissive, I'd like to make that clear, but I just genuinely didn't think she'd noticed, and that because she hadn't said anything I mustn't actually look like I've lost any weight. Which obviously is a stupidly warped thought process, I mean for chuff's sake I've lost 60lbs now, I must literally be the only person on earth who hasn't really noticed the difference in me!! In fairness, I avoid reflective surfaces like the plague and whenever I look down at myself all I can see are my bosoms and my hair so I suppose the fact they're still very much there isn't too much of an indicator about how well I've actually done.
So, I went home and had a yummy Slimming World tea of sirloin steak, new potatoes, and fried mushrooms and tomatoes. It was fabulous. My sister is officially the best cook in the world.
This weekend I'm going to a party on Saturday, which will be great. I'm still on the wagon and I'm the designated driver so I'm going to have to do the Being Sober While Meeting New People thing, which is a little worrying, but the people I do know who are going are fabulous so I'm sure it'll all be great. The only problem is that nowadays I only have clothes for work and clothes for the Kingdom Hall. I have no other items of clothing, and as I'm an anti-social sod, I definitely have no party clothes. I'll probably end up going and looking really overdressed. But at least I won't be scruffy!!
Join me sometime next week. Definitely on Friday, when hopefully I'll be even closer to my 4 1/2 stone shiny sticker!!
Tuesday, 7 August 2012
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!!
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!!
Monday, 23 July 2012
Starting All Over Again
I know it's been ages, but I've really had very little indeed to report on the weight loss front.
Although...
On July 5th (exactly 6 months after I first stepped on the scales) I managed to hit my half-way target of 3 1/2 stones. In fact I got just over my half way point, and all I needed was to lose another 5lbs in 5 weeks in order to hit my 4 stone mark. Then the boredom set in. And when it set, it stuck good and proper.
I don't know why, when I'd worked so hard over the last six months, I suddenly decided it would be a fabulous idea to go completely off the rails because I couldn't be bothered keeping on the straight and narrow. Yes, because getting halfway there totally means you're allowed to give yourself a week or two off, just because you 'can't be bothered'!!
No, actually, I shouldn't be allowed to give myself two weeks off 'just because' yet. I've not done anything yet. Halfway does not count. I've been here before. I've been halfway, and I've always fallen into this trap and the weight has piled straight back on and I'm back to where I was before I know it. I haven't done anything to congratulate myself for yet. I'm not taking away from the fact that it's been a long hard slog to get this far. And I know that losing over 3 1/2 stones in six months is an achievement, and I'm not really detracting from that. But it isn't the target. It isn't where I want to be.
You don't see people training for marathons giving themselves a few weeks off from training after they finally manage to run for thirteen miles solid, do you? Exactly. I haven't made it yet, I've got no reason to start messing around and giving myself lame excuses to fall off the wagon. So what if I've had a tough day at work? That doesn't instantly mean that I have to have a few large glasses of something interesting. It's not going to make my tough day any less tough. It's just a bunch of extra Syns that I don't actually need and that will only serve to make me feel guilty for a lapse in motivation.
Perhaps, and the thought did occur to me earlier last week, I've really never known myself this size. It feels weird. I look in the mirror now and I only see two chins, rather than 50. I saw my collar bone when I looked in the mirror the other week. It was just, y'know, there. I genuinely panicked for a few moments and thought there was a tumour growing below my neck, until I realised what it was!! My shoulders have gone skinny. My cheekbones are huge. I don't look like me any more.
Being smaller than I already am, although I want it desperately, will seem so weird. Being 'big' is very much an intrinsic part of how I see myself and what I think I am. If I haven't got that instant, bizarrely comforting, self-deprecating joke of me being fat to hide behind, then I'm not really sure what I have got. Perhaps my firm thwack on the 'self-destruct' button last week was because I'm actually really scared of the physical aspects of being smaller. I already hate the attention. And no, no I haven't had any attention from blokes, they still have no idea I exist - but getting told, "Wow, you look great!" and "Oh my god, look at you!!" or "I can't believe how amazing/stunning/beautiful/fabulous you look!" (and seriously - words like 'stunning' and 'beautiful' should never be associated with me) and all that sort of thing... don't get me wrong, it's lovely, I really appreciate how supportive everyone is - and it's a lot nicer than "Holy hell, look at that fat bitch!" which I haven't actually heard for a while now. But to be truthful, I don't feel like I deserve it and it really makes me uncomfortable. I don't really want to be looked at. I thought that's what being smaller would help me achieve - a nice little degree of invisibility.
Still. That's still no reason to go completely off track. I've got things to do. I've got clothes to fit into. I've got a Michael Nesmith gig to go to at the end of October!! So I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself, I'm going to stop being scared and I'm going to get the hell on with it.
In the wise words of Tony DiNozzo from NCIS - "If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got." In the equally wise words of Stanley Holloway - "You can't jump with one foot on the floor." Basically, this week, I need to get my finger out and make damn sure I don't completely put the last six months to waste.
Four stone mark - I am going to own you...!!
Although...
On July 5th (exactly 6 months after I first stepped on the scales) I managed to hit my half-way target of 3 1/2 stones. In fact I got just over my half way point, and all I needed was to lose another 5lbs in 5 weeks in order to hit my 4 stone mark. Then the boredom set in. And when it set, it stuck good and proper.
I don't know why, when I'd worked so hard over the last six months, I suddenly decided it would be a fabulous idea to go completely off the rails because I couldn't be bothered keeping on the straight and narrow. Yes, because getting halfway there totally means you're allowed to give yourself a week or two off, just because you 'can't be bothered'!!
No, actually, I shouldn't be allowed to give myself two weeks off 'just because' yet. I've not done anything yet. Halfway does not count. I've been here before. I've been halfway, and I've always fallen into this trap and the weight has piled straight back on and I'm back to where I was before I know it. I haven't done anything to congratulate myself for yet. I'm not taking away from the fact that it's been a long hard slog to get this far. And I know that losing over 3 1/2 stones in six months is an achievement, and I'm not really detracting from that. But it isn't the target. It isn't where I want to be.
You don't see people training for marathons giving themselves a few weeks off from training after they finally manage to run for thirteen miles solid, do you? Exactly. I haven't made it yet, I've got no reason to start messing around and giving myself lame excuses to fall off the wagon. So what if I've had a tough day at work? That doesn't instantly mean that I have to have a few large glasses of something interesting. It's not going to make my tough day any less tough. It's just a bunch of extra Syns that I don't actually need and that will only serve to make me feel guilty for a lapse in motivation.
Perhaps, and the thought did occur to me earlier last week, I've really never known myself this size. It feels weird. I look in the mirror now and I only see two chins, rather than 50. I saw my collar bone when I looked in the mirror the other week. It was just, y'know, there. I genuinely panicked for a few moments and thought there was a tumour growing below my neck, until I realised what it was!! My shoulders have gone skinny. My cheekbones are huge. I don't look like me any more.
Being smaller than I already am, although I want it desperately, will seem so weird. Being 'big' is very much an intrinsic part of how I see myself and what I think I am. If I haven't got that instant, bizarrely comforting, self-deprecating joke of me being fat to hide behind, then I'm not really sure what I have got. Perhaps my firm thwack on the 'self-destruct' button last week was because I'm actually really scared of the physical aspects of being smaller. I already hate the attention. And no, no I haven't had any attention from blokes, they still have no idea I exist - but getting told, "Wow, you look great!" and "Oh my god, look at you!!" or "I can't believe how amazing/stunning/beautiful/fabulous you look!" (and seriously - words like 'stunning' and 'beautiful' should never be associated with me) and all that sort of thing... don't get me wrong, it's lovely, I really appreciate how supportive everyone is - and it's a lot nicer than "Holy hell, look at that fat bitch!" which I haven't actually heard for a while now. But to be truthful, I don't feel like I deserve it and it really makes me uncomfortable. I don't really want to be looked at. I thought that's what being smaller would help me achieve - a nice little degree of invisibility.
Still. That's still no reason to go completely off track. I've got things to do. I've got clothes to fit into. I've got a Michael Nesmith gig to go to at the end of October!! So I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself, I'm going to stop being scared and I'm going to get the hell on with it.
In the wise words of Tony DiNozzo from NCIS - "If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got." In the equally wise words of Stanley Holloway - "You can't jump with one foot on the floor." Basically, this week, I need to get my finger out and make damn sure I don't completely put the last six months to waste.
Four stone mark - I am going to own you...!!
Wednesday, 20 June 2012
Dude, I Feel So Gnarly
I'm pretty sure only one person on earth will get that particular reference.
My apologies for a lack of update on Monday. I've been poorly. I've felt, well... gnarly. Just unnaturally exhausted, all the time. And dizzy. So flippin' dizzy. Kind of like I'm coming down with something but nothing's actually happening. You know those really annoying vague illnesses that make you feel like all hell but you can't exactly say what's wrong with you. So tired my fingertips hurt, frequently dizzy and nauseous, weird headaches that feel like my head's trapped in a vice... and I feel a right numpty going to the doctors and saying "I feel lousy, what the chuff's up with me?!"
Nevertheless, I did. Two days off work and I still felt rubbish. There was nothing else for it. Understandably, the doc was as stumped as I was and sent me for blood tests just to make sure my body isn't being taken over by aliens (because that's guaranteed to make anyone feel under the weather) or anything.
I've dragged myself back into work today and typically I feel even worse today than I did yesterday and Monday combined. What's a girl to do? If my boss provided sick pay I'd have taken the week off and actually managed to get some proper rest. Never mind. I'll live. I don't think it's possible to actually die of tiredness. Although if I'm wrong I want Fire by the Crazy World of Arthur Brown to be played at my cremation...
My plan this week is to lose 1 1/2 lbs. I dunno if I'll do it because, due to the fact I've felt like someone's pulled the plug out on me and replaced all my limbs with lead-lined cement blocks, I've been rather sedentary the last couple of days. Still, I've been pretty good on the lack of Synning front. I've been drinking heaps more water than usual and eaten loads of fruit and stuff. So I should be okay. I mean 1 1/2 lbs isn't exactly attempting to reach the unreachable. I mean if I'm being mammothly aspirational I'd like to have lost 8 1/2 lbs by my weigh in on July 5th, which will be my six-monthiversary of starting Slimming World and it will be great to say I've lost 4 stone in six months. But if it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen, I'll lose it eventually. I've got just over 4 months before I go to see Michael Nesmith in concert and I should be almost there by then. At least, I hope so.
Join me again on Friday when I'll bring you all the gossip from Slimming World, including how mum got on during her first week and hopefully news that I've reached my half-way point at last. The llamas should be on fine form. Miguel is still tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle, groaning slightly every now and again for effect, but Ricardo's friend Diego said that he'd happily stand in this week while Miguel's recouperating. I just hope Enrique can teach him the dance routine in time...!!
My apologies for a lack of update on Monday. I've been poorly. I've felt, well... gnarly. Just unnaturally exhausted, all the time. And dizzy. So flippin' dizzy. Kind of like I'm coming down with something but nothing's actually happening. You know those really annoying vague illnesses that make you feel like all hell but you can't exactly say what's wrong with you. So tired my fingertips hurt, frequently dizzy and nauseous, weird headaches that feel like my head's trapped in a vice... and I feel a right numpty going to the doctors and saying "I feel lousy, what the chuff's up with me?!"
Nevertheless, I did. Two days off work and I still felt rubbish. There was nothing else for it. Understandably, the doc was as stumped as I was and sent me for blood tests just to make sure my body isn't being taken over by aliens (because that's guaranteed to make anyone feel under the weather) or anything.
I've dragged myself back into work today and typically I feel even worse today than I did yesterday and Monday combined. What's a girl to do? If my boss provided sick pay I'd have taken the week off and actually managed to get some proper rest. Never mind. I'll live. I don't think it's possible to actually die of tiredness. Although if I'm wrong I want Fire by the Crazy World of Arthur Brown to be played at my cremation...
My plan this week is to lose 1 1/2 lbs. I dunno if I'll do it because, due to the fact I've felt like someone's pulled the plug out on me and replaced all my limbs with lead-lined cement blocks, I've been rather sedentary the last couple of days. Still, I've been pretty good on the lack of Synning front. I've been drinking heaps more water than usual and eaten loads of fruit and stuff. So I should be okay. I mean 1 1/2 lbs isn't exactly attempting to reach the unreachable. I mean if I'm being mammothly aspirational I'd like to have lost 8 1/2 lbs by my weigh in on July 5th, which will be my six-monthiversary of starting Slimming World and it will be great to say I've lost 4 stone in six months. But if it doesn't happen, it doesn't happen, I'll lose it eventually. I've got just over 4 months before I go to see Michael Nesmith in concert and I should be almost there by then. At least, I hope so.
Join me again on Friday when I'll bring you all the gossip from Slimming World, including how mum got on during her first week and hopefully news that I've reached my half-way point at last. The llamas should be on fine form. Miguel is still tucked up in bed with a hot water bottle, groaning slightly every now and again for effect, but Ricardo's friend Diego said that he'd happily stand in this week while Miguel's recouperating. I just hope Enrique can teach him the dance routine in time...!!
Wednesday, 6 June 2012
The Blog Entry With No Name
It's all right, I didn't kill myself on Sunday as envisaged. I hit the 29 mark, I survived, I made it through, I'm going to continue with living for a little while longer. After all, I've lost three stone, it'd be a shame to waste it. I'll just have to be old and deal with it like normal people.
To combat the ageing blues, I've started a new (not 'new', exactly, more 'revisited' as I've loved this actor for years anyway) and more than likely short-lived cinematic obsession, it'll probably only last a few weeks. I can't even remember how many Stewart Granger films I've watched over the last three days. At least six. I've had a jolly good time doing it, too!! Did you know - and I certainly didn't, but I love him even more now I do know - his real name is James Stewart, but he had to change his name (he chose a mixture of his surname and his mum's maiden name) to stop him being mixed up with... well... James Stewart, aka my absolute favourite actor of all time! I mean, there is a resemblence, I suppose, they're both tall and a bit gormless-looking!! Good ol' Granger - he's like the David Bowie of cinema, but without heterochromia!! Scaramouche. Get it watched. It's a classic.
I went to a party on Friday night and I wore a dress that I bought from a high street shop. That's right. I walked into Dorothy Perkins. I saw a red dress (it's a constant source of disappointment to my Dad that, although I've been raised a true Evertonian, I love wearing red!). I thought "Oooh, that's pretty!" I saw it was very reasonably priced. I bought it. I tried it on. IT. FITTED. PERFECTLY. Seriously. It's such an achievement I really can't describe how chuffed I was. I might've still looked a mess, but at least I know that I can buy nice clothes on the high street now. I still have a long way to go, I know I do - but it was such a great feeling to go out in public wearing clothing that wasn't from the plus-size range!!
However, having said all that - I've decided to have a week off the diet. Not a going mad and turning into Miss Pacman type week off, but just a week off. It all started on Saturday. My lovely friend Clayre-Louyse and her husband, Adam, have moved near me. This is brilliant. Clayre and I have been friends for about eight years but we've always lived miles and miles away from each other - now she lives a ten minute walk away!! Hooraaayyy!! Anyway, I'd been in work all morning, then gone grocery shopping straight from work and by the time I got to Clayre's at half three, I hadn't eaten anything. I brought her a packet of biscuits (they always help with unpacking), really nice chocolatey ones, and she offered me one with my brew. Normally I'd've said no and been strong, but I hadn't eaten anything all day and I hadn't had a biscuit all year, so I accepted. I instantly thought "Gah, that's it now..." and decided to have a day off. In fact, I had a monumental day off. I went to the pub with my sister, had burger and chips and a pint of beer, followed by a chocolate ice-cream sundae, which had huge chunks of brownies in - and the brownies were still warm!! Oh my goodness! It was indescribably incredible!!
I really haven't had a huge day off like that yet, so I didn't feel too bad. But bank holidays are funny things, and I haven't been able to reign it back in as normal. I've not been spectacularly naughty, I've just not been nearly so strict with myself. So I'm not going to weigh-in tomorrow. A week off won't kill me. I'm still going to get there eventually. It feels like I've taken a bit of pressure off myself, which has to be a good thing. I'll get back on it properly and with a vengeance in the next day or so, I promise. I'm even strongly toying with the idea of joining a gym. Yes, you read that right. A gym. Cross-trainers, rowing machines, all that type of thing. A real live gym!
For those of you who are huge fans of the llamas - fear not! They will be out in fine style on Friday anyway, dancing away like things possessed, as I will be dedicating Friday's blog to a review of Nathan's album, which I received on Saturday morning. I'll tell you all about it then!!
To combat the ageing blues, I've started a new (not 'new', exactly, more 'revisited' as I've loved this actor for years anyway) and more than likely short-lived cinematic obsession, it'll probably only last a few weeks. I can't even remember how many Stewart Granger films I've watched over the last three days. At least six. I've had a jolly good time doing it, too!! Did you know - and I certainly didn't, but I love him even more now I do know - his real name is James Stewart, but he had to change his name (he chose a mixture of his surname and his mum's maiden name) to stop him being mixed up with... well... James Stewart, aka my absolute favourite actor of all time! I mean, there is a resemblence, I suppose, they're both tall and a bit gormless-looking!! Good ol' Granger - he's like the David Bowie of cinema, but without heterochromia!! Scaramouche. Get it watched. It's a classic.
I went to a party on Friday night and I wore a dress that I bought from a high street shop. That's right. I walked into Dorothy Perkins. I saw a red dress (it's a constant source of disappointment to my Dad that, although I've been raised a true Evertonian, I love wearing red!). I thought "Oooh, that's pretty!" I saw it was very reasonably priced. I bought it. I tried it on. IT. FITTED. PERFECTLY. Seriously. It's such an achievement I really can't describe how chuffed I was. I might've still looked a mess, but at least I know that I can buy nice clothes on the high street now. I still have a long way to go, I know I do - but it was such a great feeling to go out in public wearing clothing that wasn't from the plus-size range!!
However, having said all that - I've decided to have a week off the diet. Not a going mad and turning into Miss Pacman type week off, but just a week off. It all started on Saturday. My lovely friend Clayre-Louyse and her husband, Adam, have moved near me. This is brilliant. Clayre and I have been friends for about eight years but we've always lived miles and miles away from each other - now she lives a ten minute walk away!! Hooraaayyy!! Anyway, I'd been in work all morning, then gone grocery shopping straight from work and by the time I got to Clayre's at half three, I hadn't eaten anything. I brought her a packet of biscuits (they always help with unpacking), really nice chocolatey ones, and she offered me one with my brew. Normally I'd've said no and been strong, but I hadn't eaten anything all day and I hadn't had a biscuit all year, so I accepted. I instantly thought "Gah, that's it now..." and decided to have a day off. In fact, I had a monumental day off. I went to the pub with my sister, had burger and chips and a pint of beer, followed by a chocolate ice-cream sundae, which had huge chunks of brownies in - and the brownies were still warm!! Oh my goodness! It was indescribably incredible!!
I really haven't had a huge day off like that yet, so I didn't feel too bad. But bank holidays are funny things, and I haven't been able to reign it back in as normal. I've not been spectacularly naughty, I've just not been nearly so strict with myself. So I'm not going to weigh-in tomorrow. A week off won't kill me. I'm still going to get there eventually. It feels like I've taken a bit of pressure off myself, which has to be a good thing. I'll get back on it properly and with a vengeance in the next day or so, I promise. I'm even strongly toying with the idea of joining a gym. Yes, you read that right. A gym. Cross-trainers, rowing machines, all that type of thing. A real live gym!
For those of you who are huge fans of the llamas - fear not! They will be out in fine style on Friday anyway, dancing away like things possessed, as I will be dedicating Friday's blog to a review of Nathan's album, which I received on Saturday morning. I'll tell you all about it then!!
Friday, 1 June 2012
Land of Confusion
Ah, it's Friday! It means most of us in dear old Blighty will be looking forward to four whole days off work - with pay! However, it turns out I've got to work tomorrow, so I'll have three whole days off work, which is almost as good. And the weather has sorted itself out just in time for an epic bank holiday. Yes, that's right - gone are the sizzling tropical temperatures, the humid air, the old men traipsing round town just wearing a little pair of shorts and socks with sandals (why oh why?!) and the threat of a nice barbecue in the back garden. The air has regained the usual summertime nippiness we're used to, the skies are a sort of charcoal grey colour and the weather has been, as they call it in Spain (Joanna reliably tells me this, and she's very good at Spanish, so she should know) "El Pissi Downio". Ah, yes. British Summertime. It's back, and I love it.
So, things are going very well. I'd like to thank Anonymous for their lovely and very encouraging comment from Wednesday's blog. It turns out that my block lifted quite substantially after that lovely advice and some equally kind and helpful tips from Mr L. Although I've still not really got a plot together yet, I have indeed made a start on the Western (tentatively entitled The Western With No Name). Turns out it had no intention of ever being a book, it wanted to be a screenplay all along. Which in some ways is slightly easier, I'm much better with dialogue than narrative, but even though you only really need minimal narrative for a screenplay I still don't think I have enough. But I'll come back to it later when I've figured out more of a structure to the story. My biggest problem is that I want it to be instantly perfect, rather than just acknowledging that the first three or four rewrites are going to be ropey at best before I get it close to being right and writing it anyway. I bet Joss Whedon didn't write The Avengers perfectly on his first run-through!!
I know what you're thinking. 'She's avoiding the weight-loss topic'. Well, yes. I am.
I put half a pound on. I have no idea how. I was doing really well, I'd been dead good, I hadn't cheated (there's no point in cheating because the only person who suffers is me) - I was at least hoping for a couple of pounds' loss. Maybe even three. But putting half a pound on?! What the -?!?!!
Baffled. Stumped. Bamboozled. Flabbergasted. Discombobulated. Narked. All appropriate adjectives to describe my reaction to the number on the scales yesterday.
Enrique was quite relieved I'd put weight on. He's still convinced he has athlete's hoof from when I sent them swimming last Friday and has taken to his bed with bandages from hoof to fetlock on all four of his little legs. The rest of the llamas were delighted to have another week off and have all gone on a coach holiday to Blackpool for the weekend. If you're in the Blackpool area and come across a collective of llamas in gold lamee leg warmers, go and join them, they're a great bunch of lads!!
I mean, things aren't all bad news. I'm getting smaller. If I'm honest with myself about my original starting size (i.e. Beyond Huge. If there was a dress size that could be renamed "AY CHIHUAHA!!" that'd probably be where I was!), I've actually lost three dress sizes already and I'm probably only another stone away from hitting the fourth. So actually I've not done at all badly. It's just one of those things. Maybe it was just the way I held my gob when I stood on the scales. Who knows. I'm lots thinner than I was, and that's a fact. I just need to be... you know. Thinner than this. And I will be. This time in three months I might've lost another two sizes and then I'll be very nearly almost there.
You know what it'll involve, of course. I've been threatening it and then putting it off since January, but I am actually going to have to... I can't even bring myself to say it. You know, though. And I know. It's got to be done, there's truly nothing else for it. I have plans and extremely good intentions, I just have no willpower!! I hate running, walking round an industrial estate is no fun, and I'm just not disciplined enough to attempt any form of E***cise at home!! Gah!! That blasted E word. Why is it never fun?! If I could do the E word and not notice I was doing it, that'd be brilliant!
Ho hum.
Join me next Wednesday, if you don't mind. I'll be taking Monday off due to the Bank Holiday and I'll probably still be in a very dark state of depression following my birthday on Sunday. I get SO depressed on my birthday, there's literally no point in even acknowledging my existence, you'll only end up similarly suicidal! I don't want to be old! Don't make me!! Nooooo!!! PETER PAN NEVER HAD TO DO IT!!!
I dread to even think how I'll cope next year when I hit the big Three-Oh...!! *shudder*
So, things are going very well. I'd like to thank Anonymous for their lovely and very encouraging comment from Wednesday's blog. It turns out that my block lifted quite substantially after that lovely advice and some equally kind and helpful tips from Mr L. Although I've still not really got a plot together yet, I have indeed made a start on the Western (tentatively entitled The Western With No Name). Turns out it had no intention of ever being a book, it wanted to be a screenplay all along. Which in some ways is slightly easier, I'm much better with dialogue than narrative, but even though you only really need minimal narrative for a screenplay I still don't think I have enough. But I'll come back to it later when I've figured out more of a structure to the story. My biggest problem is that I want it to be instantly perfect, rather than just acknowledging that the first three or four rewrites are going to be ropey at best before I get it close to being right and writing it anyway. I bet Joss Whedon didn't write The Avengers perfectly on his first run-through!!
I know what you're thinking. 'She's avoiding the weight-loss topic'. Well, yes. I am.
I put half a pound on. I have no idea how. I was doing really well, I'd been dead good, I hadn't cheated (there's no point in cheating because the only person who suffers is me) - I was at least hoping for a couple of pounds' loss. Maybe even three. But putting half a pound on?! What the -?!?!!
Baffled. Stumped. Bamboozled. Flabbergasted. Discombobulated. Narked. All appropriate adjectives to describe my reaction to the number on the scales yesterday.
Enrique was quite relieved I'd put weight on. He's still convinced he has athlete's hoof from when I sent them swimming last Friday and has taken to his bed with bandages from hoof to fetlock on all four of his little legs. The rest of the llamas were delighted to have another week off and have all gone on a coach holiday to Blackpool for the weekend. If you're in the Blackpool area and come across a collective of llamas in gold lamee leg warmers, go and join them, they're a great bunch of lads!!
I mean, things aren't all bad news. I'm getting smaller. If I'm honest with myself about my original starting size (i.e. Beyond Huge. If there was a dress size that could be renamed "AY CHIHUAHA!!" that'd probably be where I was!), I've actually lost three dress sizes already and I'm probably only another stone away from hitting the fourth. So actually I've not done at all badly. It's just one of those things. Maybe it was just the way I held my gob when I stood on the scales. Who knows. I'm lots thinner than I was, and that's a fact. I just need to be... you know. Thinner than this. And I will be. This time in three months I might've lost another two sizes and then I'll be very nearly almost there.
You know what it'll involve, of course. I've been threatening it and then putting it off since January, but I am actually going to have to... I can't even bring myself to say it. You know, though. And I know. It's got to be done, there's truly nothing else for it. I have plans and extremely good intentions, I just have no willpower!! I hate running, walking round an industrial estate is no fun, and I'm just not disciplined enough to attempt any form of E***cise at home!! Gah!! That blasted E word. Why is it never fun?! If I could do the E word and not notice I was doing it, that'd be brilliant!
Ho hum.
Join me next Wednesday, if you don't mind. I'll be taking Monday off due to the Bank Holiday and I'll probably still be in a very dark state of depression following my birthday on Sunday. I get SO depressed on my birthday, there's literally no point in even acknowledging my existence, you'll only end up similarly suicidal! I don't want to be old! Don't make me!! Nooooo!!! PETER PAN NEVER HAD TO DO IT!!!
I dread to even think how I'll cope next year when I hit the big Three-Oh...!! *shudder*
Monday, 28 May 2012
We're Havin' A Heatwave...
...a tropical heatwaaaave... the temperature's risin', it isn't surprisin', I certainly caaaannn...
Ahem.
Sorry. But this weather's making everything seem a bit weird. Good GRIEF it's warm. I mean, 28 degrees Celsius before noon is just ridiculous. And no, I have no idea what that is in Farenheit!!
I'm sorry for my lack of postings. It's been one of those weeks. It's been too hot for anything and my brain really doesn't function too well in hot weather. I am, after all, English. I'm not used to May being hot. It isn't meant to get hot until mid-June for about five days, then constant rain until mid-July, then miserable but hot weather with no air for three or four weeks, then more rain... then a sort of picking up again in September, before a rather nippy Autumn and a bloomin' freezing winter. This is how Britain works, weather! Get it right!!
So, anyway, weather aside, I got a little closer to my halfway mark this week by losing 2lbs. This was a lovely result and I was really pleased with it, but due to the weather it would've simply been cruel of me to ask the llamas to put on a fiesta in celebration. So I sent them to the local swimming pool armed with armbands, goggles and matching towels for a bit of a frolic and a cool down. Enrique convinced himself that he came back home with verrucas and athletes hoof, but after a (very brief) examination his hooves all seem fine. Ricardo made friends with the lifeguard on duty who had never heard of a dancing troupe of llamas before. Miguel discovered aqua-aerobics. Everyone had a lovely time. I stayed in (I can't swim and nobody will ever see me in a swimming costume, ever, not even when I get to a size 14! Just because I'm not fat still doesn't mean anyone wants to see any more of me than is absolutely necessary and unavoidable!) and had a celebratory brandy or two. It might've even ben three. Yes, I think it was. So, everyone really was happy!
I probably won't hit my halfway target by this Thursday, but that's no big deal really. It's officially too hot to care about stuff like that! I should get closer to it, though, and that's the main thing.
I wore a dress on Sunday. I admit it probably wasn't the most fashionable thing out there, but the main thing was it wasn't that godawful black maxi dress I'd worn for months when I had need to wear a dress. It was my mum's, and before you start rolling your eyes, I'd coveted it for quite some time, it's really nice. I tell you a really weird thing that I may never get used to. I actually felt really feminine. I mean I know I'm a girl (the bosoms are quite a giveaway), but being of the larger persuasion the only clothes really available to a person are ones that just cover you and make you look as unobtrusive as possible. In short, clothes have never made me feel anything other than a sexless blob of nothingness. But on Sunday I looked in the mirror and even though I probably still looked a fat scruffbag, I actually felt like a woman for the first time actually ever. With curves, as opposed to being one continual curve. It's a really peculiar feeling, but I liked it. Probably one I'll never get used to, but it's really helped me to feel even more focussed than ever about getting to the goal. It's totally going to happen. This time next year during an unprecedented heatwave I might even have summer clothes in my wardrobe to go to!! Who knows!!!
Join me again on... well, I'd say Wednesday. Hopefully Wednesday, but certainly later on in the week. Dunno what I'll talk about but I'll always find SOMEthing to ramble about!!
Ahem.
Sorry. But this weather's making everything seem a bit weird. Good GRIEF it's warm. I mean, 28 degrees Celsius before noon is just ridiculous. And no, I have no idea what that is in Farenheit!!
I'm sorry for my lack of postings. It's been one of those weeks. It's been too hot for anything and my brain really doesn't function too well in hot weather. I am, after all, English. I'm not used to May being hot. It isn't meant to get hot until mid-June for about five days, then constant rain until mid-July, then miserable but hot weather with no air for three or four weeks, then more rain... then a sort of picking up again in September, before a rather nippy Autumn and a bloomin' freezing winter. This is how Britain works, weather! Get it right!!
So, anyway, weather aside, I got a little closer to my halfway mark this week by losing 2lbs. This was a lovely result and I was really pleased with it, but due to the weather it would've simply been cruel of me to ask the llamas to put on a fiesta in celebration. So I sent them to the local swimming pool armed with armbands, goggles and matching towels for a bit of a frolic and a cool down. Enrique convinced himself that he came back home with verrucas and athletes hoof, but after a (very brief) examination his hooves all seem fine. Ricardo made friends with the lifeguard on duty who had never heard of a dancing troupe of llamas before. Miguel discovered aqua-aerobics. Everyone had a lovely time. I stayed in (I can't swim and nobody will ever see me in a swimming costume, ever, not even when I get to a size 14! Just because I'm not fat still doesn't mean anyone wants to see any more of me than is absolutely necessary and unavoidable!) and had a celebratory brandy or two. It might've even ben three. Yes, I think it was. So, everyone really was happy!
I probably won't hit my halfway target by this Thursday, but that's no big deal really. It's officially too hot to care about stuff like that! I should get closer to it, though, and that's the main thing.
I wore a dress on Sunday. I admit it probably wasn't the most fashionable thing out there, but the main thing was it wasn't that godawful black maxi dress I'd worn for months when I had need to wear a dress. It was my mum's, and before you start rolling your eyes, I'd coveted it for quite some time, it's really nice. I tell you a really weird thing that I may never get used to. I actually felt really feminine. I mean I know I'm a girl (the bosoms are quite a giveaway), but being of the larger persuasion the only clothes really available to a person are ones that just cover you and make you look as unobtrusive as possible. In short, clothes have never made me feel anything other than a sexless blob of nothingness. But on Sunday I looked in the mirror and even though I probably still looked a fat scruffbag, I actually felt like a woman for the first time actually ever. With curves, as opposed to being one continual curve. It's a really peculiar feeling, but I liked it. Probably one I'll never get used to, but it's really helped me to feel even more focussed than ever about getting to the goal. It's totally going to happen. This time next year during an unprecedented heatwave I might even have summer clothes in my wardrobe to go to!! Who knows!!!
Join me again on... well, I'd say Wednesday. Hopefully Wednesday, but certainly later on in the week. Dunno what I'll talk about but I'll always find SOMEthing to ramble about!!
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
Clothes Horse
This is it, folks. This is what 'back on track' looks like. A Wednesday blog and being on course for a three-post week. I'm on fire! Not literally, don't worry.
I've got back onto the green tea, I've started eating more fruit and I've kept myself to below 10 Syns per day. If I don't see at least some improvement by Friday I'll throw the blasted new scales out the window - don't try and stop me!! I may be skinnier now but I've still got the strength of a girl nearly three stone heavier than me...!! Grr!
I sort of feel like I've been a bit of an in-between size for the last couple of months. I reckon I've got about another stone to lose before I get back into my old clothes. There are two items of clothing that I'm desperate to be able to wear again - a black pinstripe shirt dress and a dogtooth skirt suit, both of which are a size 18. I'm a lot closer to both than I was five months ago, which is great. At the moment I'm wearing clothes far too big for me because I'm still trying to put off that clothes shopping trip that I know will be looming at some juncture. I'll wait. All my clothes are already at least one size too big for me, one more won't hurt. I'll go shopping when I'm officially thin enough to throw *all* my old clothes out. Or at least the majority of them. I know that sounds very wasteful, but honestly, my clothes are all so old and battered, if I sent them to the third world, they'd send 'em back with a note saying, "What do you think we are, a charity?" Cancer Research UK would blacklist me if I left any of my clothes at one of their charity shops.
At the moment I've only got one skirt, it's probably two sizes too big and when I first slimmed into it it was just above my knee. It's now halfway down my shin. It does look ridiculous. I will sort it out one day, honestly. I just want to get there first. As soon as I'm comfortably into a size 18 I'll cheerfully bin my fat clothes, get myself down the high street, walk in with my head held high and bypass the Fat Person's Clothes section and buy something that actually looks nice and not like a misshapen sack with a token handful of sequins in a feeble attempt at making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Oh, how I long for that day!
Seriously, if anyone wants to come with me to help me , that'd be great. Send all applications to the usual address and in no more than 20 words, complete the sentence, "I should take Spev clothes shopping for skinny person clothes because..." I'll even treat you to a coffee and a slice of cake from Costa while we're out by way of a thank you!
Join me on Friday when hopefully I'll at least have boxed off most of that pesky 3 1/2 lbs that's keeping me from reaching my 3 stone target. With any luck the llamas will have come up with a lovely dance routine and we can all have a great time shaking our maracas together!! Arriba!!
I've got back onto the green tea, I've started eating more fruit and I've kept myself to below 10 Syns per day. If I don't see at least some improvement by Friday I'll throw the blasted new scales out the window - don't try and stop me!! I may be skinnier now but I've still got the strength of a girl nearly three stone heavier than me...!! Grr!
I sort of feel like I've been a bit of an in-between size for the last couple of months. I reckon I've got about another stone to lose before I get back into my old clothes. There are two items of clothing that I'm desperate to be able to wear again - a black pinstripe shirt dress and a dogtooth skirt suit, both of which are a size 18. I'm a lot closer to both than I was five months ago, which is great. At the moment I'm wearing clothes far too big for me because I'm still trying to put off that clothes shopping trip that I know will be looming at some juncture. I'll wait. All my clothes are already at least one size too big for me, one more won't hurt. I'll go shopping when I'm officially thin enough to throw *all* my old clothes out. Or at least the majority of them. I know that sounds very wasteful, but honestly, my clothes are all so old and battered, if I sent them to the third world, they'd send 'em back with a note saying, "What do you think we are, a charity?" Cancer Research UK would blacklist me if I left any of my clothes at one of their charity shops.
At the moment I've only got one skirt, it's probably two sizes too big and when I first slimmed into it it was just above my knee. It's now halfway down my shin. It does look ridiculous. I will sort it out one day, honestly. I just want to get there first. As soon as I'm comfortably into a size 18 I'll cheerfully bin my fat clothes, get myself down the high street, walk in with my head held high and bypass the Fat Person's Clothes section and buy something that actually looks nice and not like a misshapen sack with a token handful of sequins in a feeble attempt at making a silk purse out of a sow's ear. Oh, how I long for that day!
Seriously, if anyone wants to come with me to help me , that'd be great. Send all applications to the usual address and in no more than 20 words, complete the sentence, "I should take Spev clothes shopping for skinny person clothes because..." I'll even treat you to a coffee and a slice of cake from Costa while we're out by way of a thank you!
Join me on Friday when hopefully I'll at least have boxed off most of that pesky 3 1/2 lbs that's keeping me from reaching my 3 stone target. With any luck the llamas will have come up with a lovely dance routine and we can all have a great time shaking our maracas together!! Arriba!!
Wednesday, 2 May 2012
Game Face
You know, you'd be surprised at how many people were outraged by Andrea the Consultant's idiocy last Thursday. I know I am. There's been uproar. Who knows what to believe now?!
I suppose that the scales are entirely the wrong thing to concentrate on. I mean, yes, it was very disappointing when they said something I didn't like - but at the moment they give me a number I don't like every week. The number that I saw last Thursday was nowhere near as big as the number I saw on 5 January - in fact if I'd seen that number on 5 January I probably would have done a little jig of happiness. In fact... I can't actually remember what the scales said last Thursday. I'm now all confused with the numbers. It doesn't take much to confuse me in a numerical fashion. I think darts players have supercomputers hardwired into their brains for their incredible mathematical dexterity. How do they always know how count backwards from 501 to finish on a double?! It's a gift. Apparently the meaning of life is 42 - and I'm not mathematically qualified enough to provide any sort of argument to the contrary. I think it's a fluke that I passed my Maths GCSE the first time of asking!
The fact is, my clothes are even more baggy on me than they were a couple of weeks ago. That's got to be the main thing. I don't think it'll take a great deal more weight loss until I've dropped three dress sizes. I think I'm sort of between two and three dress sizes smaller, so obviously nothing fits at all at the moment and I look like a bit of a tramp, but it'll all be all right in the end.
Slimming World does work. I mean - it clearly works. Whether the scales say the right thing or not doesn't really matter - because they're not supposed to say the right thing until you're finished losing weight, that's the whole point.
So, then. Come on. Let's do this. If I was American I may even be tempted to say something motivational, grammatically questionable and a little urban like, "Bring it." But I'm not, so I won't. The fact is, I'm never going to get there if I curl up into a podgy ball and give up at my first real knockback. People put on weight all the time. I've been doing it for years. Even though I know I didn't actually put weight on last week - the only numbers I'm really interested in are the numbers on the labels in my clothes.
In other news, I discovered that my boss doesn't want me to work Saturdays any more. This was extremely annoying on two counts. Firstly, nobody had bothered to mention to me that my services weren't required on Saturdays before I turned up for work on Saturday, when they looked shocked and asked what I was doing there. Secondly, this officially means that I have to get a new job. I keep threatening it but unfortunately I really need to think about moving on now. I don't want to because I hate job hunting and being the newbie and getting to know another new set of people - but sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And despite the fact there's a lot less of me now - I still gotta eat.
In other *other* news, I am researching like nobody's business in the hope of getting inspired to continue in The Phantom Winger (I heard someone say at Slimming World the other week that they'd been to the Phantom Winger, and it did take me a few moments to work out what they were talking about! I was all ready to say "Hey, I wrote that! What did you think of it?!" but then I remembered that a) it's a pub and b) I haven't written it yet! It's got a good ending, though. Or at least it will do.) - and by 'research', I basically mean I've been watching a lot of spy films. I think it's helping. Not that I condone or indulge in plaigarism, it's just that those sorts of films do help you to get in the right mindset for a good old spy romp. I'm hoping to make a bit of a start on Chapter Three next week, as soon as I work out exactly where to start it. I had such high hopes for being nearly halfway through the first draft by now, but alas - a writer's lot isn't always a productive one.
So, after a bit of a wobbly start to my weekend, I think things are starting to even out a bit. I'm not really looking forward to the weigh-in tomorrow, because who knows what the crazy scales will tell me this week - and I'm still feeling a bit guilty after Thursday's KFC!! However, whatever happens I will update you on my progress in Friday's blog. The llamas will be back by then, all relaxed and refreshed, and hopefully ready for a good old fiesta!! Get your maracas at the ready... you might well need 'em!!
I suppose that the scales are entirely the wrong thing to concentrate on. I mean, yes, it was very disappointing when they said something I didn't like - but at the moment they give me a number I don't like every week. The number that I saw last Thursday was nowhere near as big as the number I saw on 5 January - in fact if I'd seen that number on 5 January I probably would have done a little jig of happiness. In fact... I can't actually remember what the scales said last Thursday. I'm now all confused with the numbers. It doesn't take much to confuse me in a numerical fashion. I think darts players have supercomputers hardwired into their brains for their incredible mathematical dexterity. How do they always know how count backwards from 501 to finish on a double?! It's a gift. Apparently the meaning of life is 42 - and I'm not mathematically qualified enough to provide any sort of argument to the contrary. I think it's a fluke that I passed my Maths GCSE the first time of asking!
The fact is, my clothes are even more baggy on me than they were a couple of weeks ago. That's got to be the main thing. I don't think it'll take a great deal more weight loss until I've dropped three dress sizes. I think I'm sort of between two and three dress sizes smaller, so obviously nothing fits at all at the moment and I look like a bit of a tramp, but it'll all be all right in the end.
Slimming World does work. I mean - it clearly works. Whether the scales say the right thing or not doesn't really matter - because they're not supposed to say the right thing until you're finished losing weight, that's the whole point.
So, then. Come on. Let's do this. If I was American I may even be tempted to say something motivational, grammatically questionable and a little urban like, "Bring it." But I'm not, so I won't. The fact is, I'm never going to get there if I curl up into a podgy ball and give up at my first real knockback. People put on weight all the time. I've been doing it for years. Even though I know I didn't actually put weight on last week - the only numbers I'm really interested in are the numbers on the labels in my clothes.
In other news, I discovered that my boss doesn't want me to work Saturdays any more. This was extremely annoying on two counts. Firstly, nobody had bothered to mention to me that my services weren't required on Saturdays before I turned up for work on Saturday, when they looked shocked and asked what I was doing there. Secondly, this officially means that I have to get a new job. I keep threatening it but unfortunately I really need to think about moving on now. I don't want to because I hate job hunting and being the newbie and getting to know another new set of people - but sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. And despite the fact there's a lot less of me now - I still gotta eat.
In other *other* news, I am researching like nobody's business in the hope of getting inspired to continue in The Phantom Winger (I heard someone say at Slimming World the other week that they'd been to the Phantom Winger, and it did take me a few moments to work out what they were talking about! I was all ready to say "Hey, I wrote that! What did you think of it?!" but then I remembered that a) it's a pub and b) I haven't written it yet! It's got a good ending, though. Or at least it will do.) - and by 'research', I basically mean I've been watching a lot of spy films. I think it's helping. Not that I condone or indulge in plaigarism, it's just that those sorts of films do help you to get in the right mindset for a good old spy romp. I'm hoping to make a bit of a start on Chapter Three next week, as soon as I work out exactly where to start it. I had such high hopes for being nearly halfway through the first draft by now, but alas - a writer's lot isn't always a productive one.
So, after a bit of a wobbly start to my weekend, I think things are starting to even out a bit. I'm not really looking forward to the weigh-in tomorrow, because who knows what the crazy scales will tell me this week - and I'm still feeling a bit guilty after Thursday's KFC!! However, whatever happens I will update you on my progress in Friday's blog. The llamas will be back by then, all relaxed and refreshed, and hopefully ready for a good old fiesta!! Get your maracas at the ready... you might well need 'em!!
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.
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