So, the Olympics has started in London and everyone's mind is turning to all things sporty.
Mine isn't. Even though I've watched a lot of gymnastics (and fencing, swimming and... actually that's it, so far). If I could back-flip, I have a feeling that I would never walk again. A normal trip to the corner shop for a pint of milk would be a very different experience. Or if I'd gone on a dead long walk and my legs got tired, I'd just walk on my hands instead. I'd be triple somersaulting all over the flippin' (ha! see what I did there?!) place. It must be nice to be a natural athlete.
The E Word keeps rearing its ugly head and I keep on avoiding it like the plague. Due to my lack of car I do walk nearly everywhere - at least two miles a day, but I'm really starting to get the feeling that I have to do more. I have arms that need unwobbling. I have curves that need to look more curvy and less lumpy. I have core muscles that need... er... coring.
I'm bored already. Exercise is for people without the capability to watch sport on television, surely?
I blame the plethora of exercise that's going on in the country right now. Us sedentary chaps and chapesses are being made to feel guilty. Look. Some of us - like Bruce Springsteen - were born to run. Some of us were born to get public transport instead - like me.
I keep being advised to take up swimming, but I feel this is the last thing I ought to do. For a start it will unquestionably involve, at some stage, the concept of me in a swimming costume. There is probably no sight more repugnant to the human race. Even the thought of it makes my blood run cold. Nobody needs to see that! Eeesh!!! The other problem with swimming is that I can't swim. Which really is a problem that far exceeds any self-hate issues I happen to have running in conjunction with my lack of ability. Besides, I'd end up with shoulders the size of a small child. I don't need another hang-up about my physical appearance, thank you - I already have enough for two lifetimes!!
There'll be an activity out there that has my name on it. Something that doesn't involve going outside, is a well known source of aerobic exercise and is utterly enjoyable and with purpose. I know what you're all thinking. And you're right. I should really start dancing round the living room! (What?! What were you thinking?!)
I've been very good this weekend. I've eaten a lot but it's all been the right sort of stuff. I've also done a ton of decorating and loads more walking than usual. That ought to do something for certain muscle groups. Dunno what, like, but it ought to - I'm knackered. It should at least improve my karate. I've seen the Karate Kid (I'm referring to the real one and not the abysmal remake that Jackie Chan basically spent the whole film looking apologetic for. And this is from the man who made Shanghai Knights!), I know how it works. I bet I'm an expert now - I could take on ALL the Cobra Kai team and batter 'em!! Just try coming at me! Try it!!
Actually - don't. I'll most likely scream hysterically, fall to the floor and assume the foetal position.
I don't know what to think about the weight-loss thing at the moment, though. It seems to me, whenever I think "Oooh, I dunno, I feel a bit podgier this week, I'm sure I've put on! And how about that extra cup of coffee with milk I had on Tuesday morning?!" it turns out that I lose something ridiculous like 4lbs or so. But when I've been mega-good and Synned like a nun at Lourdes, and thought to myself, "I've been dead good, I must've lost something this week! I even feel thinner!" I end up either only losing half a pound or putting a bit of weight on or staying the same. All I'm doing is following the plan exactly as I did on my first week back in January. At the moment I'm simply aiming to still be the same weight as I was before my epic week of hedonism. If I get a better result than that then I shall be chuffed, but I really don't want to get my hopes up. I mean, I've been very good last week and am determined to be just as good this week, so, who knows. If I can get as close as I can to my 4 stone mark by next Thursday I shall be more chuffed than the chuff of a chuff's chuff. And we all know how chuffed they are!
Join me later on in the week for my pre-weigh in nervous breakdown. It's been two weeks since I last went to Fat Club and I'm sure by Wednesdayish I shall be absolutely terrified about getting back on those there scales... *wibble*
Showing posts with label exercise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label exercise. Show all posts
Monday, 30 July 2012
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, 12 March 2012
Crash! Boom! Bang!
Can't believe it's Monday again. Can't a girl get a break?! All I want is just one day off, just one, on my own, to get my little head straight, to get some things done that need doing and to just have a few hours of silence. God. Sounds like heaven. It's all too much. I need everything to stop for a while so my head stops spinning. I have a feeling it won't happen until at least Easter, though. Even then, I have my doubts!
Saturday was lovely. I haven't seen my niece and nephews (collectively still termed 'the kids' despite the fact they're all grown up and only a few years younger than I am) all year. Which is partly due to general bad auntie-dom, but also due to the fact Southport is a hell of a place to navigate into and out of on public transport - and the fact my niece now lives in Bristol. Which is quite a walk. Still, getting to spend time with any of them is on my favourite things to do in the whole world list - so spending time with all three of them at once made me ridiculously happy. It's my Mum and Dad's 50th anniversary at the end of March and the celebrations began on Saturday. Well. Technically I think they began last Wednesday when Mum invited some of my cousins over, but this was the first actual party for them, and there will be more celebrations as the month progresses. I mean, why not? If you're going to celebrate something so monumental, do it properly!!
I got really upset yesterday. I have never known an overweight person get heckled more than I do while minding their own business walking down the street. Honestly. It's ridiculous. I must be some sort of monster. People must visibly recoil in horror when they look at me and get a little bit sick in their mouths at the sight of the putrid mass that is me. Honestly. I was just walking to my pal's house, feeling quite proud of myself for not being knackered at the half-way point, when I saw three kids on the pavement a bit further up the road. I hate children (I say 'children', they were probably about 17, however, evidently still not old enough to have learned any people skills), as you know, so I thought rather than have to share the same airspace as them, I'd just cross the road. As I did, this happened:
BOY 1: Bloody hell, you're fat, aren't you?
ME: [thinking] Ignore him, ignore him, he may be talking to... someone else... even if you are the only other person on the street!
BOY 1: Erm, excuse me, didn't you hear me?
ME: [thinking] Holy hell! Vile people are getting braver! I wish I knew more people on this road so I could just call on them and hide till they went away!
BOY 2: I'm sorry, were you talking to me, I thought you were talking to the fat person who just crossed the road!
ME: [thinking] If only there was a convenient tall building I could throw myself off at this juncture - it'd be over quickly, I must have one hell of a gravitational pull!!
I mean - goodness only knows what they'd've said if they'd seen me walking down the street at the beginning of January, they'd've probably had a heart attack - as between all three of them they probably only have one heart.
I know. I know what you're all saying. They're idiots - and this is true. They were only showing off in front of their friends - and this is true too, because one of them was a girl. I am quite aware that their hostility and attempts to humiliate me in public was merely due to the fact that they likely have to compensate for inadequate-sized, ineffectual genetalia. And I do derive a smug sense of satisfaction that, if they ever read this blog entry, they wouldn't have a clue what the last sentence meant. But then you can't help that little voice in the back of your head saying, "They're only saying what everyone else is thinking because they don't know you so they're not worried about offending you." You'd think, the more it happened, the less it'd hurt, but to be honest, it doesn't hurt any less - if anything, especially after all the hard work I've put in over the last nine weeks, it hurts more.
I'm feeling very wobbly at the moment, I think that's what I'm saying. I keep having dreams about devouring the contents of a sweet shop and I wake up feeling really bloated and horrible, even though I know I haven't really eaten anything. I felt a bit of a failure on Thursday night and managed to talk myself round by Friday - but now I feel as though perhaps my initial self-loathing was possibly warranted. The thing is, I'm really doing my best and I feel like it isn't good enough but I've no idea what else I can possibly do to make it better. I know I'm a bit grumpy, but by and large I like to think I'm quite a nice person - I definitely wouldn't go out of my way to upset anyone, and I don't understand why complete strangers feel the need to inform me of how large I am when I am clearly already painfully aware of the fact. Really. Stop it. It's fine. I know. I'm doing something about it. It isn't a miracle cure, it's a long, hard slog - so it'll take time, but I'm doing it. Just... back off and stop heckling me! I wouldn't mind but they're not even funny like Stadler and Waldorf from The Muppet Show!!
So, all in all, I'm feeling far too Mondayish for my own good today. Still. There's only seven hours until I'm on the train on my way home. Sorry. Six hours and fifty nine minutes...
Join me again on Wednesday. The good thing about that will be the fact that as I'm already pretty much at rock bottom today, I can't hit a midweek slump by Wednesday - so with any luck I'll be feeling far more cheerful and positive about everything. Well. Perhaps!!
Saturday was lovely. I haven't seen my niece and nephews (collectively still termed 'the kids' despite the fact they're all grown up and only a few years younger than I am) all year. Which is partly due to general bad auntie-dom, but also due to the fact Southport is a hell of a place to navigate into and out of on public transport - and the fact my niece now lives in Bristol. Which is quite a walk. Still, getting to spend time with any of them is on my favourite things to do in the whole world list - so spending time with all three of them at once made me ridiculously happy. It's my Mum and Dad's 50th anniversary at the end of March and the celebrations began on Saturday. Well. Technically I think they began last Wednesday when Mum invited some of my cousins over, but this was the first actual party for them, and there will be more celebrations as the month progresses. I mean, why not? If you're going to celebrate something so monumental, do it properly!!
I got really upset yesterday. I have never known an overweight person get heckled more than I do while minding their own business walking down the street. Honestly. It's ridiculous. I must be some sort of monster. People must visibly recoil in horror when they look at me and get a little bit sick in their mouths at the sight of the putrid mass that is me. Honestly. I was just walking to my pal's house, feeling quite proud of myself for not being knackered at the half-way point, when I saw three kids on the pavement a bit further up the road. I hate children (I say 'children', they were probably about 17, however, evidently still not old enough to have learned any people skills), as you know, so I thought rather than have to share the same airspace as them, I'd just cross the road. As I did, this happened:
BOY 1: Bloody hell, you're fat, aren't you?
ME: [thinking] Ignore him, ignore him, he may be talking to... someone else... even if you are the only other person on the street!
BOY 1: Erm, excuse me, didn't you hear me?
ME: [thinking] Holy hell! Vile people are getting braver! I wish I knew more people on this road so I could just call on them and hide till they went away!
BOY 2: I'm sorry, were you talking to me, I thought you were talking to the fat person who just crossed the road!
ME: [thinking] If only there was a convenient tall building I could throw myself off at this juncture - it'd be over quickly, I must have one hell of a gravitational pull!!
I mean - goodness only knows what they'd've said if they'd seen me walking down the street at the beginning of January, they'd've probably had a heart attack - as between all three of them they probably only have one heart.
I know. I know what you're all saying. They're idiots - and this is true. They were only showing off in front of their friends - and this is true too, because one of them was a girl. I am quite aware that their hostility and attempts to humiliate me in public was merely due to the fact that they likely have to compensate for inadequate-sized, ineffectual genetalia. And I do derive a smug sense of satisfaction that, if they ever read this blog entry, they wouldn't have a clue what the last sentence meant. But then you can't help that little voice in the back of your head saying, "They're only saying what everyone else is thinking because they don't know you so they're not worried about offending you." You'd think, the more it happened, the less it'd hurt, but to be honest, it doesn't hurt any less - if anything, especially after all the hard work I've put in over the last nine weeks, it hurts more.
I'm feeling very wobbly at the moment, I think that's what I'm saying. I keep having dreams about devouring the contents of a sweet shop and I wake up feeling really bloated and horrible, even though I know I haven't really eaten anything. I felt a bit of a failure on Thursday night and managed to talk myself round by Friday - but now I feel as though perhaps my initial self-loathing was possibly warranted. The thing is, I'm really doing my best and I feel like it isn't good enough but I've no idea what else I can possibly do to make it better. I know I'm a bit grumpy, but by and large I like to think I'm quite a nice person - I definitely wouldn't go out of my way to upset anyone, and I don't understand why complete strangers feel the need to inform me of how large I am when I am clearly already painfully aware of the fact. Really. Stop it. It's fine. I know. I'm doing something about it. It isn't a miracle cure, it's a long, hard slog - so it'll take time, but I'm doing it. Just... back off and stop heckling me! I wouldn't mind but they're not even funny like Stadler and Waldorf from The Muppet Show!!
So, all in all, I'm feeling far too Mondayish for my own good today. Still. There's only seven hours until I'm on the train on my way home. Sorry. Six hours and fifty nine minutes...
Join me again on Wednesday. The good thing about that will be the fact that as I'm already pretty much at rock bottom today, I can't hit a midweek slump by Wednesday - so with any luck I'll be feeling far more cheerful and positive about everything. Well. Perhaps!!
Wednesday, 7 March 2012
Assemble!
Oh, you don't even know - you can't possibly have any idea exactly how excited I am about the forthcoming Avengers film. You just can't. 52 sleeps till it's out at the pictures! I do love this time of year, when all the buzz about the forthcoming summer films first starts. I know I'm mostly a retro vintage silver screen type girl (my favourite film of all time is City Lights by Charlie Chaplin. Watch it. You'll never regret it!), but I'm a sucker for a film containing big explosions, reeeeally evil baddies and slightly anti-heroic good guys, preferably ones with superpowers.
I'll try and calm down in order to blog like a human being rather than, if I really did just type out my train of thought, simply typing out 100,000 lines of "OMFG!" Acronyms should be used sparingly, after all. There's never really much to say of a Wednesday, truth be told - it's not like anyone's particularly interested in how much I hate my job at the moment (lots, incidentally) and how much I'm looking forward to Masterchef tonight (SQUEEE!). I suppose, then, the Wednesday blog is my most self-indulgent update of the week - which is likely why I always feel so apologetic about them!!
I have no news on the writing front. I'm actually blocked on everything. Which is rubbish. I have no proper computer access and the deadline for the competition is in two weeks. I just wish everything would come to me in a dream (rather than the weird psycho killer dream I had last night which just scared me into consciousness every time I nodded off) and then I could have a day off to write and everything would be peachy. Ho hum. The book is on the back burner for now and probably will stay there until late spring/early summer, but I did have another read of it and I surprised myself with how much I didn't hate it.
I do have one exciting thing to mention on the weight loss front. Okay, you may not find it exciting, but I did allow myself a little whoop of joy. I own a black, woollen coat that I inherited from my late cousin, which is of a peculiar size - it says 18 but I have a feeling the top of it is much bigger than that as I've been able to squeeze into it for some time and I'm definitely not that size yet. Anyway, for a considerable time I could only fasten two of the four buttons, and then for about a month I've been able to fasten three. Imagine my excitement, if you will, when I actually fastened all four buttons yesterday!! We're talking actual progress now, folks. Real, visible, in-yer-face progress. I'm shrinking before my very eyes. Well. Not quite, obviously, because that'd be impossible. But you know what I mean.
For the first time since January, then, I'm feeling slightly confident about tomorrow. Naturally, I understand that losing 5lbs every week is impossible, impractical and not particularly healthy. But I know I've been even more motivated than usual, I'm getting my walk on every day - and even I can see that I'm getting littler, so hopefully all of that positivity will be reflected in the scales. Really hope so, anyway.
Join me again on Friday, when hopefully you'll meet more of my llamas if I have a good result tomorrow, and I'll have a bit of a look forward to an exciting weekend. Hope you're all having a fabulous week - and if you get chance, watch the trailer to the new Avengers film. Two words. AWE. SOME. (winking smiley)
I'll try and calm down in order to blog like a human being rather than, if I really did just type out my train of thought, simply typing out 100,000 lines of "OMFG!" Acronyms should be used sparingly, after all. There's never really much to say of a Wednesday, truth be told - it's not like anyone's particularly interested in how much I hate my job at the moment (lots, incidentally) and how much I'm looking forward to Masterchef tonight (SQUEEE!). I suppose, then, the Wednesday blog is my most self-indulgent update of the week - which is likely why I always feel so apologetic about them!!
I have no news on the writing front. I'm actually blocked on everything. Which is rubbish. I have no proper computer access and the deadline for the competition is in two weeks. I just wish everything would come to me in a dream (rather than the weird psycho killer dream I had last night which just scared me into consciousness every time I nodded off) and then I could have a day off to write and everything would be peachy. Ho hum. The book is on the back burner for now and probably will stay there until late spring/early summer, but I did have another read of it and I surprised myself with how much I didn't hate it.
I do have one exciting thing to mention on the weight loss front. Okay, you may not find it exciting, but I did allow myself a little whoop of joy. I own a black, woollen coat that I inherited from my late cousin, which is of a peculiar size - it says 18 but I have a feeling the top of it is much bigger than that as I've been able to squeeze into it for some time and I'm definitely not that size yet. Anyway, for a considerable time I could only fasten two of the four buttons, and then for about a month I've been able to fasten three. Imagine my excitement, if you will, when I actually fastened all four buttons yesterday!! We're talking actual progress now, folks. Real, visible, in-yer-face progress. I'm shrinking before my very eyes. Well. Not quite, obviously, because that'd be impossible. But you know what I mean.
For the first time since January, then, I'm feeling slightly confident about tomorrow. Naturally, I understand that losing 5lbs every week is impossible, impractical and not particularly healthy. But I know I've been even more motivated than usual, I'm getting my walk on every day - and even I can see that I'm getting littler, so hopefully all of that positivity will be reflected in the scales. Really hope so, anyway.
Join me again on Friday, when hopefully you'll meet more of my llamas if I have a good result tomorrow, and I'll have a bit of a look forward to an exciting weekend. Hope you're all having a fabulous week - and if you get chance, watch the trailer to the new Avengers film. Two words. AWE. SOME. (winking smiley)
Monday, 5 March 2012
Keep on Walking
Thanks to everyone who gave such positive feedback from Friday's blog. Miguel, Ricardo and Enrique were all really pleased to meet you. Who knows, if I have another good result this week I might introduce you to the twin llamas - Pablo and Eduardo.
You know the thing that worries me most about exercise? The amount of people who go to Slimming World every week and say, "I don't understand how I managed to put weight on - I've been to the gym every day!" only to get the reply "Ah, that'll be why you've put weight on..."
I know muscle weighs more than fat, but still. At the moment I can't afford to put an ounce back on. Of anything. Besides. Losing 1 1/2 stone in eight weeks with relatively little exercise must be some sort of sign. And yes, I am something of an expert in the art of avoiding physical exertion on any level. Besides, I'm a girl, I don't want muscles!
Still. Now I've lost a bit of weight, I seem to have a bit more energy than I used to. Naturally, I understand it's very tiring to lug three tonnes of weight around with you, and that offloading any of it will make you feel slightly more spry of step. But I have all this pent-up energy knocking about the place and in the absence of any talent at any physical activity I was in a bit of a quandry about what to do with it.
So, after a lovely Synful curry cooked by the big sister on Friday, I decided to go for a rather wacky walk on Saturday afternoon in some sort of bizarre attempt to walk it off. When I say wacky, don't get any ideas of The Ministry of Silly Walks - just a slightly bizarre route. I had intended to walk a sort of a square route (get me being all mathematical) but I decided I hadn't quite walked far enough so it turned into a sort of deformed octagonal route...
I must now be thinking like a skinny person. I would never, ever ever ever in a quadrillion years, EVER have so much as considered exercising off any meal - ever. But there you go. I did it. I went for a walk, I didn't die, and in fact I enjoyed it so much that I took a slightly shorter walk yesterday as well. So, I've decided I'm going to do some walking every day. Not tonnes, like, just a mile or two at the most, then I can build it up over the coming months. See how I get on. After all, I've been walking for well over a quarter of a century now and I'm quite used to the 'one foot in front of the other' concept. But I'll never do running. Never. Running is not an activity that was ever designed with bosoms in mind!
Tried on a dress last night that I've only ever worn once and even then it didn't fit properly. It's slightly stretchy material and there are no zips or buttons or anything - but if it doesn't fit, it really doesn't fit. Hadn't even been able to get the thing past my shoulders for years. One of those unforgiving frocks that you really need to have curves in the right places and none anywhere else. It still doesn't fit properly but it does fit very well at the top and around the back. Hopefully I might fit into it soon enough. Fingers crossed. At the moment I'm just chuffed I can try the thing on without feeling as though I might suffocate or be trapped forever with my elbows round my ears...
All in all I suppose I'm feeling rather positive about the start of the week. Suppose it can only get better, at least. Join me again on Wednesday, when we'll all be suffering the midweek slump but will be able to see Friday waving cheerfully at us in signal of a lovely weekend ahead!!
You know the thing that worries me most about exercise? The amount of people who go to Slimming World every week and say, "I don't understand how I managed to put weight on - I've been to the gym every day!" only to get the reply "Ah, that'll be why you've put weight on..."
I know muscle weighs more than fat, but still. At the moment I can't afford to put an ounce back on. Of anything. Besides. Losing 1 1/2 stone in eight weeks with relatively little exercise must be some sort of sign. And yes, I am something of an expert in the art of avoiding physical exertion on any level. Besides, I'm a girl, I don't want muscles!
Still. Now I've lost a bit of weight, I seem to have a bit more energy than I used to. Naturally, I understand it's very tiring to lug three tonnes of weight around with you, and that offloading any of it will make you feel slightly more spry of step. But I have all this pent-up energy knocking about the place and in the absence of any talent at any physical activity I was in a bit of a quandry about what to do with it.
So, after a lovely Synful curry cooked by the big sister on Friday, I decided to go for a rather wacky walk on Saturday afternoon in some sort of bizarre attempt to walk it off. When I say wacky, don't get any ideas of The Ministry of Silly Walks - just a slightly bizarre route. I had intended to walk a sort of a square route (get me being all mathematical) but I decided I hadn't quite walked far enough so it turned into a sort of deformed octagonal route...
I must now be thinking like a skinny person. I would never, ever ever ever in a quadrillion years, EVER have so much as considered exercising off any meal - ever. But there you go. I did it. I went for a walk, I didn't die, and in fact I enjoyed it so much that I took a slightly shorter walk yesterday as well. So, I've decided I'm going to do some walking every day. Not tonnes, like, just a mile or two at the most, then I can build it up over the coming months. See how I get on. After all, I've been walking for well over a quarter of a century now and I'm quite used to the 'one foot in front of the other' concept. But I'll never do running. Never. Running is not an activity that was ever designed with bosoms in mind!
Tried on a dress last night that I've only ever worn once and even then it didn't fit properly. It's slightly stretchy material and there are no zips or buttons or anything - but if it doesn't fit, it really doesn't fit. Hadn't even been able to get the thing past my shoulders for years. One of those unforgiving frocks that you really need to have curves in the right places and none anywhere else. It still doesn't fit properly but it does fit very well at the top and around the back. Hopefully I might fit into it soon enough. Fingers crossed. At the moment I'm just chuffed I can try the thing on without feeling as though I might suffocate or be trapped forever with my elbows round my ears...
All in all I suppose I'm feeling rather positive about the start of the week. Suppose it can only get better, at least. Join me again on Wednesday, when we'll all be suffering the midweek slump but will be able to see Friday waving cheerfully at us in signal of a lovely weekend ahead!!
Monday, 20 February 2012
My Heart Skips Skips Skips Skips Skips Skips A Beat
No, my heart has not been possessed by the spirit of Michael McIntyre, nor have I developed a stammer. No, indeed - but this weekend was all about the man with the tightest trousers on God's green earth. Yes, folks, OLLY MURS!! (I hope you read that in your Voiceover Man from X-Factor voice!)
I can honestly say that a grand old time was had by all four of us (Jo's pals from work, Hayley and Rachel, were our partners in crime for the evening). We sang. We danced. We laughed. We ate, drank and were merry. Even Jason Manford joined in on the fun. More on that later! I think my one and only grievance was that the boys and girls from Northern Trains are under the misguided supposition that a train consisting of two carriages is sufficient in order to transport the inhabitants of Leyland, Preston, Blackpool, Bolton and the surrounding areas home after a gig at an auditorium that houses 15,000 people. Just saying. Being able to breathe might be nice.
I decided to have my first Flexible Syns day since I started this whole slimming thing. It's slightly more structured and less terrifying than just having a day off, in that rather than just thinking "Bah, to hell with it!" for the day and eating your own body weight in chocolate, you can say to yourself, "Okie doke, I'm going out somewhere that will involve a lot of eating and drinking and general carrying-ons - I'll double/treble my Syn allowance for the day!" and then rein it straight back in for the rest of the week. So I decided upon 45. I did have quite a few drinkypoops, but was actually really rather good on the eating front. I had this amazing salad for my tea consisting of loads of salad leaves, green beans, eggs, tomatoes, grilled chicken and bacon, on a plate roughly the size of my bottom (which may give you an idea of how huge the salad was - I must say I was struggling towards the end!) and all the salad dressing was put in a little pot at the side, so I didn't put any of it on. Fabulous. Had egg, bacon and three Synful sausages for lunch, which was amazing. Been so long since I had anything resembling a Full English breakfast, it was a lovely treat. I have a feeling it should have always been a lovely treat, rather than tea two or three nights a week and then lunch on a Saturday!!!
Of course I still managed to beat myself up about having had a load of Syns, even though I knew I was going to and I didn't go over what I'd decided on, but I did do an awful lot of dancing and jumping about like a mad eejit. I may be fat but I can still shake and shimmy with the best of 'em. I also went on a mammoth walk to my pal Helena's which was, I've now worked out (thanks, Google Maps!), 2.2 miles - so every last drop of booze must have been worked off already!!
Back to Olly.
I think Olly Murs must be the least offensive person in pop. I mean, I appreciate that he mightn't be everyone's cup of tea, and I'd never call myself his biggest fan or anything - but he's just a nice chap and sings cheery songs of cheeriness. I mean you'd need a heart of granite to enforce a feeling of hatred towards him. And, fair play to him - he knows how to put on a show. He had a bit of a ska set and a bit of a Motown set, had everyone up and dancing, as well as all his own songs - I genuinely don't think that there was one person in that audience, male or female (you'd be surprised at how many men were there!) who didn't walk out of the arena feeling just a little bit in love with him. Although it was a large venue, he was so chatty and personable he made it feel like it was a rather intimate gig - which is no mean feat. He made quite a large tour of the arena floor, even going right to the back to dish out hugs and kisses to fans who I'm quite sure never imagined they'd get quite so close from where they were sitting!! Good on him. I've honestly never seen any singer or musician be so committed to making sure *every* person in the audience is having a great time. The big sister said, "It's like everyone who goes to see him gets sprinkled with a bit of love dust!" and it's absolutely true!!
As I may have mentioned, our tickets weren't just in the normal seats - Jo's boss had arranged for all of us to have seats in a private box. I know, get us - partying like celebs without even the slightest hint of a king prawn ring from Iceland!!! I don't think I'd like to gig like a commoner again! We had glasses of red wine out of real glasses, no cheapo plastic glasses with lids, thank you very much! Poshtastic. One started referring to oneself in the third person and everything.
Rachel spotted some actress from Emmerdale in the box next to us, and she smiled and waved and seemed dead nice (I wouldn't know her if I fell over her, but that's beside the point!). So it was quite nice, feeling as though we were rubbing shoulders with a few possible future contestants in I'm A Celebrity. Then, as I was having a bit of a gormless people-watching moment around the arena, I turned around to look in the box next to us and saw a tallish fella who looked rather familiar. I couldn't quite place him and I had to look a couple of times, but then he clocked me and I looked away in case he thought I was being weird. Jo asked me what the matter was and I said, "I'm probably wrong, it probably looks nothing like him - but I'm sure that fella in the box next to us looks a bit like Jason Manford!" She had a quick look and said "Erm, yes. That's probably because it is him."
I am such a Comedian Fangirl, I was more excited about him than the prospect of Olly Murs's trousers! I thought I'd just be cool and pretend I hadn't noticed, but Jo, Rach and Hayles all waved and he gave us all a big smile and waved back.
Later on, during the gig, Jo's feet were killing her, so she took her shoes off and put her feet up on the little ledge in front of us and started wiggling her toes in time to the music. Jason then went down the steps in his box to the ledge, had a bit of a look round, saw Jo's feet, did a massive comedy double take and burst out laughing! She didn't see it, but it was one of the most surreal moments in my life. It's one of my life's ambitions to make a famous comedian laugh - I think if I can do that then I am officially funny. But then our Jo just got her tootsies out and he was in stitches!!!
A girl in front (in the commoners' seats!) saw him and got her photo taken with him, so Hayley and Rachel jumped on that whole scene and also got their photo taken with him. He was so nice, Hayley said that he must get sick of being constantly asked for photos and stuff and he was like "No, no, it's fine, I'm happy to do it!" She said to him, "Listen, Jay, my husband's a big fan of yours. I'm not so keen, but he'll never believe we've seen you!" which I think was probably THE most awesome thing anyone could ever say to a famous person!!! Then afterwards she said to him, "Hey, if you ever want inspiration for new material, come on a night out with us!" and he pointed to Jo and said, "I know! That one's got her shoes off!"
My sister, ladies and gentlemen. The woman whose feet have probably inspired Jason Manford's next stand-up tour!!
What an awesome night. I danced so much my everywhere hurt, I was absolutely wrecked - but it was so worth it. I'm still quite giddy about it. If you're going to see Olly on this tour, you won't regret it - even if you just think "I don't mind him", you too will fall under the Murs spell after the show. Absochuffinlutely fantastic.
Right, well. After all that frivolity and hilarity - it's Monday again. It's another rainy day in Chorley (I'm sure there's a song in that...) and five days of monotony are stretching ahead of me. There is, however, some serious light at the end of the tunnel, as this Friday will be renamed Firman Friday. I cannot wait. Me. Pete Firman. Same room. Same time. Le squee. So exciting I had to say it in French.
Join me again on Wednesday when I'll give you an update on slimming and exercising (I'm going to try a lot harder on the exercise front this week), and hopefully I'll be looking forward with a degree of excitement towards the weigh-in on Thursday!!
I can honestly say that a grand old time was had by all four of us (Jo's pals from work, Hayley and Rachel, were our partners in crime for the evening). We sang. We danced. We laughed. We ate, drank and were merry. Even Jason Manford joined in on the fun. More on that later! I think my one and only grievance was that the boys and girls from Northern Trains are under the misguided supposition that a train consisting of two carriages is sufficient in order to transport the inhabitants of Leyland, Preston, Blackpool, Bolton and the surrounding areas home after a gig at an auditorium that houses 15,000 people. Just saying. Being able to breathe might be nice.
I decided to have my first Flexible Syns day since I started this whole slimming thing. It's slightly more structured and less terrifying than just having a day off, in that rather than just thinking "Bah, to hell with it!" for the day and eating your own body weight in chocolate, you can say to yourself, "Okie doke, I'm going out somewhere that will involve a lot of eating and drinking and general carrying-ons - I'll double/treble my Syn allowance for the day!" and then rein it straight back in for the rest of the week. So I decided upon 45. I did have quite a few drinkypoops, but was actually really rather good on the eating front. I had this amazing salad for my tea consisting of loads of salad leaves, green beans, eggs, tomatoes, grilled chicken and bacon, on a plate roughly the size of my bottom (which may give you an idea of how huge the salad was - I must say I was struggling towards the end!) and all the salad dressing was put in a little pot at the side, so I didn't put any of it on. Fabulous. Had egg, bacon and three Synful sausages for lunch, which was amazing. Been so long since I had anything resembling a Full English breakfast, it was a lovely treat. I have a feeling it should have always been a lovely treat, rather than tea two or three nights a week and then lunch on a Saturday!!!
Of course I still managed to beat myself up about having had a load of Syns, even though I knew I was going to and I didn't go over what I'd decided on, but I did do an awful lot of dancing and jumping about like a mad eejit. I may be fat but I can still shake and shimmy with the best of 'em. I also went on a mammoth walk to my pal Helena's which was, I've now worked out (thanks, Google Maps!), 2.2 miles - so every last drop of booze must have been worked off already!!
Back to Olly.
I think Olly Murs must be the least offensive person in pop. I mean, I appreciate that he mightn't be everyone's cup of tea, and I'd never call myself his biggest fan or anything - but he's just a nice chap and sings cheery songs of cheeriness. I mean you'd need a heart of granite to enforce a feeling of hatred towards him. And, fair play to him - he knows how to put on a show. He had a bit of a ska set and a bit of a Motown set, had everyone up and dancing, as well as all his own songs - I genuinely don't think that there was one person in that audience, male or female (you'd be surprised at how many men were there!) who didn't walk out of the arena feeling just a little bit in love with him. Although it was a large venue, he was so chatty and personable he made it feel like it was a rather intimate gig - which is no mean feat. He made quite a large tour of the arena floor, even going right to the back to dish out hugs and kisses to fans who I'm quite sure never imagined they'd get quite so close from where they were sitting!! Good on him. I've honestly never seen any singer or musician be so committed to making sure *every* person in the audience is having a great time. The big sister said, "It's like everyone who goes to see him gets sprinkled with a bit of love dust!" and it's absolutely true!!
As I may have mentioned, our tickets weren't just in the normal seats - Jo's boss had arranged for all of us to have seats in a private box. I know, get us - partying like celebs without even the slightest hint of a king prawn ring from Iceland!!! I don't think I'd like to gig like a commoner again! We had glasses of red wine out of real glasses, no cheapo plastic glasses with lids, thank you very much! Poshtastic. One started referring to oneself in the third person and everything.
Rachel spotted some actress from Emmerdale in the box next to us, and she smiled and waved and seemed dead nice (I wouldn't know her if I fell over her, but that's beside the point!). So it was quite nice, feeling as though we were rubbing shoulders with a few possible future contestants in I'm A Celebrity. Then, as I was having a bit of a gormless people-watching moment around the arena, I turned around to look in the box next to us and saw a tallish fella who looked rather familiar. I couldn't quite place him and I had to look a couple of times, but then he clocked me and I looked away in case he thought I was being weird. Jo asked me what the matter was and I said, "I'm probably wrong, it probably looks nothing like him - but I'm sure that fella in the box next to us looks a bit like Jason Manford!" She had a quick look and said "Erm, yes. That's probably because it is him."
I am such a Comedian Fangirl, I was more excited about him than the prospect of Olly Murs's trousers! I thought I'd just be cool and pretend I hadn't noticed, but Jo, Rach and Hayles all waved and he gave us all a big smile and waved back.
Later on, during the gig, Jo's feet were killing her, so she took her shoes off and put her feet up on the little ledge in front of us and started wiggling her toes in time to the music. Jason then went down the steps in his box to the ledge, had a bit of a look round, saw Jo's feet, did a massive comedy double take and burst out laughing! She didn't see it, but it was one of the most surreal moments in my life. It's one of my life's ambitions to make a famous comedian laugh - I think if I can do that then I am officially funny. But then our Jo just got her tootsies out and he was in stitches!!!
A girl in front (in the commoners' seats!) saw him and got her photo taken with him, so Hayley and Rachel jumped on that whole scene and also got their photo taken with him. He was so nice, Hayley said that he must get sick of being constantly asked for photos and stuff and he was like "No, no, it's fine, I'm happy to do it!" She said to him, "Listen, Jay, my husband's a big fan of yours. I'm not so keen, but he'll never believe we've seen you!" which I think was probably THE most awesome thing anyone could ever say to a famous person!!! Then afterwards she said to him, "Hey, if you ever want inspiration for new material, come on a night out with us!" and he pointed to Jo and said, "I know! That one's got her shoes off!"
My sister, ladies and gentlemen. The woman whose feet have probably inspired Jason Manford's next stand-up tour!!
What an awesome night. I danced so much my everywhere hurt, I was absolutely wrecked - but it was so worth it. I'm still quite giddy about it. If you're going to see Olly on this tour, you won't regret it - even if you just think "I don't mind him", you too will fall under the Murs spell after the show. Absochuffinlutely fantastic.
Right, well. After all that frivolity and hilarity - it's Monday again. It's another rainy day in Chorley (I'm sure there's a song in that...) and five days of monotony are stretching ahead of me. There is, however, some serious light at the end of the tunnel, as this Friday will be renamed Firman Friday. I cannot wait. Me. Pete Firman. Same room. Same time. Le squee. So exciting I had to say it in French.
Join me again on Wednesday when I'll give you an update on slimming and exercising (I'm going to try a lot harder on the exercise front this week), and hopefully I'll be looking forward with a degree of excitement towards the weigh-in on Thursday!!
Wednesday, 1 February 2012
Skipping Through Fields
With my Skip-It, of course!!
¯¯"Don't - stop - me - noooowwwww!!!!!" ¯¯
Yes. It actually arrived on Monday, except I was at work so I couldn't take delivery of it. So Dad picked it up for me yesterday, but I haven't actually seen him since Sunday... so... although it is in the ownership of yours truly, it still has yet to be acquainted with my right ankle. That'll all change this afternoon, of course. My little feet will be skipping about like nobody's business. You won't even see them, they'll be a blur. I'll make Michael Flatley look sedentary. I'll soon be in talks with various film studios to make my own Skip-It fitness video. Move over, Natalie Cassidy, there's a new former fat girl on the block!!!
Won't be long now. I'll be so skinny I'll vanish when I turn sideways.
I'm feeling really positive this week. About pretty much everything. I've started feeling thinner again, which is a good thing. Hopefully some weight's come off. I mean, I can see that I'm getting thinner, I just hope that the scales agree with me. I saw about a minute of The Simpsons the other night. Homer went into the bathroom to weigh himself and said "Okay, scales, you don't like me, and I don't like you. But I've been real good all week, so you better treat me right!"
Hands up everyone who knows that feeling!!! *raises both hands and a leg*
I was completely hardcore last night. I mean. Hardcore in the extreme. My sister was feeling poorly and not in the mood for healthy eating - so I went to Morrisons to get tea in for her. I bought and cooked her a stuffed crust cheese pizza *wibble* and bought myself some cooked chicken and a salad - and I threw the skin away!! I didn't cave for a second! I was strong - like She-Ra only less manly!! And as an extra special reward, I got to see Everton beat Manchester City 1-0. Hashtag See Oh Why Bee. Woop woop!!
The writer's block has come upon me again, I think I'm feeling a bit too cheerful to write about dead bodies and Russian spies. Well. Dead bodies, anyway, I'm always up for a Russian spy. As it were. I might undertake another writing project. If only a cracking premise would hit me, I could fulfil my main ambition and write a sitcom. I can't turn The Phantom Winger into a sitcom, before you ask. It's not that kind of a story. If only there was a distinct lack of flippant and irreverant sitcoms in Britain.
I suppose I could write a sitcom about a struggling writer trying to lose weight... Diary of a Fat Girl - The Sitcom!!
Join me again on Friday, when I will give you a full update on what happened at Fat Club, including any news on my weight fluctuation. Wish me luck, folks - I think I'm gonna need it!!
¯¯"Don't - stop - me - noooowwwww!!!!!" ¯¯
Yes. It actually arrived on Monday, except I was at work so I couldn't take delivery of it. So Dad picked it up for me yesterday, but I haven't actually seen him since Sunday... so... although it is in the ownership of yours truly, it still has yet to be acquainted with my right ankle. That'll all change this afternoon, of course. My little feet will be skipping about like nobody's business. You won't even see them, they'll be a blur. I'll make Michael Flatley look sedentary. I'll soon be in talks with various film studios to make my own Skip-It fitness video. Move over, Natalie Cassidy, there's a new former fat girl on the block!!!
Won't be long now. I'll be so skinny I'll vanish when I turn sideways.
I'm feeling really positive this week. About pretty much everything. I've started feeling thinner again, which is a good thing. Hopefully some weight's come off. I mean, I can see that I'm getting thinner, I just hope that the scales agree with me. I saw about a minute of The Simpsons the other night. Homer went into the bathroom to weigh himself and said "Okay, scales, you don't like me, and I don't like you. But I've been real good all week, so you better treat me right!"
Hands up everyone who knows that feeling!!! *raises both hands and a leg*
I was completely hardcore last night. I mean. Hardcore in the extreme. My sister was feeling poorly and not in the mood for healthy eating - so I went to Morrisons to get tea in for her. I bought and cooked her a stuffed crust cheese pizza *wibble* and bought myself some cooked chicken and a salad - and I threw the skin away!! I didn't cave for a second! I was strong - like She-Ra only less manly!! And as an extra special reward, I got to see Everton beat Manchester City 1-0. Hashtag See Oh Why Bee. Woop woop!!
The writer's block has come upon me again, I think I'm feeling a bit too cheerful to write about dead bodies and Russian spies. Well. Dead bodies, anyway, I'm always up for a Russian spy. As it were. I might undertake another writing project. If only a cracking premise would hit me, I could fulfil my main ambition and write a sitcom. I can't turn The Phantom Winger into a sitcom, before you ask. It's not that kind of a story. If only there was a distinct lack of flippant and irreverant sitcoms in Britain.
I suppose I could write a sitcom about a struggling writer trying to lose weight... Diary of a Fat Girl - The Sitcom!!
Join me again on Friday, when I will give you a full update on what happened at Fat Club, including any news on my weight fluctuation. Wish me luck, folks - I think I'm gonna need it!!
Friday, 27 January 2012
The Blip
So. As promised in the little blurb at the top of this blog, I will be detailing my ups, downs and plateaus during this weight loss adventure.
This week was a down. I put on 1 1/2 lbs.
The dancing llamas have packed up their leg-warmers and have little droopy ears under their sombreros. The maracas are gathering dust. I am less buoyed than usual (which is funny because I put weight on and therefore must be very buoyant indeed at the moment! Don't throw me in any water to find out though - I can't swim and I have the feeling that, like the Wicked Witch of the West, I might melt if I come into contact with water. "Oh, what a world, what a world!").
*sigh* I didn't even overeat. I didn't have too many Syns. I thought I'd been dead good.
I've been told to start a food diary this week. I have. But unfortunately I had to buy lunch today and the only thing I could find was a chicken sandwich from Boots that, when I checked it out is actually worth 13 1/2 Syns. Chuff that for a game of soldiers!! I'd rather have three Bacardis!!! So I've got a little packet of fruit and some diet lemonade. Chuff.
God I'm hungry. Just wish there was better free snacky stuff than fruit. If I had any actual cash on me I'd've gone and bought some hot chicken from the shop across the road. Oh well. I suppose one hungry day won't kill me. After all, I'm still eating stuff. I'll eat more tomorrow.
Meh. Forget it. I've decided to just eat the filling. I think all the Syns are in the bread and the mayo. There's definitely nothing Synful about chicken breast, rocket and tomatoes (although I'll probably still count some, just in case!)!!
There's also the exercise bit that I'm finding trouble with. I'd go for lovely walks, but I live on the edge of an industrial estate, which frankly isn't the most inspiring place for that type of exercise. I've just ordered my Skip-It and it should be here within the next week or so. A good half-hour of that every day and I'll be like a stick in no time!! Well. Fair enough, I'll need to build up to it. Still. It's better than doing nothing, I guess.
So hopefully this time next week I'll have lost weight again. I've either completely cut out, or cut down massively on things like saturated fat, chocolate, crisps, chips, booze and other yummy stuff. I've even stopped eating the skin off chicken - which, as everyone knows, is the best bit!! And I haven't cheated once. I mean, I really haven't. I've been really self-disciplined. So maybe it was just a bit of a glitch this week. Also, without wanting to be too graphic, I did have to jump up and down quite a lot in the queue due to the complete lack of bathroom facilities. How I managed not to embarrass myself in front of a room full of people is a miracle. So, perhaps that didn't help too much either.
I didn't stay to group - mostly because I was about to burst into floods of tears and nobody needs to see a fat girl crying, so I can't tell you how Dave the Bloke or Beth the Legend, or even Barbara of "Having A Bloody Brilliant Week" fame got on, but when I left Dave was deep in conversation with Andrea the Consultant - so either he did really well or really badly. I'm sure he did well, he was really determined last week.
As if yesterday wasn't traumatic enough, I got a haircut as well. Now, you must understand that I am terrified of hairdressers. Terrified. I mean they're up there with masks and gloves as my biggest phobias. I do everything in my power to avoid haircuts and I do tend to do very well in my avoidance of them. I think averaging out at one every eighteen months is quite good going, considering how expensive they are and how much I get cut off each time. No hairdresser has ever made a profit from me!! I think my eldest sister is partly to blame for that time she decided to give me "a trim" when I was about 12 and cut my hair from just past my bum to just above my shoulderblades. My mother takes the rest of the blame for cutting my eyelid one time when she decided to cut my fringe. She was more hysterical than I was, in fairness. But still. Bad memories. And I hate people messing with my hair, it makes me claustrophobic. So, all in all, hairdressing salons are not the type of place I would ever willingly frequent. On reflection it was quite a good cut, however, I have no idea what on earth she was thinking when she styled it, I genuinely looked as though I'd just fallen out of bed. It was awful. Luckily it had dropped quite a lot by the time I had to go out in public so I didn't feel too bad. Now all I need to do is get it dyed tonight and I might start looking like my old self again. Well. Like my old self who's just eaten a whole person. But still, you get the idea.
So getting a haircut and finding out I'd put on weight all in the space of one day didn't, as you can imagine, put me in the best of moods. Such a shame. I had a brilliant day on Monday, now I'm a miserable old sod again. Ah well. I knew it wouldn't last.
This weekend I am going on an adventure with my lovely pal Helena to Liverpool, best city in the world and home of the best football team in the history of the game. Also home to Liverpool FC. Sorry about that, folks. But to make up for it, we did give the world The Beatles.
Join me on Monday when I will give you the gossip from the weekend and take a look toward the week ahead. Whatever you're up to over the next couple of days, have a lovely time, take care of yourselves and remember - if you're going to get on a pair of scales, make sure you have an empty bladder first...!!
This week was a down. I put on 1 1/2 lbs.
The dancing llamas have packed up their leg-warmers and have little droopy ears under their sombreros. The maracas are gathering dust. I am less buoyed than usual (which is funny because I put weight on and therefore must be very buoyant indeed at the moment! Don't throw me in any water to find out though - I can't swim and I have the feeling that, like the Wicked Witch of the West, I might melt if I come into contact with water. "Oh, what a world, what a world!").
*sigh* I didn't even overeat. I didn't have too many Syns. I thought I'd been dead good.
I've been told to start a food diary this week. I have. But unfortunately I had to buy lunch today and the only thing I could find was a chicken sandwich from Boots that, when I checked it out is actually worth 13 1/2 Syns. Chuff that for a game of soldiers!! I'd rather have three Bacardis!!! So I've got a little packet of fruit and some diet lemonade. Chuff.
God I'm hungry. Just wish there was better free snacky stuff than fruit. If I had any actual cash on me I'd've gone and bought some hot chicken from the shop across the road. Oh well. I suppose one hungry day won't kill me. After all, I'm still eating stuff. I'll eat more tomorrow.
Meh. Forget it. I've decided to just eat the filling. I think all the Syns are in the bread and the mayo. There's definitely nothing Synful about chicken breast, rocket and tomatoes (although I'll probably still count some, just in case!)!!
There's also the exercise bit that I'm finding trouble with. I'd go for lovely walks, but I live on the edge of an industrial estate, which frankly isn't the most inspiring place for that type of exercise. I've just ordered my Skip-It and it should be here within the next week or so. A good half-hour of that every day and I'll be like a stick in no time!! Well. Fair enough, I'll need to build up to it. Still. It's better than doing nothing, I guess.
So hopefully this time next week I'll have lost weight again. I've either completely cut out, or cut down massively on things like saturated fat, chocolate, crisps, chips, booze and other yummy stuff. I've even stopped eating the skin off chicken - which, as everyone knows, is the best bit!! And I haven't cheated once. I mean, I really haven't. I've been really self-disciplined. So maybe it was just a bit of a glitch this week. Also, without wanting to be too graphic, I did have to jump up and down quite a lot in the queue due to the complete lack of bathroom facilities. How I managed not to embarrass myself in front of a room full of people is a miracle. So, perhaps that didn't help too much either.
I didn't stay to group - mostly because I was about to burst into floods of tears and nobody needs to see a fat girl crying, so I can't tell you how Dave the Bloke or Beth the Legend, or even Barbara of "Having A Bloody Brilliant Week" fame got on, but when I left Dave was deep in conversation with Andrea the Consultant - so either he did really well or really badly. I'm sure he did well, he was really determined last week.
As if yesterday wasn't traumatic enough, I got a haircut as well. Now, you must understand that I am terrified of hairdressers. Terrified. I mean they're up there with masks and gloves as my biggest phobias. I do everything in my power to avoid haircuts and I do tend to do very well in my avoidance of them. I think averaging out at one every eighteen months is quite good going, considering how expensive they are and how much I get cut off each time. No hairdresser has ever made a profit from me!! I think my eldest sister is partly to blame for that time she decided to give me "a trim" when I was about 12 and cut my hair from just past my bum to just above my shoulderblades. My mother takes the rest of the blame for cutting my eyelid one time when she decided to cut my fringe. She was more hysterical than I was, in fairness. But still. Bad memories. And I hate people messing with my hair, it makes me claustrophobic. So, all in all, hairdressing salons are not the type of place I would ever willingly frequent. On reflection it was quite a good cut, however, I have no idea what on earth she was thinking when she styled it, I genuinely looked as though I'd just fallen out of bed. It was awful. Luckily it had dropped quite a lot by the time I had to go out in public so I didn't feel too bad. Now all I need to do is get it dyed tonight and I might start looking like my old self again. Well. Like my old self who's just eaten a whole person. But still, you get the idea.
So getting a haircut and finding out I'd put on weight all in the space of one day didn't, as you can imagine, put me in the best of moods. Such a shame. I had a brilliant day on Monday, now I'm a miserable old sod again. Ah well. I knew it wouldn't last.
This weekend I am going on an adventure with my lovely pal Helena to Liverpool, best city in the world and home of the best football team in the history of the game. Also home to Liverpool FC. Sorry about that, folks. But to make up for it, we did give the world The Beatles.
Join me on Monday when I will give you the gossip from the weekend and take a look toward the week ahead. Whatever you're up to over the next couple of days, have a lovely time, take care of yourselves and remember - if you're going to get on a pair of scales, make sure you have an empty bladder first...!!
Wednesday, 18 January 2012
Am I Thin Yet?!
No. No, I'm not.
Therein lies the pain in all of this. It's all very well and good having a positive attitude, tensing myself skinny and visualising myself looking like I've just stepped off Carnaby Street in 1965 - but then I look down. Is it August yet? Have I lost enough dress sizes to walk into New Look* without getting stared at?! Can I even begin to entertain a hope of walking into River Island* without the skinny bint behind the counter batting an eyelid?!
No. No, it isn't. And no. I haven't. In all fairness, I know I'm not the most patient of people. Not even with myself. In fact, especially not with myself. I'm a grump-bag and the first to admit it, but I probably get the worst end of it.
It's only been a fortnight!! It's an epic diet, not a flippin' miracle cure! I really need to calm down and not freak out. I'll be settled into it in the next couple of weeks and hopefully not even think about it too much. Patience. It's a virtue. Allegedly. But I do need to work on it otherwise I'll just send myself doolally. Despite what Peter Kay may have said, it is impossible to lose 14 stone in one day!!! Wish it wasn't, though. That'd help!!
I've already got into smaller trousers. Not much smaller, I grant you, and they're still a bit tight. Also, the trousers I'd shrunk out of and into are probably unreliably sized - I categorically do not trust supermarket sizes. I don't know anyone who can buy their relevant sized clothing from a supermarket and fit into it comfortably. Even a pal of mine I used to work with who is tiny used to buy at least one size bigger in Asda than she would buy if she was in a high street shop. So it's not just a weird excuse invented by the larger person to make them feel thinner. When 99% of your clothes are one size and one pair of trousers is another, I think it's safe to say that the trousers are wrong and not you.
I don't feel thinner. This time last week I felt like I'd lost weight. I don't have that this week. Which is horrible, because if anything I've tried even harder this week. I know I'll find out tomorrow one way or another, but what if I've stayed the same, or worse yet, put weight on? If I have done I really won't know why. Am I going to feel this distressed every week in the run up to Thursday?! I flippin' hope not. I've got other things to worry about.
This is not the time to start panicking. The time to start panicking is when I get to the middle of May and I still haven't lost anything. Which won't happen. But what if it does?!
So, then. There's only one thing left to do.
Gimme an E. Gimme an X. Gimme an E. Gimme an R. Gimme a C. Gimme an I. Gimme an S. Gimme an E. What does it spell?
No, really - what does it spell?!?? It's years since I've given it a second's thought!!
That's right, folks. The dreaded E word, which for so long has been regarded as swearing in my world. It's got to be done. Eventually I will join a gym. I will. I know I'm the least athletic person in the world but I actually really like the gym. It's my kind of thing. It's non-contact, there are no teams to be picked for last (after the dustbin at the other end of the playground), you can get your favourite 60s choons on your music-playing device, ignore everyone and people will bog off and leave you to get on with it. Gyms are great for the anti-social would-be recluse. Odd as it sounds, I am a fan of them.
Unfortunately, at the moment I'm a bit skint and I'd quite like to wait until I've already lost a bit of weight before I go - mostly so that it'll be easier to find suitable clothes to exercise in. So, I need to think of something else to do. Luckily, I think I've hit upon a plan.
The Six O'Clock Boogie is still a valid idea and when I finally get round to making myself a decent 60s dance CD and clearing a suitable space in my bedroom I will definitely get on with that. There is also the Skip-It.
For those of you who were children in the early 90s, you might remember these things. There's a ball on one end of a rope and a hoop at the other end. You put the hoop around your ankle and spin the rope round, then skip over the rope when it gets to your free leg. It requires quite a technique and definitely burns up quite a lot of energy. If you get a good enough space you can do it in the living room while watching The Champions (or any other 60s TV show you might have a box set of!). It was my favourite thing when I was eight. I was great at it. My little feet were blurry, I used to go so fast!! I've searched all over t'internet for one and have finally found a site that sells them. Apparently they're still closed over Christmas (who closes for a month at Christmas?!), but they reopen next week. So after pay day I think I shall invest in one.
I've got to do something. Last week proved to me that the Slimming World thing works whether you exercise or not. Legend has it that it just works *better* if you exercise as well. I'll try it out. I want to feel thinner every week and not panic that I'm not doing it right.
Join me again on Friday when hopefully I shall be feeling a little less neurotic and will be able to report back to you on Week 3 at Fat Club. There will either be whoops of jubilation or guttural cries of anguish. But there won't be a trail of empty chocolate wrappers in my wake. Definitely not this time. I'm serious about it, now!!
*There are other high street shops available. And I likely won't shop in either of them after I've lost weight anyway, on principle!
Therein lies the pain in all of this. It's all very well and good having a positive attitude, tensing myself skinny and visualising myself looking like I've just stepped off Carnaby Street in 1965 - but then I look down. Is it August yet? Have I lost enough dress sizes to walk into New Look* without getting stared at?! Can I even begin to entertain a hope of walking into River Island* without the skinny bint behind the counter batting an eyelid?!
No. No, it isn't. And no. I haven't. In all fairness, I know I'm not the most patient of people. Not even with myself. In fact, especially not with myself. I'm a grump-bag and the first to admit it, but I probably get the worst end of it.
It's only been a fortnight!! It's an epic diet, not a flippin' miracle cure! I really need to calm down and not freak out. I'll be settled into it in the next couple of weeks and hopefully not even think about it too much. Patience. It's a virtue. Allegedly. But I do need to work on it otherwise I'll just send myself doolally. Despite what Peter Kay may have said, it is impossible to lose 14 stone in one day!!! Wish it wasn't, though. That'd help!!
I've already got into smaller trousers. Not much smaller, I grant you, and they're still a bit tight. Also, the trousers I'd shrunk out of and into are probably unreliably sized - I categorically do not trust supermarket sizes. I don't know anyone who can buy their relevant sized clothing from a supermarket and fit into it comfortably. Even a pal of mine I used to work with who is tiny used to buy at least one size bigger in Asda than she would buy if she was in a high street shop. So it's not just a weird excuse invented by the larger person to make them feel thinner. When 99% of your clothes are one size and one pair of trousers is another, I think it's safe to say that the trousers are wrong and not you.
I don't feel thinner. This time last week I felt like I'd lost weight. I don't have that this week. Which is horrible, because if anything I've tried even harder this week. I know I'll find out tomorrow one way or another, but what if I've stayed the same, or worse yet, put weight on? If I have done I really won't know why. Am I going to feel this distressed every week in the run up to Thursday?! I flippin' hope not. I've got other things to worry about.
This is not the time to start panicking. The time to start panicking is when I get to the middle of May and I still haven't lost anything. Which won't happen. But what if it does?!
So, then. There's only one thing left to do.
Gimme an E. Gimme an X. Gimme an E. Gimme an R. Gimme a C. Gimme an I. Gimme an S. Gimme an E. What does it spell?
No, really - what does it spell?!?? It's years since I've given it a second's thought!!
That's right, folks. The dreaded E word, which for so long has been regarded as swearing in my world. It's got to be done. Eventually I will join a gym. I will. I know I'm the least athletic person in the world but I actually really like the gym. It's my kind of thing. It's non-contact, there are no teams to be picked for last (after the dustbin at the other end of the playground), you can get your favourite 60s choons on your music-playing device, ignore everyone and people will bog off and leave you to get on with it. Gyms are great for the anti-social would-be recluse. Odd as it sounds, I am a fan of them.
Unfortunately, at the moment I'm a bit skint and I'd quite like to wait until I've already lost a bit of weight before I go - mostly so that it'll be easier to find suitable clothes to exercise in. So, I need to think of something else to do. Luckily, I think I've hit upon a plan.
The Six O'Clock Boogie is still a valid idea and when I finally get round to making myself a decent 60s dance CD and clearing a suitable space in my bedroom I will definitely get on with that. There is also the Skip-It.
For those of you who were children in the early 90s, you might remember these things. There's a ball on one end of a rope and a hoop at the other end. You put the hoop around your ankle and spin the rope round, then skip over the rope when it gets to your free leg. It requires quite a technique and definitely burns up quite a lot of energy. If you get a good enough space you can do it in the living room while watching The Champions (or any other 60s TV show you might have a box set of!). It was my favourite thing when I was eight. I was great at it. My little feet were blurry, I used to go so fast!! I've searched all over t'internet for one and have finally found a site that sells them. Apparently they're still closed over Christmas (who closes for a month at Christmas?!), but they reopen next week. So after pay day I think I shall invest in one.
I've got to do something. Last week proved to me that the Slimming World thing works whether you exercise or not. Legend has it that it just works *better* if you exercise as well. I'll try it out. I want to feel thinner every week and not panic that I'm not doing it right.
Join me again on Friday when hopefully I shall be feeling a little less neurotic and will be able to report back to you on Week 3 at Fat Club. There will either be whoops of jubilation or guttural cries of anguish. But there won't be a trail of empty chocolate wrappers in my wake. Definitely not this time. I'm serious about it, now!!
*There are other high street shops available. And I likely won't shop in either of them after I've lost weight anyway, on principle!
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