The Weight of the Situation

So I've re-applied for my llama licence.  I had to.  I got a postcard from Miguel (I dunno how he managed it due to the lack of his opposable thumbs, but I didn't like to split hairs with him over it) saying that him and Ricardo are broke and can't find work.  There are too many Llama Dancing Troupes in Bolivia and they aren't considered a novelty act over there any more.  Javier left the troupe (I know, he was everyone's favourite) after an incident with one of the girl llamas in the local theatre and so they're all pretty down on their luck and want to come home as soon as possible.  Ricardo's everyday legwarmers went threadbare about six months ago and he's been wearing his gold sparkle ones for the past three weeks which are starting to look a bit grubby.  There are no local launderettes and Ricardo's nerves are like piano wires due to the fact he has to walk the streets of Bolivia wearing dirty legwarmers.  

It was a very large postcard, that's how he managed to fit so much information on it.

For those of you new to my blog, I'd best explain that I am the proud owner of an invisible and completely imaginary troupe of dancing llamas who put on a fiesta for me every week during 2012 when I was losing weight.  They've had a year off travelling around the world (although they finally settled in Bolivia) and going on adventures but now they're just about ready to come home.  

This morning I weighed myself for the first time in fifteen months.  It's an inaccuracy to say it was 'difficult', because it was actually remarkably easy - I just stood on a pair of scales and tried to think thin thoughts.  The build-up, however, was a little daunting.  Scales and I have never been friends.  They have never said anything nice to me.  Of all the plus sides associated with losing weight, stepping on a pair of scales every week was never something I had missed.  Part of me secretly hoped that I hadn't really put any weight on at all and that someone had just blown me up with a foot-pump in the night when I wasn't looking.  Another part of me worried that I'd put at least eight stone on (112 lbs, for the benefit of my American readers).  But I knew that if I was ever going to get anywhere, then I'd need to take a deep breath and get back on the scales, so as soon as I'd woken up and while I was too tired to talk myself out of it, I weighed myself.

It was pretty much as I'd expected.  I've put every single gram of weight back on - plus one pound for good luck.  So I am more or less exactly where I started (after all, when you weigh the same as an entire rugby league squad, what's an extra pound between friends?!) two years ago.  Which, actually, is a really good thing.  The slate is completely wiped clean.  I can start completely afresh.  I know what mistakes I made last time, I know how quickly the weight came off last time so I won't get as impatient with myself.  I know what to be aware of and I know not to be afraid that losing weight won't ever happen, because I know it will.

I'm back to Square One - but this time I've got one up on myself from last time.  This isn't new ground.  I've got this.  I've done this, I've been here.  And now I know exactly where I'm going...

**********Cue theme music to Rocky**********

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...!!

Keep On Keeping On

There is a double celebration of fiesta-ing today in the Diary, and a good job too.  The llamas have had three weeks off and Enrique has started panicking that if they have any more time off, their muscles will all seize up and they'll never be able to do those high-kicks again.

To mark the glorious occasion, they've decided on a very spectacular stunt.  Miguel has bravely offered to be a llama cannonball!!  Ricardo has designed a lovely red sparkly cape for the occasion. It'll be the finale sequence to the fiesta and I'm sure it'll be a breathtaking sight!

The first reason I'm celebrating is, after a week off and not really following the diet strictly at all - it turns out I've lost a whopping FOUR POUNDS!!!  I'm now just 1 1/2 lbs off having lost 3 1/2 stone!!  For those still keeping track, I've lost 47 1/2 lbs in 23 weeks.  Which is still quite good going.

*AAARRRRIIIIBBAAAAAA!!!!!!*

The second reason for celebration is that I have actually managed to get tickets to see Michael Nesmith - after a very dramatic turn of events this morning.  It nearly didn't happen at all - but eventually I got two seats.  They're back row, I grant you, and when I had the possibilty of seats in the third row at first, it does sting somwhat, but there are only 12 rows in total, the venue only seats 460, and I think the hall is laid out in such a way that there's really no such thing as a bad seat.  I mightn't get to see every whisker on his face but I'll certainly know it's the right fella.

WOOOOOOOHHHHOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

*dances round like a mad eejit*

133 sleeps, apparently.  According to my calculations, there were 136 but I'm reliably informed there are only 133.  This is very exciting news.  I just hope by then I'll be as close as possible to my target size.  I've got four and a half months to lose three dress sizes.  I think I can do it.  I hope so.  Even two would be great!! 

Anyway, back to Slimming World.  My mum joined last night!!  This is great news.  Partly because I get in next week free for introducing someone.  I really hope she makes a good job of it.  She only wants to lose the same amount I've already lost.  And I've managed it so she can definitely do it.  Hell's teeth, she's had five kids, losing a bit of weight isn't going to cause any problems!!!  Apparently Andrea the Consultant kept telling mum (and the other newbies) to listen to what I told her because I'm doing so well.  How embarrassing!!!  I wish Mum hadn't told me, I'm not a fan of all this attention. 

I'm so excited I really don't have the brain to type any more.  Let's see The Llama Cannonball in action for the big finale to end this very exciting and hysterical blog!!

.............

.....................................

...................................................................................

*wince*

Ricardo, you really ought to check that you're not firing that thing off anywhere near a wall....

*sigh*  We're a llama down, ladies and gentlemen, but don't worry, it isn't fatal - he just needs a good rest and he'll be right as rain soon.

Join me next week, when hopefully I'll have calmed down slightly, and I'll give you an update on Miguel's progress.  Hooves crossed he's well on the mend by then!!

Harmony Constant

I don't think this will really get it out of my system, but here it is anyway:

29 OCTOBER!!  SOMEWHERE IN MANCHESTER!!!  ROBERT MICHAEL NESMITH!!!!  AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I found out the news via Milton Keynes' finest export first thing this morning.  Normally I'm a miserable old sod of a morning.  I don't do conversation, I don't do eye contact and I certainly cannot smile before at least my second coffee.  But this morning was different.  The overcast drizzly British summertime morning seemed bright and breezy.  A song filled my heart, my eyes brightened, the smile on my face spread from ear to ear. 

Needless to say, the first thing I did when I arrived in work was book the time off.  It's happening.  It's finally happening.  Me.  Nesmith.  Same airspace.  In the words of Dusty Springfield - I just don't know what to do with myself.  I'm so excited it's beyond ridiculous.  I'm already trying to decide what to wear and realising that I might just be at my target size by October and I don't know how well I can cope with the dual excitement of Nesmith AND skinniness...

I need to link my excitement over the forthcoming Nesmith gig to a recant of my adventures at the weekend.  And I can't do that in a particularly smooth manner.  So... er... I won't.

I went to see Westlife on Saturday with my pal Sue.  She's a huge fan and was so upset that they'd announced they were splitting up before she'd had chance to see them live in concert that she thought 'to hell with it' and ordered two tickets, she didn't care where they were.  They weren't together, but they were on the same row - and I, in an unselfish act of kindness *removes tongue from cheek*, agreed to go with her to save her husband the trauma of spending the evening in a room with 16,000 screaming women.  Which is understandable.

They were actually very good.  Of course, I've liked them since they won the Smash Hits! Pollwinners Best New Act as Westside in 1998, and I used to be absolutely mad about them until around about their third album when I just became far too 60s for anything modern at all.  It also sort of coincided with the time they started to be marketed as a sort of Housewives' Choice act and, well, I'm not a housewife so I suppose I'm not the target audience any more.  I went to see them on their first arena tour back in 1999 (I think), when they were just another boy band as the boy band trend was dying out - and 90% of the audience was made up of 13 year old girls, and they were pretty good then, but naturally, over the years they've just gone from strength to strength and are genuinely a very good live act.  Vocally they're all absolutely spot on and their crowd interaction was brilliant. 

Everyone had a good night.  It was pretty emotional for them, it was their last gig as a group in Manchester.  I suppose it must be a bit weird if you've been doing the same job since you were 18/19 and then you get to 32 and decide it's time for a change - this tour is sort of them working their notice period.  Must be really bizarre for them. 

They did, however, at one point do a cover of 'Don't Cha' by The Pussycat Dolls.  I think the phrase "least said, soonest mended" would apply here.  I don't think the reaction they were after was hysterical laughter, and I'm not proud of myself for it, but it was hilarious in all the wrong ways.  Just... no.  Really.  Just.  No.  Someone will have put it on YouTube by now, and I'd recommend you take a look just for the comedy factor.  Which I have a feeling wasn't quite intentional.

All in all, though, it was a great night, they did very well.  It's strange that it's all over.  It's like they were the last of the great boy bands of the 90s (anyone who is of the mindset 'there were no great boy bands of the 90s' is simply wrong - the 90s were the decade of the boy band, it's like saying there were no great beat groups of the 60s!!).  There's quite a large chapter of my teenage years that's been closed by their breakup.  I'm not sad or upset or anything, it's just a bit sort of... strange.  Still.  Onwards and upwards.  They'll probably get back together for a reunion tour in five years anyway!!

I have no news on the weight loss front.  I'm pretty much back on it now - I discovered yesterday that I'm drinking far too much diet coke and it's made me a bit poorly, so I've quit that.  Herbal teas and water all the way it is, then.  Serves me right, of course.  If I'd only been sensible in my eating and drinking habits in the first place I wouldn't be in this situation now.  Still, if I didn't need to lose weight, I wouldn't have started this blog and what would you have to while 10-15 minutes of your day away with?!  Exactly.  You're welcome!!

Join me again on Wednesday when I might've calmed down slightly from the Most Awesome News Ever In My Life.  But don't count on it...!

Guess Who's Back...

Hello, hello, hello!!

I'm sorry I failed on the blogging front last week.  Last week was horrible.  Please can we pretend it didn't happen?  That would totally work for me.  I know the whole purpose of the blog was to be some sort of personal therapy when times got tough as well as the chroncling of joys and euphoria when times were good - but there are reasonable limits to everything.  My head is feeling really rather screwed up at the moment.  Life with the Wainwrights just hasn't been the kind of thing anyone would want to blog about for the last seven days.

Aside from the stuff you don't want to know about, on Thursday's weigh-in it turned out that I had put half a pound on.  The llamas were extremely disappointed.  I didn't pack them off to Magaluf again this week, but Enrique did say that if I have a good result this week he'd choreograph an extra special fiesta for me.  What more incentive do I need?!

My slimming mojo seems to have vanished since the Debacle of the Scales.  It's ridiculous.  I know it's only a little thing but it's really just thrown me off-balance - no pun intended.  Just when I'd finally started to think I could really do this and I could finally start looking like a person rather than an orb with feet, it was a huge knock I wasn't prepared for.  Andrea the Consultant has got a lot to answer for.  I am seriously lacking in confidence now, and being slimmer now feels more like a pipe dream again than the achievable goal it had started to become. 

I'm not going to get my target of reaching my half-way point by my birthday.  Or at least, if I do, it'll be a miracle.  I know that now, and I suppose knowing that has taken a bit of pressure off, but the best I can do is to try and get as close to it as possible by then.  I've still got three weigh-ins to go.  Who knows.  It might happen.  I'm being really tough this week.  I've got 3 1/2 lbs to go before I get my 3 stone boxed off and if I don't do it this week - or certainly the week after, I'll be completely gutted. 

On the plus side, everyone buy my best friend Nathan's album when it comes out in a couple of weeks.  Not only is he incredibly talented, makes amazing music and is, indeed, my favourite man since creation - I wrote the liner notes!!!  Wahoo!  I knew I'd see my name in print somewhere this year.  Now I just need to get rid of this fershlugginer Writer's Block on The Phantom Winger.  I've been advised to write the end first.  I don't know how I feel about this, I think it might be a bad idea.  Although I might start from mid-way in the third chapter, I'm only about five or six paragraphs away from breaking the block. 

Actually, you know what, first of all I think I just want the world to stop spinning so flipping quickly for five minutes and let me get my head together before I go any further with anything...!!

"...You Won't Like Me When I'm Angry..."

You do not know - you cannot possibly even begin to comprehend how much I was looking forward to yesterday, because I can't put that much excitement into words.  I've been counting down the sleeps since about 60.  I never thought that longed-for day would ever arrive, but then yesterday, it did. 

The Avengers - Earth's Mightiest Heroes - finally Assembled.  The sister and I went to the epicentre of small-town Lancashire, if not the universe (Preston), to see it.  More on that later.  I know I said I wouldn't turn into an hysterical wreck, but... to be honest, I had no other cause for celebration.  There were plans for Southport but, despite me having such very high hopes for the day, not much turned out as planned.

I left work early so I could go to the 5:30p.m. weigh in and then go to Southport with Jo for a nice bit of a nosh-up at Nandos pre-film.  But I hadn't reckoned on rush hour traffic on Golden Hill Lane in Leyland.  My plans were ruined, so we decided that I'd get weighed early for the 7:30p.m. weigh in and we'd go to Preston instead and get KFC - it's the only savoury thing I've really craved and I haven't had it since last June when I went to see X-Men First Class.  And as last week's plan of overindulging didn't go to plan, I thought I'd definitely be able to sin like mad with some well-deserved fast food.

I turned up at the Church Hall at about 7:20p.m. all full of hope - and was a bit peturbed to find that there was uproar in the group.  Trouble at t'Mill, you might say.  Everyone was angry.  There was shouting, there was a lot of, "This is a [flipping] joke!"  There was even a bit of, "That's it, I'm not wasting my time on this [nonsense] any more!  Forget it!  Shove your [blooming] weight loss regime!" It's a family-friendly blog, I had to censor the level of uproar!

I was, quite frankly, puzzled.  Normally our group is very cheerful and happy and nobody's too grumpy at all.  It's all really quite chilled out.  Everyone usually has a bit of a giggle if they put weight on.  Last night, however, was different.  Quite, quite different.  It looked like there was going to be a riot of some sort.

When I got to the weigh-in point, I asked the lady at the scales what was going on, and it turned out that Andrea the Consultant, in her infinite wisdom, had decided that the scales she's been using since time immemorial were weighing too light and so she'd bought new ones, which were weighing a bit heavy - so everyone had seemed to put weight on.  The lady before me had apparently put 6 1/2 lbs on.  There was fury.  Real, proper anger. 

I crossed my fingers, hoped for the best and got on the scales.

Apparently, despite the fact I'd done nothing differently during the past seven days and had eaten sensibly, done a bit of exercise and generally followed the same procedure that I have always done - I've put 3lbs on.

This is a nonsense.  The red mist officially descended.  I was livid.  My blood pressure almost hit 200.  I might've gone green, shot up in height and turned into an inarticulate rage monster.  I very very nearly did.  I ranted, I raved, I pointed out that we depend on the accuracy of the scales and we all spend good money each week on making sure that the equipment we need is there for us.  Even if the scales themselves were inaccurate, the increments of weight loss should be reliable.  Then I stormed out with some women who said they would never again darken the doorstep. 

I just said I was going to the pictures and was quite noncommital about my proposed whereabouts for next week.  I still don't know what to do.

Psychologically, she's done a really stupid thing to everyone.  She has two classes and all members of both groups were furious with her - and I would feel sorry for her, but why would you do that to people?  I mean, why?  Seriously.  But there's nothing we can do about it, she's not likely to change the scales back, and even if she did - next week wouldn't read right either because we've already been weighed on a different pair of scales.  Basically - the thing not to do when you're a slimming consultant, I think, is to change from a pair of scales that allegdly 'weigh light' to a pair of scales that clearly 'weigh heavy' without giving anyone any prior warning.  Just saying.

I know it only sounds like a little thing, but it isn't to me.  I mean, I have worked really hard for this, and so's Jo with all her genius cooking, and so have all of you just by encouraging me to keep going and it really feels like the one person who shouldn't have pulled the rug from under me has done.  It's like the goalposts have been moved on her whim, that whatever achievement I've celebrated I haven't been entitled to because the scales were wrong all along.  I genuinely don't know what to think now.  At this stage I'm really not sure if I want to go back to that group or not.  It isn't just me she's let down, it's everybody.  There will be a lot of grumpy fat people in Leyland today.  More than usual.

Needless to say, I came home and immediately sent the llamas off for a well deserved break to Magaluf.  Ricardo was very excited, Miguel decided he'd take fashion tips from Javier (the quiet one) and buy a bandana while he's out there, and Enrique had a panic attack because he didn't have time to do any practice packing.  They'll need the rest.  Perhaps they'll be back next week.

So, after bursting into tears and contemplating a longish trip to the roof of Argos followed by a short one down, we went to the cinema via KFC.  I could practically feel my arteries hardening when I ordered!  I didn't feel too bad.  I had Diet Coke with it.  Anyway.  It was lovely and I really wasn't in the mood to think about my waistline. 

The one thing I won't do is give away any spoilers for the film.  Seriously.  None.  Not even non-plot related ones.  All I'll say is this.  I read practically every single article, watched every single interview, watched all the trailers, all the preview scenes, and generally obsessed like a loony over the film before it was released.  When I did finally get to see it, nothing that I'd previously seen or read prepared me for it.  It was absolutely incredible.  There were thrills, spills, action, adventure, drama, some real belly laughs and a couple of really quite emotional moments.  There were so many geeky comic book references, I was absolutely delighted.  I developed an instant girl crush on Black Widow.  She's just... Agh.  I want to be her when I grow up.  Or even just one tenth as kick-ass. 

The one character I really wasn't looking forward to seeing was The Incredible Hulk.  Not because I don't like him - I mean, a geeky scientific genius who happens to be notoriously grumpy, what's not to like about that?!  But Edward Norton is my favourite actor of the modern age (James Stewart is my actual favourite actor of all time), and he has been for about 15 years, and it isn't because he's rather easy on the eye, it's because even though I haven't always liked all the films he's been in (take my advice, never watch a film called Down in the Valley.  You won't get those two hours back!), I've always believed completely in every performance he's ever given.  He's just an exceptionally talented man.  I absolutely adored his performance as Bruce Banner in the last incarnation of The Incredible Hulk, and I was so gutted that he wasn't going to reprise that role in the Avengers that I really wasn't interested in whatever anyone else thought they might have to bring to the role.  My attitude was very narrow-minded and sort of, "Huh!  Mark Ruffalo?  Who is he anyway?  He's no Norton!  He'll be rubbish.  What the hell are Marvel playing at?!" etc etc.  Well.  I well and truly had my words forced back down my throat during the film.  He was an absolute revalation, and, I have to admit it, he was actually far better than Edward Norton. 

(If anyone was wondering when I was going to mention him - hell yes, it seriously is ALL about Hawkeye...  *gazes off distractedly*)

Seriously, if you've been looking forward to it, forget absolutely all of your preconceptions and think bigger.  It's like no superhero film you've ever seen before.  I'm going to completely go out on a limb here and say it's my favourite ever superhero film, and by that I do include my beloved Spider-Man 2.  It's more than just a great superhero film, it's simply a great film.  There's something in it for everyone.  It's amazing. 

So, join me next week, when I should have calmed down from the hysteria of the film, and the red mist from the ridiculous weigh-in should have lifted by then too, when I'm sure I'll find something else to talk about...!!

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!!

Happy Hump Day!

Hands up anyone who isn't feeling good about tomorrow night's weigh-in?

Anyone??

Anyone???

Anyone????

Just me, then. 

I don't understand it.  This week has been a very skint week in Wainwright Mansions, and as a result, I haven't really eaten very much of anything.  Breakfast has been minimal.  Lunch has been merely a token.  Tea has been a much more pleasant affair, in all honesty, but still.  There's not really been much of anything to overindulge in.  And trust me, this week I would happily have overindulged in paper if it was classed as a superspeed food!!  Gah!  So hungry.  Constantly.  Adolescent type hungry. 

So, despite the fact that I haven't quite noshed like a lord this week, even though I could have - I still somehow have managed to feel very bloated and uncomfortable.  I can tell I've put weight on.  I can feel that roll of fat I lost a couple fo weeks ago simply clawing its way back onto my person.  I must be the only human on earth who can eat less and put weight on.

All will be revealed tomorrow, undoubtedly.  But don't hold your breath.  For a start, your face will go a funny colour.

So.  It's Wednesday.  That can only mean one thing - it's Masterchef tonight, guest starring the most aptly-named chef of all time - Tom Kitchin.  I know, really, I didn't believe it either, at first.  Imagine if he'd done anything else.  People would be dead confused.  There's a Japanese girl on it who is some sort of scientific genius, apparently she's got a degree in Quantum Physics or something equally scary sounding, and she is absolutely as batty as Dracula at a Twilight party.  I think the lovely John Torode has got a bit of a soft spot for her as well.  I'm not too sure how sensible it is to watch cookery shows that glamourise things like cream, butter, flour and deep frying shizz while one is on a diet, but... well.  I haven't put any weight on just by looking at any of the puddings *yet*...!!

Slimming World have apparently started up a new incentive called Let's Beat Obesity.  I'm sure we'll hear all about it tomorrow but I think it's some sort of 12-week booster program.  When they did the initiative last year, apparently Slimming World members in the UK and Ireland lost over 3,000,000 lbs altogether!!  12 weeks is a good enough length of time.  That'll take us to... what... probably the end of May.  Who knows - perhaps it'll be just the thing to take my rather stilted weight loss to the next level??  I'll keep you all posted about that.  Sounds pretty interesting so far.

Join me on Friday for an excited look towards my fun-filled Olly Murs Weekend in Manchester with the big sister and her pals from work.  I will also provide a full report of my adventures at the weigh-in, and I'll let you know if the llamas have been let out of their stable this week.  I do have some freshly-laundered leg warmers on standby, just in case... 

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!

Back to the Grindstone.... Thankfully!!

You know what the worst thing is for a new eating regime?  Weekends!

Honestly.  During the week you totally know where you're at on the 'keeping on the straight and narrow' front.  You throw some semblance of breakfast down your neck, you go to work, you have your lunch, you go back to work, you come home, you have your tea - it's all absolutely fine.  You don't even really need to think about it.

Weekends - where's the structure?!  There isn't any!!  ARGH!!  I like knowing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing and when I'm supposed to eat and what I'm supposed to be eating at that particular time so I don't end up overeating.  I know this sounds ridiculous.  I'm a reasonably intelligent adult and I shouldn't need to be told all of these things or have mealtimes dictated to me.  However, the simple fact is, I do.

My poor sister has had the weekend from hell and it has largely been due to me and my hysteria over food.  I have been some sort of not-so-lean, extremely mean eating machine over the last 48 hours, somewhat akin to Miss Pacman's identical psychotic twin sister.  Admittedly, everything I have eaten (more or less) has been Free Food and so technically according to the rules of Slimming World I haven't been 'overeating' as it were, but every time I get so much as a twinge in the intestinal area I immediately mistake it for a hunger pain and just keep hearing Andrea the Consultant's words reverberating round my head "if you get hungry, you aren't doing it right".  So, whether it's a piece of fruit or some salad or whatever, as soon as I've even thought I might be hungry, I've eaten something. 

Blasted Andrea the Consultant!!  I wish she hadn't said that!! My poor sister is being driven completely round the twist by me.  I have been vile this weekend.  Not even I've liked me.  So, before I tell you about Sunday night, I'd just like to take this opportunity to apologise profusely and wholeheartedly to my long-suffering sister, Jo. Although I will still probably get freaked out a little bit from time to time while I'm on this thing, I promise I will try a lot harder to keep my head and concentrate on things other than food.  I've been so busy concentrating on not freaking out that I didn't realise quite how completely I had freaked out.  I have been bang out of order, and I'm sorry.

Sunday night was lovely. It was my pals' 20th wedding anniversary and their daughter had organised a surprise party at a nearby Indian restaurant.  Audrey and John were sufficiently surprised and everyone had a lovely time.  It was really nice to see some people I hadn't seen in ages and to have a really good laugh with everyone.  One of my pals I was sat with is also on Slimming World - seems like the world and its auntie has joined up this year.  There's a bunch of them that go on a Tuesday morning.  I don't know how I'd feel about that.  In a way it'd be nice to have someone to go with to stop me from thinking "I won't go this week" but to be honest I really like the anonymity of nobody knowing me and keeping myself to myself. 

I'd been really good all day and only eaten Free Food because Indian food is chock full of Syns and although I knew I'd go over the requisite 15 Syns I wanted to put as much damage control into place as possible, so I also chose Free stuff like Diet Coke instead of beer and chose boiled rice instead of pilau rice.  Mightn't sound much but it really does add up.  I still think I probably had at least double the amount of Syns I would normally have had (I think I can more or less work it out from the book), but it's Monday again, yesterday is over - back to knuckling down and getting on with it.  It's a marathon, not a sprint, after all.  Although after all this, if I go on Thursday night and I've lost nothing (or worse yet, put it on), I genuinely do not know what I'm going to do with myself.  I'd jump off a cliff but I'm scared of heights!

No, don't be daft, of course I won't do anything that drastic.  I'm too lazy!!

I have quite a few things to do this week - boring things that have no place in a blog, so I may not post again until Wednesdsay.  I'll be talking about the plans for Chapter Two of the book and how the first draft of that is coming along, and I'll also have a look forward to my second weigh-in at Slimming World on Thursday night.