Yesterday was okay. The test itself wasn't remotely difficult, all I had to do was just lie down and have flashing lights in my eyes for fifteen minutes and then breathe like Darth Vader during hayfever season for three minutes and then they let me have a kip. Staying awake for twenty-four hours prior to that, however, was pretty tough going. Between half past two and half past three I felt ridiculously hyper, between four and six I thought I was going crazy and felt like my eyeballs were going to fall out of their sockets. The worst part was the car journey to the hospital, I couldn't keep my eyes open!! I must've looked dreadful. I certainly felt like I'd died three weeks earlier and my body was just in the process of catching up with me...
When it finally came to the time the nurse let me sleep, and how I managed to stay awake through the rest of the test is still beyond me, as luck would have it - no sooner did I close my eyes than the workmen outside thought it'd be a great idea to start drilling the pavement. Not even a euphemism. Still, after approximately 28 hours, even if they'd started drilling in the exam room I wouldn't have noticed, I was out like a light for fifteen glorious minutes. Sigh. It was great.
Anyway, that's all over now and hopefully I won't have to do it again.
But today was my second weigh-in after a week of generally being good and refusing yummy stuff and being completely sober, I hopped back on the scales, waiting to see how I'd done. The llamas got their new leg-warmers on especially for the occasion, ready at any moment to put on the fiesta of all fiestas. I crossed my fingers, I thought thin thoughts, I said the magic words "Please don't let me put any weight on...!" and then looked at the number on the scales...
It was exactly the same. Exactly. To the ounce. Absolutely nothing had altered.
Positives: Hey, at least I didn't put any on!
Negatives: WTF?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!! What is the point in life?!!? Nothing is worth anything!! I AM POINTLESS!!! I should just die now and save the NHS time and expense on treating any future weight-related health issues!!!! *sob*
After having a mini-breakdown and writing seven different versions of a suicide note, I told my Mum when she came to visit. She said she'd been weighed the previous day and hopped on the scales to see what it said about her. If they're to be believed she put half a stone on in less than 24 hours... Then she said that the scales were actually third-hand and not very good.
So.... erm... Well, the llamas haven't done a fiesta today because we're all scratching our heads in confusion.
I'm changing the scales and getting weighed again tomorrow so I can start all over again. So the llamas will have an extra week to work on their routine. It will be spectacular. Or at least it should be.
Flippin' scales. They do have a habit of spoiling people's day. But they won't do next week!!!
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ranting. Show all posts
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
Monday, 23 July 2012
Starting All Over Again
I know it's been ages, but I've really had very little indeed to report on the weight loss front.
Although...
On July 5th (exactly 6 months after I first stepped on the scales) I managed to hit my half-way target of 3 1/2 stones. In fact I got just over my half way point, and all I needed was to lose another 5lbs in 5 weeks in order to hit my 4 stone mark. Then the boredom set in. And when it set, it stuck good and proper.
I don't know why, when I'd worked so hard over the last six months, I suddenly decided it would be a fabulous idea to go completely off the rails because I couldn't be bothered keeping on the straight and narrow. Yes, because getting halfway there totally means you're allowed to give yourself a week or two off, just because you 'can't be bothered'!!
No, actually, I shouldn't be allowed to give myself two weeks off 'just because' yet. I've not done anything yet. Halfway does not count. I've been here before. I've been halfway, and I've always fallen into this trap and the weight has piled straight back on and I'm back to where I was before I know it. I haven't done anything to congratulate myself for yet. I'm not taking away from the fact that it's been a long hard slog to get this far. And I know that losing over 3 1/2 stones in six months is an achievement, and I'm not really detracting from that. But it isn't the target. It isn't where I want to be.
You don't see people training for marathons giving themselves a few weeks off from training after they finally manage to run for thirteen miles solid, do you? Exactly. I haven't made it yet, I've got no reason to start messing around and giving myself lame excuses to fall off the wagon. So what if I've had a tough day at work? That doesn't instantly mean that I have to have a few large glasses of something interesting. It's not going to make my tough day any less tough. It's just a bunch of extra Syns that I don't actually need and that will only serve to make me feel guilty for a lapse in motivation.
Perhaps, and the thought did occur to me earlier last week, I've really never known myself this size. It feels weird. I look in the mirror now and I only see two chins, rather than 50. I saw my collar bone when I looked in the mirror the other week. It was just, y'know, there. I genuinely panicked for a few moments and thought there was a tumour growing below my neck, until I realised what it was!! My shoulders have gone skinny. My cheekbones are huge. I don't look like me any more.
Being smaller than I already am, although I want it desperately, will seem so weird. Being 'big' is very much an intrinsic part of how I see myself and what I think I am. If I haven't got that instant, bizarrely comforting, self-deprecating joke of me being fat to hide behind, then I'm not really sure what I have got. Perhaps my firm thwack on the 'self-destruct' button last week was because I'm actually really scared of the physical aspects of being smaller. I already hate the attention. And no, no I haven't had any attention from blokes, they still have no idea I exist - but getting told, "Wow, you look great!" and "Oh my god, look at you!!" or "I can't believe how amazing/stunning/beautiful/fabulous you look!" (and seriously - words like 'stunning' and 'beautiful' should never be associated with me) and all that sort of thing... don't get me wrong, it's lovely, I really appreciate how supportive everyone is - and it's a lot nicer than "Holy hell, look at that fat bitch!" which I haven't actually heard for a while now. But to be truthful, I don't feel like I deserve it and it really makes me uncomfortable. I don't really want to be looked at. I thought that's what being smaller would help me achieve - a nice little degree of invisibility.
Still. That's still no reason to go completely off track. I've got things to do. I've got clothes to fit into. I've got a Michael Nesmith gig to go to at the end of October!! So I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself, I'm going to stop being scared and I'm going to get the hell on with it.
In the wise words of Tony DiNozzo from NCIS - "If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got." In the equally wise words of Stanley Holloway - "You can't jump with one foot on the floor." Basically, this week, I need to get my finger out and make damn sure I don't completely put the last six months to waste.
Four stone mark - I am going to own you...!!
Although...
On July 5th (exactly 6 months after I first stepped on the scales) I managed to hit my half-way target of 3 1/2 stones. In fact I got just over my half way point, and all I needed was to lose another 5lbs in 5 weeks in order to hit my 4 stone mark. Then the boredom set in. And when it set, it stuck good and proper.
I don't know why, when I'd worked so hard over the last six months, I suddenly decided it would be a fabulous idea to go completely off the rails because I couldn't be bothered keeping on the straight and narrow. Yes, because getting halfway there totally means you're allowed to give yourself a week or two off, just because you 'can't be bothered'!!
No, actually, I shouldn't be allowed to give myself two weeks off 'just because' yet. I've not done anything yet. Halfway does not count. I've been here before. I've been halfway, and I've always fallen into this trap and the weight has piled straight back on and I'm back to where I was before I know it. I haven't done anything to congratulate myself for yet. I'm not taking away from the fact that it's been a long hard slog to get this far. And I know that losing over 3 1/2 stones in six months is an achievement, and I'm not really detracting from that. But it isn't the target. It isn't where I want to be.
You don't see people training for marathons giving themselves a few weeks off from training after they finally manage to run for thirteen miles solid, do you? Exactly. I haven't made it yet, I've got no reason to start messing around and giving myself lame excuses to fall off the wagon. So what if I've had a tough day at work? That doesn't instantly mean that I have to have a few large glasses of something interesting. It's not going to make my tough day any less tough. It's just a bunch of extra Syns that I don't actually need and that will only serve to make me feel guilty for a lapse in motivation.
Perhaps, and the thought did occur to me earlier last week, I've really never known myself this size. It feels weird. I look in the mirror now and I only see two chins, rather than 50. I saw my collar bone when I looked in the mirror the other week. It was just, y'know, there. I genuinely panicked for a few moments and thought there was a tumour growing below my neck, until I realised what it was!! My shoulders have gone skinny. My cheekbones are huge. I don't look like me any more.
Being smaller than I already am, although I want it desperately, will seem so weird. Being 'big' is very much an intrinsic part of how I see myself and what I think I am. If I haven't got that instant, bizarrely comforting, self-deprecating joke of me being fat to hide behind, then I'm not really sure what I have got. Perhaps my firm thwack on the 'self-destruct' button last week was because I'm actually really scared of the physical aspects of being smaller. I already hate the attention. And no, no I haven't had any attention from blokes, they still have no idea I exist - but getting told, "Wow, you look great!" and "Oh my god, look at you!!" or "I can't believe how amazing/stunning/beautiful/fabulous you look!" (and seriously - words like 'stunning' and 'beautiful' should never be associated with me) and all that sort of thing... don't get me wrong, it's lovely, I really appreciate how supportive everyone is - and it's a lot nicer than "Holy hell, look at that fat bitch!" which I haven't actually heard for a while now. But to be truthful, I don't feel like I deserve it and it really makes me uncomfortable. I don't really want to be looked at. I thought that's what being smaller would help me achieve - a nice little degree of invisibility.
Still. That's still no reason to go completely off track. I've got things to do. I've got clothes to fit into. I've got a Michael Nesmith gig to go to at the end of October!! So I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself, I'm going to stop being scared and I'm going to get the hell on with it.
In the wise words of Tony DiNozzo from NCIS - "If you always do what you've always done, you'll always get what you've always got." In the equally wise words of Stanley Holloway - "You can't jump with one foot on the floor." Basically, this week, I need to get my finger out and make damn sure I don't completely put the last six months to waste.
Four stone mark - I am going to own you...!!
Friday, 27 April 2012
"...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...!!
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...!!
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!!
Monday, 30 January 2012
I Don't Like Mondays
Phewf. I am no longer grey. On Friday, much in the style of Amy Winehouse, I went back to black. Not quite in the style, obviously, but when I invest in some industrial strength hairspray I might consider it. Anyway. Apparently my hair is now lovely, sleek and shiny - just like a retriever. Thanks, Auntie Heath.
Also on Friday night, I made the somewhat foolish decision to watch the live action Thunderbirds film. Insomnia will make you do some quite peculiar things. I did watch it once, back in the day, on a dodgy copy that my brother got - but I talked to my nephew the whole way through it so I don't really remember it. I should have taken note of the alarm bells that rang when there was no mention of the film being based on the work of Gerry Anderson in the opening titles. It should have been left as a hazy, foggy memory.
I had to pause and rewind several times to try and figure out who was who. It was about as far removed from Thunderbirds as it was possible to get. Brains had a 12 year old son - the writers decided to replace Grandma with a mother for Tin-Tin (I think that's who she was, anyway!) - Jeff Tracy went on rescues - Gordon Tracy went into space... What the actual chuff??!?!! Someone needs to make a proper Thunderbirds film. In its defence, Sophia Myles and Ron Cook were spot on as Lady Penelope and Parker. And the brat who played Alan was so annoying I spent most of the film hoping something terrible would happen to him. So. I mean - it could've been worse. Sort of. No. Wait. Vanessa Hudgens was in it. It definitely couldn't have been worse.
Rather than curing my insomnia, it just made me really annoyed and I spent the rest of the night having imaginary arguments with the idiots who made it. So, the lesson is - never watch anything remotely controvesial when you're trying to induce a sleepy feeling.
I still think that weekends are probably the least convenient time to attempt to stick to a diet with any degree of success. This is nothing to do with overeating at the weekend, but more the practicalities of taking time out to eat at all. I inadvertently skipped lunch altogether on Saturday, and even then only had a couple of pieces of fruit for breakfast. I had a similar problem yesterday as well. I don't know why eating is a more complicated event at weekends than it is during the week. Surely mealtimes are the signposts by which one structures their day, rather than things to fit in around other stuff that might be going on around them.
I did do a lot of walking on Saturday, though. I went on an adventure to Liverpool with Helena and her dad, The Great Donaldo. He ditched us at a coffee bar on Albert Dock under the pretence that he was doing us a favour but really we think that he didn't want us to cramp his style while he wandered around the Maritime Museum (probably busting a few hornpipe moves every now and then for maximum effect). We went to the new Liverpool Museum. It's really good. If you get chance to go - do it. It's really interactive and full of fascinating stuff. We must've been there a good two hours and didn't really see everything. Our best bit was the poetry corner where you used all these different word magnets to make up sentences and/or poems. Helena's best sentence was "Can my armpits think?" We made up a couple of rude ones about gerbils and hamsters too, but that's another story. All in all, a fabulous time was had, by me, definitely, but hopefully by all!! Finally got myself a new calendar as well, it's been a while since I had a Beatles calendar and it's nice to wake up to the Fab Four on the back of your door. It's definitely an improvement to waking up to the sight of Adam West and Burt Ward looking down at you...!!
So. It's Monday again and it's back to the grindstone. I have no plans and no ideas as to what will happen during the week. I just hope that by the time Thursday comes I will have lost the pound and a half that I put on last week. Hopefully more but at the very least I want to have lost that!! There are only three more weigh-ins until I go to see Olly Murs with Jo, and I at least want to be a little bit smaller than I was last time I went to the MEN in December.
Well. That was my weekend. Hope yours was equally fab, even if it wasn't F.A.B.!! Join me again later this week when I'll let you know if my Skip-It has arrived and if I've still got the knack for it!!
Also on Friday night, I made the somewhat foolish decision to watch the live action Thunderbirds film. Insomnia will make you do some quite peculiar things. I did watch it once, back in the day, on a dodgy copy that my brother got - but I talked to my nephew the whole way through it so I don't really remember it. I should have taken note of the alarm bells that rang when there was no mention of the film being based on the work of Gerry Anderson in the opening titles. It should have been left as a hazy, foggy memory.
I had to pause and rewind several times to try and figure out who was who. It was about as far removed from Thunderbirds as it was possible to get. Brains had a 12 year old son - the writers decided to replace Grandma with a mother for Tin-Tin (I think that's who she was, anyway!) - Jeff Tracy went on rescues - Gordon Tracy went into space... What the actual chuff??!?!! Someone needs to make a proper Thunderbirds film. In its defence, Sophia Myles and Ron Cook were spot on as Lady Penelope and Parker. And the brat who played Alan was so annoying I spent most of the film hoping something terrible would happen to him. So. I mean - it could've been worse. Sort of. No. Wait. Vanessa Hudgens was in it. It definitely couldn't have been worse.
Rather than curing my insomnia, it just made me really annoyed and I spent the rest of the night having imaginary arguments with the idiots who made it. So, the lesson is - never watch anything remotely controvesial when you're trying to induce a sleepy feeling.
I still think that weekends are probably the least convenient time to attempt to stick to a diet with any degree of success. This is nothing to do with overeating at the weekend, but more the practicalities of taking time out to eat at all. I inadvertently skipped lunch altogether on Saturday, and even then only had a couple of pieces of fruit for breakfast. I had a similar problem yesterday as well. I don't know why eating is a more complicated event at weekends than it is during the week. Surely mealtimes are the signposts by which one structures their day, rather than things to fit in around other stuff that might be going on around them.
I did do a lot of walking on Saturday, though. I went on an adventure to Liverpool with Helena and her dad, The Great Donaldo. He ditched us at a coffee bar on Albert Dock under the pretence that he was doing us a favour but really we think that he didn't want us to cramp his style while he wandered around the Maritime Museum (probably busting a few hornpipe moves every now and then for maximum effect). We went to the new Liverpool Museum. It's really good. If you get chance to go - do it. It's really interactive and full of fascinating stuff. We must've been there a good two hours and didn't really see everything. Our best bit was the poetry corner where you used all these different word magnets to make up sentences and/or poems. Helena's best sentence was "Can my armpits think?" We made up a couple of rude ones about gerbils and hamsters too, but that's another story. All in all, a fabulous time was had, by me, definitely, but hopefully by all!! Finally got myself a new calendar as well, it's been a while since I had a Beatles calendar and it's nice to wake up to the Fab Four on the back of your door. It's definitely an improvement to waking up to the sight of Adam West and Burt Ward looking down at you...!!
So. It's Monday again and it's back to the grindstone. I have no plans and no ideas as to what will happen during the week. I just hope that by the time Thursday comes I will have lost the pound and a half that I put on last week. Hopefully more but at the very least I want to have lost that!! There are only three more weigh-ins until I go to see Olly Murs with Jo, and I at least want to be a little bit smaller than I was last time I went to the MEN in December.
Well. That was my weekend. Hope yours was equally fab, even if it wasn't F.A.B.!! Join me again later this week when I'll let you know if my Skip-It has arrived and if I've still got the knack for it!!
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