Eating fest

All you thousands of lovely people who read my blog may have noticed that I didn't post last week - that's because I was still away, and I buckled, big time.  Having admirably sought out a Slimming World group near to where we were staying, I went the first week, but as soon as I left the building with the news that I had lost half a pound, I let go - I was on holiday! And what is a holiday without wine, Pringles, Minstrels, and cheese?  So I felt it would be a waste of a fiver to go to the meeting the following week, while still away.

A couple of days into my holiday eating fest, I was at the local Tesco, stocking up on salami and Pringles, and as I stood in the queue to pay I looked at the lady in front of me, more specifically her stomach.  I then looked at my own stomach, and tried to do a comparison.  Did I look like what she looked like? I wondered.  Was I as big as her?  How do others see me?  These were all thoughts going through my head.  I looked at her, and then looked at myself several times before she actually caught me doing it, and gave me an awfully filthy look. I actually thought she was going to whack me over the head, or indeed in the stomach, with her large bottle of coke.  It turned out I am considerably smaller than she is. 

On my back in the car, I tried to place an opened packet of crisps on my lap as I drove.  I was dismayed to realise that there was no room between the steering wheel and my stomach to comfortably place the crisps without them getting crushed.  The last time I was in this predicament was when I was 9 months pregnant.

So anyway, now back at home, I went to my usual SW group last night - a very brave thing to do, considering my two week gluttony - and I had put on three and half pounds.  So this week, I intend to lose four pounds or more, to get myself back on the straight and narrow.

Symmetry

I am away at the moment, but being the truly dedicated dieter that I am (ahem), I tracked down a Slimming World group just down the road from where we are staying, and it just so happens to run on the same day as my group back home - I love the symmetry of this - keeps things nice and neat.

Considering that we are on holiday, I have been pretty good - hardly any wine consumed, and only the odd packet of chocolate buttons here and there. We have been eating out a lot (who wants the chore of cooking on a holiday) but there hasn't been a burger in sight.

So I went to this group yesterday evening, and what a jolly bunch of buxom ladies they were! The leader was so very lovely and commended me for my commitment to the cause.

I am not sure that the effort of going to a fat club whilst on holiday, and only losing half a pound, was worth it, but it's good to be sociable - I sort of viewed it as an excursion, and enjoyed the ten minute respite from my kids.

Aiming high

I lost one pound at Fat Club last night.  Total weight loss since this blog begain is now 9.5 lbs.  I am happy with that.  I am aiming to reach a stone by next week. 

The comfort eater has left the building

I feel like I have had a massive breakthrough in the last month or so - I have ditched food (namely doughnuts, cornish pasties, Dairylea and crisp sandwiches) and wine, as my comfort, when things are stressful.  In my head it always seemed like a fabulous idea to turn to these things in times of need, but recently something has switched in my brain.

There are many things in life that we have absolutely no control over; things happen, sometimes awful things, but it is beyond our powers to stop them.  However, being fat, or not, IS something we can control - if we stop putting the wrong food into our mouths, we won't get fat (unless there are other health issues of course). 

In the last month or so I have been through an intensely stressful time with my best friend (she is not well) and where normally I would have eaten my way through it, I didn't.  My friend's illness was way out of my control so why lose even more control in my life and get even fatter?

W75EU7HSA8XA

Up a mountain

Some friends came to stay with us last weekend. They suggested we walk up the huge mountain next to our house. 'Yes' I agreed faux-enthusiastically 'let's do it'.

Stupidly I didn't have the foresight to change out of my Birkenstocks - even though everyone around me was milling around finding walking boots/socks and windproof anoraks etc.

So off we set up the mountain. My husband and the other husband headed off up into the distance with our two kids, and their eldest. Soon they were out of sight. I was feeling relieved that I had got off lightly and that I only had to get myself up the mountain. While my friend, carrying her three year old on her hip, effortlessly breezed past me up the near vertical mountain face, I tried to disguise my puffing and panting and sweating and shaky legs by having a sit down to 'admire the view'.

When I was about half way up, my husband bounded back down towards me with both our kids and told me he was going to the top without them, and that it was my turn to have them. I gave him a pleading look of horror in such a way that my friend wouldn't see. Unfortunately he didn't see it either and he was gone.

There was no bloody way I could continue upwards with my chest about to explode and two kids hanging off me. My two year old refused to walk and my four year told me she was a bit scared of falling and insisted on holding my hand. So with my feet sliding around inside my Birkenstocks and my legs like jelly, we slowly made our descent, cursing my husband every step of the way.

We had almost made it to the bottom when my friend glided up to us, having just been to the top and still holding her three year old, saw me struggling and asked me if I wanted her to carry my child as well. All pride and dignity now gone, I handed my daughter over, and breathed.

The moral of this story: I need to do more exercise and wear proper walking shoes when on a mountain. However, this little bit of exertion paid off and I lost 2.5lbs this week. To celebrate I went out for burger and chips and a pint of cider afterwards, BUT I couldn't physically finish the burger - my stomach has shrunk - hoorarr!

Onwards and downwards

I suppose that stealing my kids eggs on a nightly basis was never going to lose me any weight this week - but none went on either - I shall cling to that.   Fortunately I am now sick of the sight of the bloody things (the eggs, not my kids) and although they are still coming out of our ears, I am very definitely back on the rabbit food.

There was a real sense of misery in the fat club room last night, with everyone whispering to each other about how many eggs they had eaten - that flippin Easter Bunny has a lot to answer for.  Why are members of a slimming club so rubbish at dieting?

Glory days

On Tuesdays it seems fairly common practice for members of my fat club group to starve themselves, to give themselves the best possible chance at the weigh-in that evening - that, and wearing their lightest clothes, taking off all jewellery and trying to do a poo moments before they go in.  I have always thought these antics pretty ridiculous - JUST STOP EATING PIE AND CHIPS I want to shout. 

However, as I stepped onto the scales last night I found myself pathetically telling the barrel of a lady weighing me:

'I am wearing much heavier jeans this week, and I didn't do my usual poo this morning, AND I have got my period'. 

The lady, without even looking up at me, muttered: 'You've lost a pound' took my five quid, then beckoned for me to get off the scales, still without looking at me. 

My friend (a fellow fat club member - in fact it is her fault I started this whole thing) and I then went for our obligatory pint of cider and packet of crisps in the pub down the road, not before going via Spar and picking up three Cadbury Button eggs for £3, and then eating them under the table at the pub.