So we're nearly at the beginning of a new year. I can't say I'm not excited. 2012 for me has represented what felt like endless hospital visits or waits for appointments so I am more than ready for the new year.
My stomach is too I think. I've just troughed my way through a bunch of party food this evening courtesy of my mother. I do love Christmas but I am definitely at the point where normal food is starting to sound like a good idea. The one calorie saving grace of the Christmas period for me is alcohol. I don't really have a social group of friends down in the south. I lived up north for most of my life, went to uni up there too and during my second year my family moved to the south where my mum was born and grew up. So once uni finished, I found myself down here whilst most of my childhood friends are in my hometown, and all my uni friends are scattered all over (closest one being a couple of hours journeying away).
What that means is my wild uni nights of having 2-3 evenings out a week have dramatically died down now. I go out on occasion but it is very rarely these days. I honestly don't remember the last night out I had. Which on one hand I miss but on the other I think is a good thing. So many calories in alcohol. It also means that, come Christmas, I do have a tipple (I'm currently sipping on a port and lemon) but it's not the booze fest that it is for some people. Therefore I don't have extra calorie worries..not that I think I would worry to be honest. Like I said with the food, it's the one week you get to be self indulgent and not worry about it. Circumstance is the only reason for the lack of alcohol. As it is, I'm having to work out a new way of drinking due to my stomach problems. I can't drink very fizzy things anymore (again probably a good thing because occasionally I would crave fizzy drinks and we all know they're full of sugar). Fizzy stuff just insta-bloats me so I just stay away for the most part now. The lemonade in my port and lemon has had all the fizz whisked out of it.
My drink of choice used to be a cider but unless it's a flat cider, I can't drink it anymore. The thought of a Strongbow makes my stomach hurt just out of sympathy...not that I would chose Strongbow these days anyway..never been a massive fan. That was for teenage me who had a tenner a week to live on. I think wine would be something I would probably go for now. Or maybe even just spirits. If I can figure out a spirit I don't mind just sipping I can live with that. I'm not a one for spirits usually but there must be something I can sup on that I won't mind.
Tonight will be a quiet affair. I may stay up to see the new year in at least this year. I'm working like last year, but last year I was up at seven so I had to go to bed early or risk being grumpy. Tomorrow I'm up at eight so I can at least wave at midnight. I've never been a one for new years really. I always ended up at a friends with a couple of bottles of wine. The one big one I have had was our last year of uni which we spent back at the house and had an absolute blast with because it was our last one together. I can't be doing with going to town and spending three times the amount of money on a night out which will be overcrowded by the bank holiday knacker heads spoiling for a fight. That plus paying in to bars which you usually get into for free, or over paying for taxis. Just not worth it. Give me a house party or a pub any day.
For this evening though, I will sup my port and lemon and wait for midnight to roll round on what will hopefully be a better year than this one.
Happy new year! And good boo.
Monday, 31 December 2012
Sunday, 30 December 2012
Chrimbo Limbo
It's coming to the end of my self appointed week of gluttony. I have eaten whatever I like whenever I like for the last however many days and truth be told, it's starting to drag a little bit. I even eyed my bike up for the first time since its week long banishment. I haven't hopped on it though. Partly because it would be a mere token gesture after all the chocolate I have eaten. Partly because I know the novelty will wear off sooner than I think. I don't hate exercising on the thing. Some nights it's actually just easy and flies by (to the sultry sounds of whatever Alias episode I'm up to) but some nights it drags from the first minute to the end.
On those nights I just want to get off. The seconds tick by and I can feel myself just not putting the effort in. The thing that keeps me going, though, is the feeling at the end. Just an 'all done' sort of feeling. Like I know I would feel worse for having not done it. I can see the benefit of the bike in my legs as well. I have always had chunky legs (trait from my mother's side) but not only are my calves smaller by three inches (measured) due to the weight loss, they are also developing some nice muscle. My thighs are a source of constant annoyance to me. I'm sure they have decreased a little in inches but they just don't look like they have. They're the bane of my life when buying trousers. I started off being a size 24, which on my diminutive 5'4'' frame was pretty hefty. I was probably closer to a 26 than I dared think about to be honest. Some of my trousers were starting to bite into me a bit.
As I type, I'm in my works trousers. A size 20 pair which are literally falling off me. Such is my problem. I'm obviously now closer to a size 18 in the waist than I have been for years. Literally my early teens probably. I have been pretty big for most my life. But my thighs mean that my legs just don't fit comfortably into a size 18. Or they do and they look awful. So I mooch along, constantly tugging at my trousers at work (because for some stupid reason a lot of women's trousers don't come with belt loops). The top half of my uniform is a simple polo shirt. A man's XL. I was an XL when I started but I now fit comfortably into a L sized man top. With my oversized top and baggy trousers I'm sure I look fit to raid bins but such is life.
Just a quick update for today. Not an awful lot of point reviewing calories or food diaries when all I have done today is eat chocolate and some rather tasty bread and cheese.
So for this evening, good boo.
On those nights I just want to get off. The seconds tick by and I can feel myself just not putting the effort in. The thing that keeps me going, though, is the feeling at the end. Just an 'all done' sort of feeling. Like I know I would feel worse for having not done it. I can see the benefit of the bike in my legs as well. I have always had chunky legs (trait from my mother's side) but not only are my calves smaller by three inches (measured) due to the weight loss, they are also developing some nice muscle. My thighs are a source of constant annoyance to me. I'm sure they have decreased a little in inches but they just don't look like they have. They're the bane of my life when buying trousers. I started off being a size 24, which on my diminutive 5'4'' frame was pretty hefty. I was probably closer to a 26 than I dared think about to be honest. Some of my trousers were starting to bite into me a bit.
As I type, I'm in my works trousers. A size 20 pair which are literally falling off me. Such is my problem. I'm obviously now closer to a size 18 in the waist than I have been for years. Literally my early teens probably. I have been pretty big for most my life. But my thighs mean that my legs just don't fit comfortably into a size 18. Or they do and they look awful. So I mooch along, constantly tugging at my trousers at work (because for some stupid reason a lot of women's trousers don't come with belt loops). The top half of my uniform is a simple polo shirt. A man's XL. I was an XL when I started but I now fit comfortably into a L sized man top. With my oversized top and baggy trousers I'm sure I look fit to raid bins but such is life.
Just a quick update for today. Not an awful lot of point reviewing calories or food diaries when all I have done today is eat chocolate and some rather tasty bread and cheese.
So for this evening, good boo.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
IBS tales (part 2)
So we pick up just after I had been back and back again to see two doctors. I'd asked for a blood test to see if I had suddenly developed an intolerance to gluten (can happen that quickly apparently so I figured I'd rule it out). Now he did the test but also had all my other levels tested at the same time. Gluten intolerance negative. However my liver randomly came back showing elevated ALT levels (still don't really know what that means). He sort of freaked out a bit when I told him I had pain on the right side (even though I had been pointing it out over most of that year) because it's around where the liver is situated. I got told to go away for a month and come back for another blood test.
There was another month of grinding knife pain and epic wind. I can't even describe how painful it got on occasion. I know it sounds a tad dramatic to liken it to a knife, but it literally felt like there was something stabbing me deep inside. The only way to get any relief was by grinding my fist into the place where it hurt for as long as I could stand. And the gas, well it's crazy. I can roll a clenched fist over certain parts of my digestive tract sometimes and it feels (and sometimes sounds) like a woopee cushion being depressed and re inflating. Over and over. I tried all sorts of gas relieving tablets and none seemed to work. I'd also been put on antispasmodics by the good doctor too (who was still bleating IBS at me at every given opportunity) which I have to take before every meal. Not sure if they help but they're not hindering.
So the results from the next blood test come back and my ALT levels are even higher. This teamed with me almost breaking down in the waiting room had him finally convinced to send me off to the hospital. Another month or so of waiting but I finally got the referral I'd been asking for. Anyways I turn up at the hospital and lucky me, I get the fit doctor...on the day I have to chat alllll about my toilet habits. Fan-bloody-tastic. So fitdoctor presses my belly and says something about IBS and sends me for ANOTHER blood test. This one, however, liver specific. They also wanted results from a different ultrasound scan I'd had sendt over but they hadn't bothered, so I also had to go back in a month for both the blood results and the sent ultrasound results.
Fitdoctor had explained how IBS and bowel changes can be triggered by stress. I'm not one for moaning but I've had my fair share of stress over the year with one thing and another so I don't have to stretch my mind too far back to think of episodes which could have triggered it off. As it happens, me calming down and being told it's probably nothing, whilst frustrating, was also incentive enough for the stress to go away somewhat, taking the knife pain with it. It's still there on occasion but not every day. Same with the wind. Sometimes I get it so bad it's almost crippling. Sometimes I don't get a peep from my stomach.
I returned a month later and again they didn't have the ultrasound results. Not fit doctor this time, but someone new to discuss how my poo was looking these days with. Oh joy of cheek reddening joy. He informed me that they didn't have the ultrasound scan results still so I'd have to go to the hospital and have them done just as a final check, but the blood results looked all fine. No indicators of liver disease. The elevated levels were just down to me having a fatty liver due to being overweight (I pointed out the irony of just how many health problems I have had post losing five stone as opposed to when I was more of a knacker and apparently fit as a horse). He said 'you're overweight so losing some would be a benefit...well you're not that overweight so probably a couple of stone'. Not that overweight. Couldn't believe he said that. All my life health institutions have (quite rightly) pointed out how hefty I am. So for him to say those words felt like him saying 'you're like proper almost thin'. I can live with that.
I also, lucky me, got to do a poo sample test thing. I demanded one more test to ease my mind and apparently the old stool sample checks for Inflammatory bowel diseases. I had the absolute joy of sitting in a fairly packed waiting room whilst a nurse, in painstaking detail and at a voice level that can only be described as booming, brandished a cardboard bowl and a stool sample kit and told me what to do with gusto. I'm fairly certain I could have worked it out myself if I'm honest...not gonna lie.
I'll spare you the details of my next hospital visit, more ultrasound stuff, but a few days ago a letter turned up with the results. IBD free, liver looks fine, you've probably got IBS, avoid milk and fibre and enjoy the rest of your life. So that's it. IBS apparently. Something I've seen a friend of mine living with for years but something I didn't expect to ever have to deal with. I'm only just starting out on this diagnosed journey so I'm walking with shaky newborn horse baby steps...but I'm armed with peppermint green tea (can't stand full blown peppermint), peppermint and charcoal capsules and a friend who has several years of experience of this bastard of a condition. I'm determined not to let it get me down...I'm sure once I stop stressing it will cool its jets a bit. I need to do all the food diary stuff and work out which foods hate me. But I have cut out the dairy mostly and after this season of stuffing my face (incidentally another thing my stomach doesn't enjoy anymore) I will work towards trying to craft a diet which won't leave me wondering if I'm going to be able to leave my room after tea.
And for now, I leave you in this weird nothing week between Christmas and New years with peppermint burps and a half smile. Good boo.
There was another month of grinding knife pain and epic wind. I can't even describe how painful it got on occasion. I know it sounds a tad dramatic to liken it to a knife, but it literally felt like there was something stabbing me deep inside. The only way to get any relief was by grinding my fist into the place where it hurt for as long as I could stand. And the gas, well it's crazy. I can roll a clenched fist over certain parts of my digestive tract sometimes and it feels (and sometimes sounds) like a woopee cushion being depressed and re inflating. Over and over. I tried all sorts of gas relieving tablets and none seemed to work. I'd also been put on antispasmodics by the good doctor too (who was still bleating IBS at me at every given opportunity) which I have to take before every meal. Not sure if they help but they're not hindering.
So the results from the next blood test come back and my ALT levels are even higher. This teamed with me almost breaking down in the waiting room had him finally convinced to send me off to the hospital. Another month or so of waiting but I finally got the referral I'd been asking for. Anyways I turn up at the hospital and lucky me, I get the fit doctor...on the day I have to chat alllll about my toilet habits. Fan-bloody-tastic. So fitdoctor presses my belly and says something about IBS and sends me for ANOTHER blood test. This one, however, liver specific. They also wanted results from a different ultrasound scan I'd had sendt over but they hadn't bothered, so I also had to go back in a month for both the blood results and the sent ultrasound results.
Fitdoctor had explained how IBS and bowel changes can be triggered by stress. I'm not one for moaning but I've had my fair share of stress over the year with one thing and another so I don't have to stretch my mind too far back to think of episodes which could have triggered it off. As it happens, me calming down and being told it's probably nothing, whilst frustrating, was also incentive enough for the stress to go away somewhat, taking the knife pain with it. It's still there on occasion but not every day. Same with the wind. Sometimes I get it so bad it's almost crippling. Sometimes I don't get a peep from my stomach.
I returned a month later and again they didn't have the ultrasound results. Not fit doctor this time, but someone new to discuss how my poo was looking these days with. Oh joy of cheek reddening joy. He informed me that they didn't have the ultrasound scan results still so I'd have to go to the hospital and have them done just as a final check, but the blood results looked all fine. No indicators of liver disease. The elevated levels were just down to me having a fatty liver due to being overweight (I pointed out the irony of just how many health problems I have had post losing five stone as opposed to when I was more of a knacker and apparently fit as a horse). He said 'you're overweight so losing some would be a benefit...well you're not that overweight so probably a couple of stone'. Not that overweight. Couldn't believe he said that. All my life health institutions have (quite rightly) pointed out how hefty I am. So for him to say those words felt like him saying 'you're like proper almost thin'. I can live with that.
I also, lucky me, got to do a poo sample test thing. I demanded one more test to ease my mind and apparently the old stool sample checks for Inflammatory bowel diseases. I had the absolute joy of sitting in a fairly packed waiting room whilst a nurse, in painstaking detail and at a voice level that can only be described as booming, brandished a cardboard bowl and a stool sample kit and told me what to do with gusto. I'm fairly certain I could have worked it out myself if I'm honest...not gonna lie.
I'll spare you the details of my next hospital visit, more ultrasound stuff, but a few days ago a letter turned up with the results. IBD free, liver looks fine, you've probably got IBS, avoid milk and fibre and enjoy the rest of your life. So that's it. IBS apparently. Something I've seen a friend of mine living with for years but something I didn't expect to ever have to deal with. I'm only just starting out on this diagnosed journey so I'm walking with shaky newborn horse baby steps...but I'm armed with peppermint green tea (can't stand full blown peppermint), peppermint and charcoal capsules and a friend who has several years of experience of this bastard of a condition. I'm determined not to let it get me down...I'm sure once I stop stressing it will cool its jets a bit. I need to do all the food diary stuff and work out which foods hate me. But I have cut out the dairy mostly and after this season of stuffing my face (incidentally another thing my stomach doesn't enjoy anymore) I will work towards trying to craft a diet which won't leave me wondering if I'm going to be able to leave my room after tea.
And for now, I leave you in this weird nothing week between Christmas and New years with peppermint burps and a half smile. Good boo.
Friday, 28 December 2012
On the 9th day of Christmas, my true love gave me IBS..the arsehole (part 1)
I think today is as good a day as any for the promised IBS post. I'm sure you're all rubbing your hands with glee. (Warning, I'm not going to mince words about any experiences here so if you're a bit squeamish about toilet bits you might want to skip this one..).
So last year I started having problems in my stomach region. Mostly on my right, a couple of inches across from my bellybutton, I would get this really sharp pain. A pain that was exacerbated by certain things like lying on my left side or sitting cross legged and hunched over for long periods of time (my favourite sitting position as it happens..). I'd also had lots of sort of pulling pains and cramp type pains all through my digestive system...top to bottom.
I went to my doctor sometime just after Christmas and he gave me the cursory belly prod and sent me on my way with the intentions of returning if it didn't magically go away in a week (this was after a year of problems already...he's an adorable doctor but a bit crap sometimes). Anyways, I went home and obviously returned with tales of woe and he sent me on my way for an ultrasound. The first of VERY many I've had this year. Anyway, they sort of aimed the probe at my side for about three seconds, and then she zoned in just below my bellybutton for the rest of the scan. At the end of which she informed me that I had an epic cyst attached to one of my ovaries. 17cm of epic cyst infact (so big I could feel it behind my bellybutton when I lay on my back which I didn't realise until after it had been removed). Although I do have polycystic ovaries, triggered by being overweight, I was informed it's actually something to do with periods and can happen to any woman. I hadn't had a period in years because of the pcos, but at the minus three stone mark mother nature decided all was forgiven and kickstarted them...and then fucked it up leaving me with Alfred the epic cyst.
So a couple of months later (the day before my birthday) I was sent to a gynecologist who decided it needed surgically removing and sent me home with instructions to wait for my letter. Fast foreward to the back end of July and me slightly stressing out in the waiting room of the day surgery in some very fetching, hospital issue surgery socks. (Incidentally my mother was much more stressed, even though it was my ovaries a team of strangers would be fondling whilst no doubt chatting about the previous night's Eastenders). The surgery was supposed to be a keyhole affair through my bellybutton. Five days and I'd have been back to work. As it happens, because of it's size I had to be opened up at my bikini line and off work with my feet up for six weeks. Oh how I missed my ever so glamorous cleaning position whilst I got paid for staying home I can tell you...(sarcasm aside, it did get a bit boring).
Anyway, my point is, throughout this process, I had been told and retold that the pain in my side was to do with that. As it happened, after the cyst was gone I was pain free for a few weeks..and then it returned with vengeance. For about a month and a half I had pain like a knife grinding in my side along with bloating every evening after my tea all day every day. Hardcore bloating which had me rolling round trying to work the gas out..I went to the doctors numerous times and kept being told how it was probably IBS..by my normal doctor and a duty doctor.
Aaaand I think for now that can be enough for one day otherwise this will be one mammoth post that no one will actually want to read (not that I blame you..the windy conditions of someones knackered bowel doesn't make for the best conversation..unless you find someone with an equally knackered digestive system then it can be quite an interesting discussion over coffee and biscuits).
So try to contain your excitement for part 2 and for this evening my dears, good boo.
So last year I started having problems in my stomach region. Mostly on my right, a couple of inches across from my bellybutton, I would get this really sharp pain. A pain that was exacerbated by certain things like lying on my left side or sitting cross legged and hunched over for long periods of time (my favourite sitting position as it happens..). I'd also had lots of sort of pulling pains and cramp type pains all through my digestive system...top to bottom.
I went to my doctor sometime just after Christmas and he gave me the cursory belly prod and sent me on my way with the intentions of returning if it didn't magically go away in a week (this was after a year of problems already...he's an adorable doctor but a bit crap sometimes). Anyways, I went home and obviously returned with tales of woe and he sent me on my way for an ultrasound. The first of VERY many I've had this year. Anyway, they sort of aimed the probe at my side for about three seconds, and then she zoned in just below my bellybutton for the rest of the scan. At the end of which she informed me that I had an epic cyst attached to one of my ovaries. 17cm of epic cyst infact (so big I could feel it behind my bellybutton when I lay on my back which I didn't realise until after it had been removed). Although I do have polycystic ovaries, triggered by being overweight, I was informed it's actually something to do with periods and can happen to any woman. I hadn't had a period in years because of the pcos, but at the minus three stone mark mother nature decided all was forgiven and kickstarted them...and then fucked it up leaving me with Alfred the epic cyst.
So a couple of months later (the day before my birthday) I was sent to a gynecologist who decided it needed surgically removing and sent me home with instructions to wait for my letter. Fast foreward to the back end of July and me slightly stressing out in the waiting room of the day surgery in some very fetching, hospital issue surgery socks. (Incidentally my mother was much more stressed, even though it was my ovaries a team of strangers would be fondling whilst no doubt chatting about the previous night's Eastenders). The surgery was supposed to be a keyhole affair through my bellybutton. Five days and I'd have been back to work. As it happens, because of it's size I had to be opened up at my bikini line and off work with my feet up for six weeks. Oh how I missed my ever so glamorous cleaning position whilst I got paid for staying home I can tell you...(sarcasm aside, it did get a bit boring).
Anyway, my point is, throughout this process, I had been told and retold that the pain in my side was to do with that. As it happened, after the cyst was gone I was pain free for a few weeks..and then it returned with vengeance. For about a month and a half I had pain like a knife grinding in my side along with bloating every evening after my tea all day every day. Hardcore bloating which had me rolling round trying to work the gas out..I went to the doctors numerous times and kept being told how it was probably IBS..by my normal doctor and a duty doctor.
Aaaand I think for now that can be enough for one day otherwise this will be one mammoth post that no one will actually want to read (not that I blame you..the windy conditions of someones knackered bowel doesn't make for the best conversation..unless you find someone with an equally knackered digestive system then it can be quite an interesting discussion over coffee and biscuits).
So try to contain your excitement for part 2 and for this evening my dears, good boo.
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Christmas Belly
Merry Christmas! As predicted, I was too busy being all kinds of festive and jolly on actual Christmas to make a post. As it happened I did over indulge, but not as much as may have been expected. I was working until about two o'clock and didn't get home until close to three so dinner was a late and epic affair. I was so stuffed from all the delicious roast foods that I didn't really eat much for the rest of the day. I choked back a few token roasties later in the evening, more because they would go to waste than because I was anywhere near hungry. But past that I didn't eat any chocolate at all. Imagine.
Yesterday (boxing day) was pretty much a wash out. Due to some family nonsense, there was a lot of tension in the house. Me being off work, my plan was to watch awful tv and get partially drunk whilst eating all the treats in sight. Turned more into an evening of me being alternatively ignored and yelled at. But hey ho, such is Christmas when all the family is forced together in a small room. So again, I didn't massively overeat. We have a tradition of two roasts at Christmas. One on the actual day and one come boxing day with the leftover turkey. It's a crazy one to outsiders I'm sure but it's always been like it in our house. So after turkey round two I was entirely too stuffed to have eaten much anyway, were it not for the family rows as it was.
Today though, I have made up for it. The tension has cleared somewhat, and we've had ourselves a buffet tea. All sorts of slightly cardboard tasting treats. I love party food. I know it's crap and it doesn't even taste very nice, and it has a penchant for getting stale in minutes if you don't eat it the moment it's placed on the table. But I absolutely cannot get enough. Comedy mini pizza? Fill me up. Prawn ring, oo er, don't mind if I do. So I type this entirely full of Christmas cheer and southern fried prawns with no interest in anymore indulgence this evening. I haven't even had a chance to pick at the epic table of goodies mum sets out every year either really....bar a few cheeky pringles and a nibble at the dairy milk box. I have given myself until the 1st to eat whatever I want, and then it's back to the 'diet'. Albeit, with a larger chocolate stash than I was anticipating. As I have said before, however, I am not one who has to eat all the chocolate they own just because it's there luckily. I'm much more a fiend for the savoury. So doubtless I will have Christmas chocolates tucked on top of my wardrobe for a canny few months to come.
I shall be quite interested in seeing what my weight gain will be for the Christmas period. I ate a lot more this time last year and only put on around four pounds. Pittance really for a week of scoffing. It's just crazy to think how easy it is to gain weight as opposed to losing it. If I were to eat as much as I do at Christmas every week, it would only take me around four months to put back all the weight I have lost. Weight which has taken me two years to lose (granted in a very loose and unstrict sort of a way...). Could be quite disheartening to think about it...so I don't think I will.
For now though, another wish of a Merry Christmas time and I shall see you tomorrow. Good boo.
Yesterday (boxing day) was pretty much a wash out. Due to some family nonsense, there was a lot of tension in the house. Me being off work, my plan was to watch awful tv and get partially drunk whilst eating all the treats in sight. Turned more into an evening of me being alternatively ignored and yelled at. But hey ho, such is Christmas when all the family is forced together in a small room. So again, I didn't massively overeat. We have a tradition of two roasts at Christmas. One on the actual day and one come boxing day with the leftover turkey. It's a crazy one to outsiders I'm sure but it's always been like it in our house. So after turkey round two I was entirely too stuffed to have eaten much anyway, were it not for the family rows as it was.
Today though, I have made up for it. The tension has cleared somewhat, and we've had ourselves a buffet tea. All sorts of slightly cardboard tasting treats. I love party food. I know it's crap and it doesn't even taste very nice, and it has a penchant for getting stale in minutes if you don't eat it the moment it's placed on the table. But I absolutely cannot get enough. Comedy mini pizza? Fill me up. Prawn ring, oo er, don't mind if I do. So I type this entirely full of Christmas cheer and southern fried prawns with no interest in anymore indulgence this evening. I haven't even had a chance to pick at the epic table of goodies mum sets out every year either really....bar a few cheeky pringles and a nibble at the dairy milk box. I have given myself until the 1st to eat whatever I want, and then it's back to the 'diet'. Albeit, with a larger chocolate stash than I was anticipating. As I have said before, however, I am not one who has to eat all the chocolate they own just because it's there luckily. I'm much more a fiend for the savoury. So doubtless I will have Christmas chocolates tucked on top of my wardrobe for a canny few months to come.
I shall be quite interested in seeing what my weight gain will be for the Christmas period. I ate a lot more this time last year and only put on around four pounds. Pittance really for a week of scoffing. It's just crazy to think how easy it is to gain weight as opposed to losing it. If I were to eat as much as I do at Christmas every week, it would only take me around four months to put back all the weight I have lost. Weight which has taken me two years to lose (granted in a very loose and unstrict sort of a way...). Could be quite disheartening to think about it...so I don't think I will.
For now though, another wish of a Merry Christmas time and I shall see you tomorrow. Good boo.
Monday, 24 December 2012
Nigella sort of Christmas Eve
Excuse my whilst I digest that three course meal my wonderful mother just provided. Prawn starter, steak and potatoes and brownies for desert courtesy of an old Christmas episode of Nigella's which planted the 'let's make a new tradition!' seed in mum's head. Cheers nige'!
Today had been a good day until that calorie splurge for tea but I don't mind in the slightest. Like I said previously, this week is off limits to calorie counting! I skipped breakfast again due to the same weird stomach feelings as yesterday...which also meant I skipped out on my evening meal yesterday as well. I just didn't feel right..I don't know if I was just overful from dinner, or if it was the IBS or psychological stupidness about this virus. Or a combination of all three. But I was so convinced that I was going to be spending my night on the floor of the bathroom. Luckily this was not the case or I would have been most displeased. So instead I chose to not chance it and skip another meal. So yesterday was pretty much awesome from a calorie standpoint, probably about 1200 eaten and then a 40 minute stint on the bike worth of calories taken off. Not so great from a health standpoint as I know meal skipping isn't the best way to lose weight..well not the most healthy way to do it anyways. I do wish I was one of those people who didn't care about food though. Life would be so much easier.
I weighed myself this morning and at the moment I have started my Christmas binge at 14 stone 3 pounds. We'll see what that number is at come the 1st..Not that I'm overly concerned though like I said before. My drive to lose weight has taken a back seat recently because I have been stressed waiting on hospital nonsense, but now I have results I can get back on the bandwagon. Hopefully I can sort out my rowing machine by then as well. If not I'm quite tempted to just buy a new one. I believe my first trusty one was around the £60 mark. Not an awful lot of money. I imagine that it would be a better investment to buy one of the more expensive ones, but quite frankly that one did the job and also, it was pretty lightweight so easily shifted between rooms. For now, the bike will do.
My other exercise outlet is walking my two terriers (one more than the other. I have a westie of 9 who refuses to leave the house unless it's the perfect temperature. Not too hot, nowhere near cold and DEFINITELY no wet). However, the rain lashing down at the moment is destroying both my will to go on long treks, and my choice of routes. I live near some woods and also a big expanse of fields but both are so waterlogged that no one, woman nor beast, would enjoy trudging through them. So they have to make do with a 20-30 minute walk and my heart has to put up with about 15-30 minutes less cardio.
For this week though I don't even have to worry about shoe horning in any sort of work outs, and instead can concentrate solely on maintaining a cool glass of wine and a piping roast turkey (post work tomorrow unfortunately. The old dears don't stop for Christmas so neither do I).
Merry Christmas to anyone who actually reads this blog. I doubt there will be an update tomorrow due to roast coma.
For now my festive dears, good boo.
Today had been a good day until that calorie splurge for tea but I don't mind in the slightest. Like I said previously, this week is off limits to calorie counting! I skipped breakfast again due to the same weird stomach feelings as yesterday...which also meant I skipped out on my evening meal yesterday as well. I just didn't feel right..I don't know if I was just overful from dinner, or if it was the IBS or psychological stupidness about this virus. Or a combination of all three. But I was so convinced that I was going to be spending my night on the floor of the bathroom. Luckily this was not the case or I would have been most displeased. So instead I chose to not chance it and skip another meal. So yesterday was pretty much awesome from a calorie standpoint, probably about 1200 eaten and then a 40 minute stint on the bike worth of calories taken off. Not so great from a health standpoint as I know meal skipping isn't the best way to lose weight..well not the most healthy way to do it anyways. I do wish I was one of those people who didn't care about food though. Life would be so much easier.
I weighed myself this morning and at the moment I have started my Christmas binge at 14 stone 3 pounds. We'll see what that number is at come the 1st..Not that I'm overly concerned though like I said before. My drive to lose weight has taken a back seat recently because I have been stressed waiting on hospital nonsense, but now I have results I can get back on the bandwagon. Hopefully I can sort out my rowing machine by then as well. If not I'm quite tempted to just buy a new one. I believe my first trusty one was around the £60 mark. Not an awful lot of money. I imagine that it would be a better investment to buy one of the more expensive ones, but quite frankly that one did the job and also, it was pretty lightweight so easily shifted between rooms. For now, the bike will do.
My other exercise outlet is walking my two terriers (one more than the other. I have a westie of 9 who refuses to leave the house unless it's the perfect temperature. Not too hot, nowhere near cold and DEFINITELY no wet). However, the rain lashing down at the moment is destroying both my will to go on long treks, and my choice of routes. I live near some woods and also a big expanse of fields but both are so waterlogged that no one, woman nor beast, would enjoy trudging through them. So they have to make do with a 20-30 minute walk and my heart has to put up with about 15-30 minutes less cardio.
For this week though I don't even have to worry about shoe horning in any sort of work outs, and instead can concentrate solely on maintaining a cool glass of wine and a piping roast turkey (post work tomorrow unfortunately. The old dears don't stop for Christmas so neither do I).
Merry Christmas to anyone who actually reads this blog. I doubt there will be an update tomorrow due to roast coma.
For now my festive dears, good boo.
Sunday, 23 December 2012
Merry Norovirus
Today I have been good for the most part. Good in a bad way though...The norovirus is kicking about work at the moment (don't remember if I have mentioned) so every time my stomach even twinges in a slightly abnormal way I immediately assume I am going to be sick. This morning as I was rooting about in the fridge to see if there was anything I could grab for a little on the run breakfast, I realised I was feeling distinctly full. A feeling I usually only get after a post night out kebab or other greasy take away (not that I have had a night out in forever and a day..). Which is usually followed by me spending the morning in the bathroom having a chat to the toilet.
So I grabbed a banana and left the house half holding my breath in anticipation with all my digits crossed against projectile vomiting in the car. You see, the thought of having the virus doesn't really bother me so much. I mean, of course I would rather not have it but I'm one of those people who doesn't really mind being sick so it wouldn't be a big deal. My problem is the 2-3 days off work it would cost me (plus it now including Christmas day currently should I get it...touch wood). I can't afford the time off right now after blowing all my wages on the festivities. Especially not when I'm actually working six hours Christmas day at double time...that's a lot of dosh to miss out on.
Turns out I wasn't actually sick and it was just a random feeling of being full as opposed to illness so hurrah.
Anyway, because of me skipping out on breakfast, it meant I had an extra 200 calories to play with. Like I say, being good in a bad way..we all know how important breakfast is to the day. But anyway, I got home post work to find mum had cooked a rice/chicken/mushroom number (we usually have a roast like most normal people come Sunday, but she quite rightly pointed out that we're going to be eating nothing but roast bird for the next week...not a euphemism). So I've eaten that and a slice of millionaires shortbread...which I know, I know is awful but I had those extra calories to play with plus I haven't actually eaten anything else (apart from my advent chocolate and a quality street) all day so it shouldn't make an epic difference.
I am now planning on going on my bike for the next 40 minutes, followed by a shower and then finishing off the rest of my wrapping in time for the big day to the tune of Lova Actually. And also figuring out what I want for tea although I'm not at all hungry at the moment. Something small and light no doubt...
For now though, good boo.
So I grabbed a banana and left the house half holding my breath in anticipation with all my digits crossed against projectile vomiting in the car. You see, the thought of having the virus doesn't really bother me so much. I mean, of course I would rather not have it but I'm one of those people who doesn't really mind being sick so it wouldn't be a big deal. My problem is the 2-3 days off work it would cost me (plus it now including Christmas day currently should I get it...touch wood). I can't afford the time off right now after blowing all my wages on the festivities. Especially not when I'm actually working six hours Christmas day at double time...that's a lot of dosh to miss out on.
Turns out I wasn't actually sick and it was just a random feeling of being full as opposed to illness so hurrah.
Anyway, because of me skipping out on breakfast, it meant I had an extra 200 calories to play with. Like I say, being good in a bad way..we all know how important breakfast is to the day. But anyway, I got home post work to find mum had cooked a rice/chicken/mushroom number (we usually have a roast like most normal people come Sunday, but she quite rightly pointed out that we're going to be eating nothing but roast bird for the next week...not a euphemism). So I've eaten that and a slice of millionaires shortbread...which I know, I know is awful but I had those extra calories to play with plus I haven't actually eaten anything else (apart from my advent chocolate and a quality street) all day so it shouldn't make an epic difference.
I am now planning on going on my bike for the next 40 minutes, followed by a shower and then finishing off the rest of my wrapping in time for the big day to the tune of Lova Actually. And also figuring out what I want for tea although I'm not at all hungry at the moment. Something small and light no doubt...
For now though, good boo.
Saturday, 22 December 2012
Birthday calories don't count...
So my little brother just returned from uni for the Christmas Holidays. It was his 21st birthday a couple of weeks ago, and my mother's birthday a couple of days ago so I decided to stump up some cash so we could have a cheeky chinese as a sort of celebration.
It's almost the week of Christmas which I have already decided will be my cheat week because hey, it's Christmas! Well just over a week really I guess. It's probably most likely set to continue until the 1st of January. I'm banning the bike too. Much as I almost like doing the exercise daily, it can eat into my evening planning enough to muck up family based activities. It is only forty minutes I do at a time, but that also involves about ten minutes of preparation (finding my clothes, getting the bike, stretching, dvd etc) and then I also have to factor in my shower. So it's probably over an hour dedicated to the exercise which might not seem like much, but it's one of those things which hangs over you and screws with planning. And this is the only time of year we can manage to convince my dad that board games of an evening would be an amazing idea...
Take today for example. I was going to do the exercise post dinner, around three o' clock like I have been doing for the past few weeks. But I have been to work today and it's a 7am start, and a lack of sleep the last three nights meant I just wiped out for like two hours earlier. Now it's almost half past eight and I'm off to do some evening shopping with mum at Asda and I still haven't managed to squeeze in some exercise. (Granted after the chinese it's more like a token gesture to be honest). I doubt tonight will contain any though...I know what mum's like for shopping so we probably won't be home till gone ten and I have to be up tomorrow again at 7am so it'll be an 'early' night for sure. Plus my head feels like it's full of cotton wool after that nap..
I'd like to get a weigh in done before the festivities start. I'm not one to obsess over how many pounds I put on at Christmas because, let's be honest, if I was that person then I would either be thin or not over eating come Christmas. I'm not going to stuff my face all day every day as it is. I haven't been super strictly denying myself on this 'diet' but I have gotten to a point where if I do over indulge, it's not by an awful lot. Especially over an extended period of time. Plus I now have to factor in the (today formally diagnosed) IBS...which again, I will do an actual blog about at some point. But yes I would like to note my before and after Christmas weight just to see how much I set myself back. Last year I remember it wasn't as big a deal as the media makes out. For me at least. It was around about three or four pounds I put on which is not an awful lot, and nowhere near the horror stories of a stone in a day like the papers often declare (NB: maaay be exaggerating this slightly).
Thing is, my only device for weighing myself happens to be my Wii fit...and the bloody thing has ran out of batteries...Well no. I do keep buying the pound shop specials where you get about 300 for a quid but they last thirty seconds each. We did buy some scales from Argos but they told me I'd managed to loose half a stone in about an hour, which was lovely but out and out lying. Back to the shop it went.
So tomorrow will be a quest for batteries and exercise me thinks. That's the plan anyway and now I've written it down I'll have to stick to it...
For now though, good boo.
It's almost the week of Christmas which I have already decided will be my cheat week because hey, it's Christmas! Well just over a week really I guess. It's probably most likely set to continue until the 1st of January. I'm banning the bike too. Much as I almost like doing the exercise daily, it can eat into my evening planning enough to muck up family based activities. It is only forty minutes I do at a time, but that also involves about ten minutes of preparation (finding my clothes, getting the bike, stretching, dvd etc) and then I also have to factor in my shower. So it's probably over an hour dedicated to the exercise which might not seem like much, but it's one of those things which hangs over you and screws with planning. And this is the only time of year we can manage to convince my dad that board games of an evening would be an amazing idea...
Take today for example. I was going to do the exercise post dinner, around three o' clock like I have been doing for the past few weeks. But I have been to work today and it's a 7am start, and a lack of sleep the last three nights meant I just wiped out for like two hours earlier. Now it's almost half past eight and I'm off to do some evening shopping with mum at Asda and I still haven't managed to squeeze in some exercise. (Granted after the chinese it's more like a token gesture to be honest). I doubt tonight will contain any though...I know what mum's like for shopping so we probably won't be home till gone ten and I have to be up tomorrow again at 7am so it'll be an 'early' night for sure. Plus my head feels like it's full of cotton wool after that nap..
I'd like to get a weigh in done before the festivities start. I'm not one to obsess over how many pounds I put on at Christmas because, let's be honest, if I was that person then I would either be thin or not over eating come Christmas. I'm not going to stuff my face all day every day as it is. I haven't been super strictly denying myself on this 'diet' but I have gotten to a point where if I do over indulge, it's not by an awful lot. Especially over an extended period of time. Plus I now have to factor in the (today formally diagnosed) IBS...which again, I will do an actual blog about at some point. But yes I would like to note my before and after Christmas weight just to see how much I set myself back. Last year I remember it wasn't as big a deal as the media makes out. For me at least. It was around about three or four pounds I put on which is not an awful lot, and nowhere near the horror stories of a stone in a day like the papers often declare (NB: maaay be exaggerating this slightly).
Thing is, my only device for weighing myself happens to be my Wii fit...and the bloody thing has ran out of batteries...Well no. I do keep buying the pound shop specials where you get about 300 for a quid but they last thirty seconds each. We did buy some scales from Argos but they told me I'd managed to loose half a stone in about an hour, which was lovely but out and out lying. Back to the shop it went.
So tomorrow will be a quest for batteries and exercise me thinks. That's the plan anyway and now I've written it down I'll have to stick to it...
For now though, good boo.
Friday, 21 December 2012
Chocolate brandashing Polish ninjas
Today has been a good day I feel. Calorie wise I've stuck within my boundaries mostly. There is chocolate all over work at the moment. I work in a care home and as a token of thanks, families of the residents generally donate some form of confectionery to the departments...course there are about 65 residents so you can imagine the amount of chocolate kicking about.
Even the advances of one of our more overzealous Polish team members brandishing a tin in my face didn't break my will power! She has decided I'm starving myself due to the weight I have already lost...which couldn't be further from the truth but she won't have any of it. I tend not to bother eating anything at work, even on the weekends when I do actually have a lunch break, simply because I'm part time so I'd rather just wait till when 2 o'clock rolls round and I can get something at home. (NB: this does not, in fact, apply to break time..when I have been known to indulge in biscuits from the tin..usually a couple of digestives). But because I 'skip dinner' at work she assumes I'm not eating at all and often pops up thrusting a satsuma, or other handy fruit, into my face whilst declaring 'eat, eat!' in her broken English (NB: because I tend to work with her most often I am called in to try to figure out what she's trying to say on the numerous occasions that no one has a clue what she's going on about).
As I say though, I do tend to go home to eat. But this has the adverse affect of me being pretty hungry by the time I reach the kitchen and going on a nibble fest. I try, of a morning, to grab some sort of food to eat in the car. I tend to skip breakfast because I don't get hungry until I've been awake a few hours and I mostly get up about half an hour before I'm due to leave because frankly, I just like to sleep! So breakfast tends to consist of some sort of fruit (as long as it's not over ripe. I HATE mushy fruit with a passion) and a yoghurt drink containing all them friendly bacteria. For the last year I've been having gut problems (I'll do a separate blog post on this I think. Long story) and Captain Doctor told me the cheery, helpful bacteria might help. Lovely little chaps. They're not having an adverse affect so far so hey ho, might as well keep trying.
Anyway, this morning I actually did bother with breakfast in the form of Marmite on toast. I am entirely team love it. It worked in that, come break time around 10.30 am, I wasn't remotely interested in the biscuit tin. I might continue this practice tomorrow and have another bash at breakfast on the go. See if it's one good habit I can actually try to stick to...Not going to lie, it probably won't be.
For now though, good boo!
Even the advances of one of our more overzealous Polish team members brandishing a tin in my face didn't break my will power! She has decided I'm starving myself due to the weight I have already lost...which couldn't be further from the truth but she won't have any of it. I tend not to bother eating anything at work, even on the weekends when I do actually have a lunch break, simply because I'm part time so I'd rather just wait till when 2 o'clock rolls round and I can get something at home. (NB: this does not, in fact, apply to break time..when I have been known to indulge in biscuits from the tin..usually a couple of digestives). But because I 'skip dinner' at work she assumes I'm not eating at all and often pops up thrusting a satsuma, or other handy fruit, into my face whilst declaring 'eat, eat!' in her broken English (NB: because I tend to work with her most often I am called in to try to figure out what she's trying to say on the numerous occasions that no one has a clue what she's going on about).
As I say though, I do tend to go home to eat. But this has the adverse affect of me being pretty hungry by the time I reach the kitchen and going on a nibble fest. I try, of a morning, to grab some sort of food to eat in the car. I tend to skip breakfast because I don't get hungry until I've been awake a few hours and I mostly get up about half an hour before I'm due to leave because frankly, I just like to sleep! So breakfast tends to consist of some sort of fruit (as long as it's not over ripe. I HATE mushy fruit with a passion) and a yoghurt drink containing all them friendly bacteria. For the last year I've been having gut problems (I'll do a separate blog post on this I think. Long story) and Captain Doctor told me the cheery, helpful bacteria might help. Lovely little chaps. They're not having an adverse affect so far so hey ho, might as well keep trying.
Anyway, this morning I actually did bother with breakfast in the form of Marmite on toast. I am entirely team love it. It worked in that, come break time around 10.30 am, I wasn't remotely interested in the biscuit tin. I might continue this practice tomorrow and have another bash at breakfast on the go. See if it's one good habit I can actually try to stick to...Not going to lie, it probably won't be.
For now though, good boo!
Thursday, 20 December 2012
Confectionary Temptress
Today has been a standard sort of day as far as my less than motivated calorie controlled diet goes. I try to stick to my aforementioned calorie boundaries, and then mum makes chocolate cake.
Actually...more like two tiered chocolate cake, fully decorated Christmas cake and two trays of millionaires shortbreads (albeit one destined to be destroyed by my aunties family). She doesn't seem to grasp the concept that in a household of overweight people, one of whom has diabetes, lots of cakes probably aren't the best idea. Especially since said people collectively don't have the willpower to resist a muffin..
Nightmare. I have, however, managed to avoid the cake temptation (instead replacing my sweet cravings with a small slice of Morrisons candy cane bread thing..). Doesn't mean I haven't gone over the old calorie budget though. Not by much, but again the nibbles have caught me off guard. There was a drive by Quality Street incident at work I wasn't quite prepared for (only ate two though..).
I have done my forty minutes on the bike also, which may or may not have cancelled out said bread...although it probably didn't get the calories I troughed through when chomping on a bag of Co-op brand fancy salt and vinegar crisps. They do have some long winded name but the concept is basically the same...They were pointed out to me from a friend who isn't a lover of salt and vinegar as a rule, but can't get enough of them. I told myself not to try them because if they were as good as he was raving on about, I'd undoubtedly end up eating the whole 700 calorie bag in one go. As it is, they are as good as he says, but it does take me a good three days of sporadic nibbling to get me through them thankfully. I have managed to resist their salty, siren allure (slightly dirtier than I meant that to sound I'll admit..).
As it is though, today hasn't been a complete bust. It just hasn't been the salady 500 calorie affair it probably should have been. Oh well. I'm just going to sit and digest my late evening spag bol to the merry tune of QI and think of all the lovely leaves I'll no doubt rigorously stick to tomorrow.
Good boo.
Actually...more like two tiered chocolate cake, fully decorated Christmas cake and two trays of millionaires shortbreads (albeit one destined to be destroyed by my aunties family). She doesn't seem to grasp the concept that in a household of overweight people, one of whom has diabetes, lots of cakes probably aren't the best idea. Especially since said people collectively don't have the willpower to resist a muffin..
Nightmare. I have, however, managed to avoid the cake temptation (instead replacing my sweet cravings with a small slice of Morrisons candy cane bread thing..). Doesn't mean I haven't gone over the old calorie budget though. Not by much, but again the nibbles have caught me off guard. There was a drive by Quality Street incident at work I wasn't quite prepared for (only ate two though..).
I have done my forty minutes on the bike also, which may or may not have cancelled out said bread...although it probably didn't get the calories I troughed through when chomping on a bag of Co-op brand fancy salt and vinegar crisps. They do have some long winded name but the concept is basically the same...They were pointed out to me from a friend who isn't a lover of salt and vinegar as a rule, but can't get enough of them. I told myself not to try them because if they were as good as he was raving on about, I'd undoubtedly end up eating the whole 700 calorie bag in one go. As it is, they are as good as he says, but it does take me a good three days of sporadic nibbling to get me through them thankfully. I have managed to resist their salty, siren allure (slightly dirtier than I meant that to sound I'll admit..).
As it is though, today hasn't been a complete bust. It just hasn't been the salady 500 calorie affair it probably should have been. Oh well. I'm just going to sit and digest my late evening spag bol to the merry tune of QI and think of all the lovely leaves I'll no doubt rigorously stick to tomorrow.
Good boo.
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
Day two in the big belly house (comedian)...
To pick up from the previous post, Santa had brought me a rowing machine for Christmas. During school and the dreaded forced torture of activities known as PE, and in particular when we used the gym, my favourite piece of equipment was always the rower. I've always had quite strong upper body strength, so even going for extended periods of time didn't knacker me to the point of wanting to jack it in.
I got around to doing 40 minutes of exercise on it (about as long as most standard American TV show episodes..) five times a week. From that I extended it to six times a week and overtook the New Years resolution average of three months of enforced exercise before giving in with ease. I genuinely enjoyed using my rowing machine. Right up until the point that one of the arms fell off. This was about seven months in at this point. I admit I didn't rigorously keep to the six days a week schedule, (and even had an extended break of about two months following some surgery on a mammoth cyst I unwillingly and unknowingly cultivated on one of my ovaries)but seven months was apparently all my Argos bought rowing machine was willing to give me before one of the joints literally wore out and the metal fell apart. Cue warranty arguments with customer services(we'd lost the box for a while before finding it after numerous phone conversations) until they agreed to replace it.
However, they didn't carry the same model anymore and the new one, which I am currently sat opposite of funnily enough, is evil. We don't get along. My dad fixed it together for me due to my lack of ability when it comes to fixing anything together with lots of screws and fiddly bits. But for some reason, the seat part sticks. I'll be beasting away and just working up a bit of a sweat, and the seat will jam entirely and actually throw me off. Comical I'm sure to bystanders but for me, after ten times of doing that in a row, it's a pain in the arse. So it has been retired. I would go through the warranty fight again but I've actually lost the box this time (you live and apparently don't learn).
So I have had to resort to using the family exercise bike for the last few months. Good for getting the heart rate going but not so good at giving me a full body work out. Not entirely to blame for my plateauing weight loss however. I have moments of an iron will when it comes to food. And moments where I have no will power whatsoever. I have a 'stash' (as my mother calls it) of chocolate in my room which has remained remarkably intact. I do dip into it every now and again but it's more when I fancy a sweet treat and have the leftover calories to justify it.
I have a system of 200 calories for breakfast, 500 for dinner and 700 for tea..and then usually about 200-300 for some sort of naughtiness which I work off with exercise. I know, not the cleverest idea. The snack shouldn't be there but I find it hard to not have a nibble of something nice during the day. That's my downfall. Nibbling things. A piece of cheese whilst I'm waiting for my brew, or a handful of cracker crisp things whilst I'm cooking dinner. That's what I need to work on. That's when my will power is at it's lowest. Or when I've been working and come home at one with a rumbling stomach and eat far too much in a sort of a haze. Mostly keeping within my 500 calories but turning a blind eye if I overstep the boundary a little.
That's where me and the rowing machine used to be a team. I'd consistently work off around 400 calories (by the machines calculator) whereas with the bike I'm entirely unsure how much 40 minutes clocks up because it doesn't work. Hence why, for the last three or so months I have hovered around the 14 stone 5 mark. Recently it even crept back up to 14 stone 8 but I refused to let that happen and beat it right back down again. Hence my starting this blog again. Yes just before Christmas when the calories will no doubt go back up (I refuse to count calories during Christmas week, it's just not happening). But I didn't want this to feel like another empty New Year promise to myself.
I will endeavour to either find my rowing machine box or have another shouting match with Argos and get my arse back in gear and my rower back in shape so, post festivities, I can get back on that wagon.
...Maybe tomorrow.
For the moment though, good boo.
I got around to doing 40 minutes of exercise on it (about as long as most standard American TV show episodes..) five times a week. From that I extended it to six times a week and overtook the New Years resolution average of three months of enforced exercise before giving in with ease. I genuinely enjoyed using my rowing machine. Right up until the point that one of the arms fell off. This was about seven months in at this point. I admit I didn't rigorously keep to the six days a week schedule, (and even had an extended break of about two months following some surgery on a mammoth cyst I unwillingly and unknowingly cultivated on one of my ovaries)but seven months was apparently all my Argos bought rowing machine was willing to give me before one of the joints literally wore out and the metal fell apart. Cue warranty arguments with customer services(we'd lost the box for a while before finding it after numerous phone conversations) until they agreed to replace it.
However, they didn't carry the same model anymore and the new one, which I am currently sat opposite of funnily enough, is evil. We don't get along. My dad fixed it together for me due to my lack of ability when it comes to fixing anything together with lots of screws and fiddly bits. But for some reason, the seat part sticks. I'll be beasting away and just working up a bit of a sweat, and the seat will jam entirely and actually throw me off. Comical I'm sure to bystanders but for me, after ten times of doing that in a row, it's a pain in the arse. So it has been retired. I would go through the warranty fight again but I've actually lost the box this time (you live and apparently don't learn).
So I have had to resort to using the family exercise bike for the last few months. Good for getting the heart rate going but not so good at giving me a full body work out. Not entirely to blame for my plateauing weight loss however. I have moments of an iron will when it comes to food. And moments where I have no will power whatsoever. I have a 'stash' (as my mother calls it) of chocolate in my room which has remained remarkably intact. I do dip into it every now and again but it's more when I fancy a sweet treat and have the leftover calories to justify it.
I have a system of 200 calories for breakfast, 500 for dinner and 700 for tea..and then usually about 200-300 for some sort of naughtiness which I work off with exercise. I know, not the cleverest idea. The snack shouldn't be there but I find it hard to not have a nibble of something nice during the day. That's my downfall. Nibbling things. A piece of cheese whilst I'm waiting for my brew, or a handful of cracker crisp things whilst I'm cooking dinner. That's what I need to work on. That's when my will power is at it's lowest. Or when I've been working and come home at one with a rumbling stomach and eat far too much in a sort of a haze. Mostly keeping within my 500 calories but turning a blind eye if I overstep the boundary a little.
That's where me and the rowing machine used to be a team. I'd consistently work off around 400 calories (by the machines calculator) whereas with the bike I'm entirely unsure how much 40 minutes clocks up because it doesn't work. Hence why, for the last three or so months I have hovered around the 14 stone 5 mark. Recently it even crept back up to 14 stone 8 but I refused to let that happen and beat it right back down again. Hence my starting this blog again. Yes just before Christmas when the calories will no doubt go back up (I refuse to count calories during Christmas week, it's just not happening). But I didn't want this to feel like another empty New Year promise to myself.
I will endeavour to either find my rowing machine box or have another shouting match with Argos and get my arse back in gear and my rower back in shape so, post festivities, I can get back on that wagon.
...Maybe tomorrow.
For the moment though, good boo.
Tuesday, 18 December 2012
New new beginnings...
So, I actually began this blog at the start of 2012. New Beginnings to weight loss. This was going to be the year I finally lost ten stone and suddenly developed a body Kate Beckinsale would be jealous of.
Well, it didn't quite happen like that. I started the blog weighing 17 stone and change. My actual starting weight (read: the moment I got on the scales post uni final year and audibly gasped at the number) was 19 stone 5 pounds. I'd lost around two stone during 2011 but I decided 2012 was going to be. The. Year. I had been tippy typing away every day for a couple of months up until one moment where something silly happened and I posted on a friend's blog using this account by accident and had an instant stage fright moment and deleted the whole thing.
Stupid. Genuinely stupid. I feel that I would have weighed a lot less as I write this had I had some sort of diary based motivation to keep me on track. As it is this year I have lost three stone since January 31st and now weigh in around 14 stone 3-4 pounds (haven't leapt on my 'scales' in a while). A total weight loss of around five stone since the actual starting point sometime in 2011.
I am genuinely amazed that I managed to lose five stone. But at the same time, disappointed in the fact that I haven't lost more. And that is down to my own lack of self control. Let me start at the beginning...
My base weight for the last few years has hovered around the 18 stone mark. I wasn't entirely a couch potato. Prior to uni, however, I was fairly unfit. Like, walking wasn't something I was interested in because it would hurt on occasion. When I went to uni from 2007-2010 I had to get over that aversion pretty quick. As any university student will tell you, walking is the only means of getting around the place when you're on a budget and my walk to uni was just over a mile. A two mile round trip over the course of the day. The days I wasn't at uni were usually spent in the town. Another mile trip. So I was averaging, at the very least, two miles a day walking. This meant that even though I was eating crap on occasion...and drinking on more than on occasion I was fairly consistently the same weight.
But cut to third year and that all changed. Same amount of exercise but we spent much of our time toasting our last hurrahs with more nights out than usual and much more pizza. Hence my eyebrow lifting moment when I ambled onto the scales come homecoming. That was the moment I decided to change. And change I did..in the food department. But it was without the added help of real exercise. I have two little dogs I walk and (at the time) a new job which had me on my feet from 4-6 hours a day, but I was missing out on any actual cardio type activites.
Hence my new..new beginning come 2012. Santa had brought me a rowing machine. And I was destined to develop abs by 2013. Didn't quite work out like that as you might imagine. But this is already a lengthy blog post even for an intro-introduction. I'll pick it up on the morrow and attempt now to do sleep...considering it's 1am and I should already be unconscious (NB: I am an awful sleeper..I daresay it will get another mention at some point).
For now though my darlings. Good boo.
Well, it didn't quite happen like that. I started the blog weighing 17 stone and change. My actual starting weight (read: the moment I got on the scales post uni final year and audibly gasped at the number) was 19 stone 5 pounds. I'd lost around two stone during 2011 but I decided 2012 was going to be. The. Year. I had been tippy typing away every day for a couple of months up until one moment where something silly happened and I posted on a friend's blog using this account by accident and had an instant stage fright moment and deleted the whole thing.
Stupid. Genuinely stupid. I feel that I would have weighed a lot less as I write this had I had some sort of diary based motivation to keep me on track. As it is this year I have lost three stone since January 31st and now weigh in around 14 stone 3-4 pounds (haven't leapt on my 'scales' in a while). A total weight loss of around five stone since the actual starting point sometime in 2011.
I am genuinely amazed that I managed to lose five stone. But at the same time, disappointed in the fact that I haven't lost more. And that is down to my own lack of self control. Let me start at the beginning...
My base weight for the last few years has hovered around the 18 stone mark. I wasn't entirely a couch potato. Prior to uni, however, I was fairly unfit. Like, walking wasn't something I was interested in because it would hurt on occasion. When I went to uni from 2007-2010 I had to get over that aversion pretty quick. As any university student will tell you, walking is the only means of getting around the place when you're on a budget and my walk to uni was just over a mile. A two mile round trip over the course of the day. The days I wasn't at uni were usually spent in the town. Another mile trip. So I was averaging, at the very least, two miles a day walking. This meant that even though I was eating crap on occasion...and drinking on more than on occasion I was fairly consistently the same weight.
But cut to third year and that all changed. Same amount of exercise but we spent much of our time toasting our last hurrahs with more nights out than usual and much more pizza. Hence my eyebrow lifting moment when I ambled onto the scales come homecoming. That was the moment I decided to change. And change I did..in the food department. But it was without the added help of real exercise. I have two little dogs I walk and (at the time) a new job which had me on my feet from 4-6 hours a day, but I was missing out on any actual cardio type activites.
Hence my new..new beginning come 2012. Santa had brought me a rowing machine. And I was destined to develop abs by 2013. Didn't quite work out like that as you might imagine. But this is already a lengthy blog post even for an intro-introduction. I'll pick it up on the morrow and attempt now to do sleep...considering it's 1am and I should already be unconscious (NB: I am an awful sleeper..I daresay it will get another mention at some point).
For now though my darlings. Good boo.
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