Claires Weight Loss Bolg
(it should be blog but I can’t spell)
Do not read if you are of a nervous disposition easily offended.
I have decided to make a concerted effort to drop my weight, after all how can I stand up in front of groups and speak about weight loss when my own journey is careering out of control.
Yesterday I spent most of the day tugging up my trousers so celebrated this obvious loss of flab by treating myself to a KitKat. What sense is that!! At the weekend I bought myself 3 tops from the Heart Foundation shop and they look great, apart from my bulging belly trying to make a guest appearance through the front. I feel fat, and ugly and slow. Climbing the stairs to the wards is an effort and on reaching the 2nd floor I am puffed, aching and ready for a sit down.
I want to lose this weight but in a painless way and I know that I can’t eat and lose so I do this very child-like thing of just pretending it isn’t happening and that everything is okay. But I know it isn’t. I don’t want to look like my Mum. She was great but not careful with herself, ate to excess and made excuses for her greed. Deep down I don’t think she was okay with how she looked but wouldn’t do anything about it. My sister lost weight with Lighterlife and did well but then lost motivation and put all back on. I don’t want to kid myself that I eat healthily when deep down I know that I am not, I’m just making excuses all of the time.
What I want is to be curvy but slim – that is my aim. Drop a dress size, be a definite size 12 not a size 14 and certainly not a size 16, been there didn’t like the physical effects. Didn’t like being slow, puffed on exertion and tired. So am adopting positive mental attitude and get this weight off.
Friday 22nd January 2010
Last night son was in charge of providing dinner for when I got home at about 8pm. As he is the man of the house, the hunter gatherer and provider of ….. bugger all really, he went out and bought a 12 inch pizza. NOT the spicy chicken one, thank goodness, as that my favourite and I would have eaten loads. He bought some meat feast creation which was full of dubious types of dead animal and tasted really mediocre. No salad in the fridge to help it go down, (the 5 bags as discussed at group had actually exploded leaving terrible debris in the fridge but that tale is for another day!) so had to make do with a slice of pizza by itself.
Managed 4 slices. How many syns in Gaviscon?
Today I have started afresh. I have got out the book, started the food diary, using my best handwriting ‘cos that is how serious I am! And have brought a small bowl of fruit to work consisting off a plum, an apricot and some lycees. A fabulous start. Had Special K with chocolate, (if you can find it), and strawberries, (dried up and wrinkly, like a victim from the film ‘The Mummy’), for breakfast using skimmed milk. Have written out shopping list which comprises mainly of the words ‘low fat’ and Muller Light (join in when you know the words). I am fit to trot! Looked in the book to find that that breakfast was 5 syns to start with. Special K Sustain is a Healthy B but then again only 28g which I could possibly fit into my eye socket.
Have just been to the wards to find prospective patients for my trials, only to be told to get off ‘cos the wards have D & V. Looks like an admin day today then. These are the hardest days, sitting at the computer, bored and restless. Suddenly the bowl of fruit looks pathetic. Why do I want food all the time, I think about it all the time. Men are supposed to think about sex every few seconds, I think of bacon sandwiches. Maybe that’s why I am alone! I resist the temptation of a grilled breakfast in the canteen and try to think of other ways to celebrate ‘its Friday’. By the time I am back in the office I am sweating, starving and wishing I had never started. It is possible to be big and beautiful, after all a well dressed woman is a well dressed woman. Then why is it that woman like Alison Moyet and Hannah Waterman have dropped their size. Is it primarily for their careers or is it that they really, truly want to go into mature life being as healthy as possible and not held back by weight related health issues like achy joints, lack of breath and sleep problems. These role models are looking forward and seeing that holding onto the ‘big girl’ mantra isn’t all it was made out to be. There are few big girls coming up on the younger scene, look at Michelle McManus, looking fabulous on Scottish TV as a presenter, curvy but definitely less of her.
Stop typing to pull up trousers – no I have not been ravaged while sitting quietly in my office, they are just shimmying down slightly. A good sign or is the bulging belly making another bid for freedom?
It’s now 11.19 hours. Why is lunchtime so late in the day? Have strategically placed bottle of water on desk as I need to drink more and sometimes we mistake dehydration for hunger.
Pick up bottle have a drink. Put down bottle. Need to pee – are the two connected?
I have been embroiled in work. Sorting out files to be exact. Not exhilarating but satisfies my obsessive compulsive desire for things facing the same way and being neat (you should see my knickers drawer!). The time is 12.15 – lunch time. I go to the restaurant (a canteen with up lighting!) and look at the desirable food. Once again Marco Pierre-White need not fear but actually the beef cobbler looks good.
I order jacket potato with baked beans with spring vegetable soup.
Looks like today is going to be a Green day after all and I thought I was on Original. The soup is salty and gluppy, obviously made from a domestic packet and stretched out with extra water as evidenced by me only having 6 pieces of veg in my tub and 3 of those look dubious. I should have bought that chicken for £5 when I had the chance and cooked it in the slow cooker then I could have made my own soup. Note to self – be more spontaneous and organised. Pudding is 4 Lycees. Now Lycees are lovely and are free but, like getting that date with the guy you have drooled over for ages, tastes nice, make you feel good about yourself but really very little comes from all that effort.
On way back from pee number 14 I walked past a tea trolley containing cake, unattended and go-go gadget arms (not under my control and directly linked to get-get gettit mouth) did not reach out and take one. Claire:1. Insatiable desire for food: 0.
I eventually go home via Morrisons. I have to go everyday, it’s like an addiction. I sometimes think that Morrisons is the equivalent of the old fashion neighbour and if the staff haven’t seen me for 24 hours then they will knock on my door and check to see if I’m still alive. I buy total rubbish and look at the chickens for £5, think about the versatility of it and promptly put it back. Dinner is gonna be a take out.
Now my children (laughingly referred to as ‘children’ although one is 19 and the other 17 and both have outstayed their welcome. Actually one was breast fed for two weeks and one was breast fed for four weeks and they had outstayed their welcome by then!), they have the ability to make a simple take out into a banquet. There are four of us (including sons girlfriend) and one would assume that two rice and two main would suffice but no, everyone wants their own. Six bloody dishes and I haven’t even chosen yet. I decide to have a bit of everyone else’s and that almost causes a riot. I resort to the old adage of ‘who is paying for this?’ Josh, (the Great Un-Washed), raises his hand. Good lad!
Friday – Green – Syns used = can’t count that high. Lost it at 11.5
Saturday 23rd January
After last night I wake with renewed vigour. I have fat free natural yoghurt, what lacks in taste makes up in ‘sense of virtueness!’, and my fruit cocktail of blueberries, kiwi fruit and grapes. It’s a busy day today with my priority being nails, eyebrows and hair, so a day of pampering.
I pop in to see Step-Dad who is doing wonderfully well after our recent bereavement. He has started to cook for himself, ok, microwave meals for dinner and Meals-on-Wheels for lunch, but Victor Meldrew of Penrith is doing well. He waxes lyrical about Somerfields frozen, pre-packed meals for one versus Morrisons frozen, pre-packed meals for one and holds forth on the subject of potato portions for the over 70’s. I eat 4 biscuits while drinking tea and listening to this rant. However the man is a feeder and has bought me, not only a Cranstons Cornish pasty (heaven in pastry!) but a maple and pecan pastry too. Well, it would be rude not to wouldn’t it so reluctantly I give in. Self loathing? disappointment? No, loved every mouthful. Note to self – find out syn value of said pasty (hopefully, about 2).
Having nails done and not feeling very bright. Start to feel achy and tired, sore throat. Pop into Morrisons and buy that chicken for £5 with view to making several meals out of it. I also buy Shreddies as these are a Healthy B for 28g so will give it a try.
Go home and take paracetamol (how many syns in them I wonder?). Decide to prepare food for family so bake bread (tomato and cheese), roast the chicken in water to make good stock and then make homemade soup (chicken and vegetable). I am domestic Goddess.
Saturday – Green. Fill in food diary = 24 syns. Slightly too many me thinks! Down on A’s and had no B’s at all, but managed to overdose on syns! I am weight loss failure.
Sunday 24th January
Now I am going to be completely focused and get my arse into gear. The last two days have been green so today I will be red I have natural yoghurt and frozen fruit for breakfast and put contents of casserole into slow cooker. Now this casserole is known as ‘Saturday Casserole’ because my Mum used to make it on a Saturday before going off to do the Provident round. She left early morning and by the time she came home it was cook and delicious. It consists of braising steak or stewing steak, a tin of tomatoes, a tin of butter beans and some split peas. The longer it cooks, the better so it’s ideal for a slow cooker. The Great Un-Washed, (TGUW) and My Glamorous Assistant, (MGA) are totally confused about having casserole on a Sunday. But hang on a mo! It’s a red day today so whats with the lentils and beans. Bugger, I’ll have to change. It’s a green day today and Saturday casserole (on a Sunday) will be perfect.
Feel awful, go back to bed. Hot, cold and shivery. One cup of tea brought up to me by MGA. I am neglected, dying and fat! My hair looks great though.
Sunday – Green, or is it red? Syns = 8
Monday 25th January
I will crack this if it kills me. Still feel awful. Spend 30 minutes on phone trying to get GP appointment. Put Cranstons Pork and Apple burgers into slow cooker and cover with left over casserole, switch on and leave alone. Breakfast is again yoghurt and fruit but this time I have Shreddies too. 28g to be precise and for that you get 40.
TGUW is waxing lyrical about Shreddies, apparently his Father gets them in for him especially when he goes and stays with him. Typical, not a penny given towards his education but remembered for buying bloody breakfast cereal. I carried that boy for 9 months and was left with stretch marks, piles and an A.W.O.L pelvic floor. Every penny I earn is spent on those ingrates and father is on a pedestal for a box of £2.49 Shreddies!!! Didn’t like to say that it is his Step-Mother who actually buys the food for the children but that’s another story.
I am surprised at how full I feel after eating this breakfast and how I don’t actually feel hungry until mid-morning now as opposed to 10 minutes after eating. Perhaps this eating healthily is beneficial after all!
Now having got into the habit of making bread every day and now getting into experimenting with the ingredients I feel compelled to try my efforts. Now having been a fan of ‘The Restaurant’ Raymond Blanc persistently told the participants to taste, taste, taste so taste I must.
4 slices later I feel that I have reached the pinnacle of bread making and can relax in the baking department.
Monday – Green. Syns = 12. Is that right? Where did I go wrong?
Tuesday 26th January
Still feel lousy and would probably do better if left to die, however, world still spinning and children cannot possibly do shopping let alone MAKE THEIR MOTHER A CUP OF TEA.
Decided to cash in prescription for antibiotics to see if that improves the situation. Start taking Penicillin, throat not better, bottom springs into action. Now, ‘antibiotic bum’ is a recognised medical condition and it has been known for people to have to stop taking the meds because they are never off the loo. I can break the porcelain on a good day and have been known to block loos at work so this could be interesting. I will cut down on the fruit, just in case and not go too far from home.
Whilst at Morrisons I treat myself to a newly invented Maltesers Bunny. I try one, WOW! That was good. I can add those to my daily treat and leave my Freddo The Frog alone for a bit. 9 syns – You’re havin a laugh!
Spag Bol for dinner, using Passatta. An a jelly for pud. On offer at Morrisons, 3 for £1. Even MGA is into those so have to buy double.
Tuesday – Red. Syns = 12.5. Malteser Bunny is to blame! Note to self – stick to frogs and leave bunnys well alone.
Wednesday 27th January
I have a confession to make. I watch Alan Titchmarsh. I know, I know. I look normal (ish) and I sound as though I am from this planet but AT (to his friends) is really quite harmless and his chattering on is pretty inoxuous. Anyway, he had Rusty Lee on and she was cooking a spicy beef and plantain dish which I have decided to try. I go to Morrisions (I told you I was there a lot) and buy the ingredients.
I have my usual Shreddies , yoghurt and fruit for lunch and then I have prawns in mayo with lettuce and balsamic vinegar for lunch, all was delicious. I am still taking the Penicillin and me and the bathroom are now intimately acquainted. However, I start drinking water. I am not a great drinker of water and can go days without having a single glass. Tea I drink every 5 minutes but water is not something that I ‘go for’. Have found bottle and fill it. Start to drink throughout the day. Drink, pee, drink, pee. I am too busy to do anything else. Actually since being off work I have knitted a pair of socks. I get tired doing any activity but can manage to sit and knit – bliss!
While cooking I suddenly feel really hungry, the type of hungry that comes with shakes and sweating. Obviously my blood sugar has dropped so I down a yoghurt and a jelly. Start to feel better. Obviously I haven’t eaten enough so have frozen fruit with more yoghurt. This takes time to eat as the fruit freezes the yoghurt but it certainly does the trick.
Enjoy spicy beef with plantain served with rice and peas. Not only am I domestic Goddess but multi-cultural one too!
Wednesday – Red. Syns = 5. I did it, I did it!
Weigh in = Now weigh in for me will have to be on a Wednesday so I can write up this diary for Thursday so............ Weigh in = 12st 6.5lbs from 12st 9.5lbs
3.5 lbs off!!!!!
I lie in bed and reflect on the day. My hands rest on my belly and as I am lying on my side I realise that my beloved ‘pod’ is getting out of control. I have a dimple in my belly and if I squeeze either side of it I can make the shape of a face. I could probably set up a vaudeville act, ‘Claire and her amazing talking belly’. I lie on my back and my pod disappears, probably gone to the same place as my boobs (they too disappear when I lie on my back) and my hip bones are only just poking through. There must be more interesting things to do in bed!
Thursday 28th January
Although I am not a well woman I have to do group. I have this diary to introduce as well as the photo album. I have only printed photos onto copier paper but the quality is great. The slow cooker is on full alert tonight so when I get home from group I have casserole waiting for me and whilst the Slimming World computer is working out the high finances, I boil some potatoes and Bobs Your Uncle!
Thursday – Green. Syns = 7 (including a 2 finger Kitkat.)
Friday 29th January
Today started well but ended up a total loss. Step-Papa has done his sabotage thing again and presented me with a Cranstons pastie and a Pegan/Maple Syrup pastrie, which as a consolation was below standard! I then got a phone call from my friend asking me out for my supper so off to The Lounge we go.
2 cocktails, beef strips, fries, deep fried Brie and crab cakes later, me and my bloated belly are sitting uncomfortably watching Jonathon Ross. I cannot even work out the Syn value of my simple meal but as I loved every mouthful I decide to let it lie.
Friday – Red. Syns = Too many to mention
Saturday 30th January
Today is the day of exercise. I am going to clean my house. I listened to an article on the radio that said that Which magazine had decided that housework used up more calories than Ninetendo Wii so while MGA cleaned the lounge and dinning room I cleaned the bathroom, kitchen, stairs and hallway. I plugged into Micheal Buble on my iPod and ‘swang’ while I cleaned.
We started at 10.30 and finished at 2.30 so lunch was missed, never mind a crème egg will surfice!. Tonight we are having prawn, noodle and Pak Choi soup followed by salmon and pasta. Another green day.
Not only did Step-Papa have another pastrie up his sleave (not literally, I have limits to wear I get my indulgencies) but I have broken an acrylic too.
Saturday – Red. Syns = About 20!
This needs some serious consideration. My Step-Father fed my Mother, as he now turned his foodie attentions onto me. We, (at this point I claim my Brother and Sister), were brought up by a strict Mother and less strict Father. We were brought up to celebrate everything with food. And I mean everything, birthdays, weddings, end of the week, promotions. My Mother ‘treated’ with food, a cake here, a bun there. She became diabetic in her later years but as young woman she was slim and attractive. Her own weight didn’t rise until after the birth of 3 children. She was brought up in post-war Britain and could remember rationing. So everything was favoured and you cleared your plate. As children we were all brought up to eat whatever was put in front and never to decline food as it was an insult to the host to refuse. My Mother was not the exception in this. Many a broken of heart was mended with food, we ate out and because of my Mother working in the East End of London for most of her teaching career, we were introduced to multi-cultural cuisine too so there was no stopping us. In fact our food world just got bigger from an early age. So do I carry that on in my own little family unit. Why do I ‘treat’ with food and not say, a ball of wool (fanatical knitter!), a magazine, a diamond!! It is something to think about! (not the diamond but the alternative treat!)
Sunday 31st January
Supposed to go to see my Sister in Durham today but as I am driving over I feel unwell, weight in my chest, heavy feeling, so I turn around and come home. Now my Sister has read an article about ovarian cancer this week and because I have mentioned my antibiotic bum she has decided that I have it. I promise to visit the doctor tomorrow as I feel that Cue-doc will be ill prepared for my Sisters on slaught of my symptoms and I go home to sit in the chair. I don’t even feel like knitting, now that says it all. At 11am I have a cup of tea, yes made by MGA so I know that I am on the way out, and on goes back episodes of Hollyoaks. She knows how to kick you when you’re down does MGA!. The next thing I know it’s 3.30.Now that was a big waste of a Sunday!
MGA is also asleep and someone in Hollyoaks is slagging off someone else in Hollyoaks so I don’t think that I’ve actually missed much. Anyway, onwards and upwards. I decide to slap some bread in the bread maker (please note that I am now so routine in making bread that it is no longer an enlightening experience) I put on the slow cooker and put in chicken pieces, a courgette, a re pepper and a box of passatta and switch on. Tomorrow is sorted. Now for tonight. TGUW is due back from work soon so I decide on chilli and rice and fry off some turkey mince, spring onions, red pepper, and mushrooms. I open a tin of kidney beans; add a chicken stock cube and a shake of chilli pepper, salt and black pepper and my creation is complete. I leave to let the ingredients get to know each other and will serve with rice later on upon the hunter, gatherers return.
Week of 20th February
This week started s a total and utter loss, a waste of a week quite frankly. I could not get it together with regards to...... anything really. I have been hungry to the point of absurd and have indulged in chinese take-away (mediocre) and fish and chips (delicious). I ran out of Total yoghurt and had to make do with Shreddies and milk for breakfast and lunch, although my fav Ceasar salad, just was not enough. I had a marinated lime and chicken tortilla one day for lunch, and two days of sandwiches bought from the hospital shop and contained something! So all in all my week was spontaneous and wild, actually it was poorly planned and undirected. Work was busy but uneventful and homelife was busy and vey eventful.
As you know I have joined a fitness centre so on Friday I decided to go to Yoga with m work colleague, Nicci. Now Nicci is twenty plus years younger than me and trained as a Physio so very fit. Hatha Yoga was on from 4 pm until 5 pm and followed by Power Yoga. We decided to go for the Hatha Yoga with an open option for Power Yoga. The instructor explained the difference between the two and we decided to go from the first option. I have never been very flexible and put it down to having longer legs than arms. We breathed, stretched and postured. I ached, grunted and spasmed but at no time did I fart! The relaxation at the end was lovely and I left feeling very ‘at one’. On the way home I felt fantastic. I felt very relaxed but invigorated at the same time. Nicci and I are going to work towards doing the Power Yoga. I did sleep really well.
On Saturday I went and bought my knitting magazines and there in one of them was a pattern for Yoga Socks. I could not believe it. The Universe has spoken to me. I am destined to touch my toes. I will be that flexible person! I am knitting Yoga Socks – put your names on the waiting list provided.
In the light of the Universe picking me out I have re-planned my fridge and cupboards. Which means that I now have food. I have also agreed to go to Sunday morning ‘Zumba Dance’ sessions. It starts at 9.30 on a Sunday morning, which means I need to be in bed on Saturday night for 9 pm. Now I only agreed to do this to keep my much younger work colleague company. She was going out on Saturday night with friends so no doubt she would be tired, hung over and all together not fully functioning. We agreed to meet in the car park and she was there! Looking bright, refreshed and young. The youth of today are so unreliable!
Anyway, the class started with the hypnotic latin beat. I kept up with the instructor as we salsa’ed, mamba’ed and cha-cha’ed around the room, I mean studio. We stayed at the back so we could not see ourselves in the mirror (which covered two of the four walls). The group was full of different ages and sizes which was great and I was glad that I was not the oldest. Now, I don’t know if you have seen ‘Malcolm in the Middle’ when Louis goes to dance classes and the teacher advises her to changes tutors because she has ‘out grown’ his class. In her head she is sublime, floating around the room and totally in tune with the music. In reality the tutor has asked her to change classes because he cannot cope with her uncoordinated, desperate attempts at dance. Well, that was me. I thought I was totally ‘in the zone’, hips swayed, keeping up with the class, shimmying everything that could be shimmied. I then caught sight of a tall middle aged woman in black 3 beats behind everyone else and totally stiff form the knees up.
We had to gyrate our hips, which actually caused me pain and then we moved parts that, to be honest, I had not moved since the night I conceived my eldest. However, the music was hot, I was hot and oh, how Lycra can chaff! We had to do this move where we moved our shoulders from side to side which waggled our chests. Now, I spent £27.99 on my sports bra to keep my buzuums up, down and contained. Now I had to waggle them frantically all in the name of fitness – doesn’t make sense to me.
At 9.45 I looked at the clock and was delighted that the time had gone by so quickly. I mentally patted myself on the back, I had been dancing for 45 minutes and was only just feeling that death would be a welcome release. Then I realised that the session started at 9.30 and that I had actually been going for only 15 minutes! By 10.10 I was wondering if the paramedics would come into the group or if I had to crawl out of the studio to meet them. By 10.20 my heart was pleading with me to stop and my pelvic floor, like Elvis, had long since left the building. Then the words I longed to hear, ‘only two more songs to to, leeeetttts Zumba!’ I somehow managed to keep up (3 beats behind is still ‘keeping up’) and at the end of the session I walked to the car leaving Nicci to do some gym work (I did say that youth are unreliable!). I was suitably sweaty, flushed and toned, an advertisement for healthy living. Actually, I limped across the car park, had sopping wet hair and was so flushed I looked like I had contracted a tropical disease.
Same again next week.
