Hurrah!

I am a healthy weight. When I stepped on the scales yesterday they read 10 stone 2lb, which gives me a BMI of 24.8.


I know it’s only just under 25, and that BMI is a dubious measure anyway. I am not finished yet; I don’t feel that this is my happy weight. But still…

I am a healthy weight! I have never been able to say that as an adult before.

It makes me think, too. I read a post recently – I’m afraid I cannot for the life of me remember where – on acknowledging how far we’ve come. I think I quite often forget to do that. When cursing about being not quite being able to get into size 10 trousers, I forget the morbidly obese 18-year-old who thought she’d never be a size 12. When I complain that I can’t run a 10K in under 70 minutes, I forget that once upon a time I couldn’t run 100 yards.

I haven’t reached my weight or fitness goals just yet. Here isn’t a place I want to stay long. But here was once a place I never thought I’d make it to.

I feel strong now, and confident. There are nine weeks till Christmas (eek!) and I have 9lb left to my goal of nine and half stone. Let’s see how close I can get.

Culinary highlight of the week: Sunday’s roast chicken and vegetables. More specifically, the roast potatoes, which were easily the best I’d ever made.

Dress shopping, and the many, many ways it can screw you up

I can’t speak for the wedding industry anywhere else, but here in the UK it’s very, very focused on weight loss. There’s a reasonable assumption that you want to look your very best on your wedding day, coupled with an unreasonable assumption that a key part of this will be losing significant amounts of weight, and wedding magazines and websites are crammed with tips which range from the sensible to the downright irresponsible (like tips on how to distract yourself from hunger if you’ve adopted the ‘just don’t eat’ approach).

I’m aware that it’s a little bit hypocritical of me to complain about this, since I’m currently trying to lose weight. But there’s a fine but crucial distinction to me. I’m not losing weight for my wedding. Sure, I’d like to be at my goal weight by then, but if I’m not, I won’t give up. And I was losing weight before I got engaged – it’s not a crazy crash diet that I’ll forget about as soon as the wedding’s over.

But after dipping my toe in the waters of wedding dress shopping, I can sure as hell see why people go on crazy crash diets, because a whole host of factors combine to test your body confidence to the limit

• Wedding dress sizes seem to run very small. I know this is probably because they haven’t been subject to the rise in vanity sizing, but still… I’m a UK 8 on my top half, and none of the styles I tried on were fitted below the waist. I was a 12 in most styles, with a couple of 14s. I’m used to being a range of sizes because I’m pearshaped, and I make my own clothes so I understand old-school sizes, but I still found irrationally depressing.
• There’s only one sample of every style. If that doesn’t fit you, well, tough. Most of them were (small) 12s. There were a few 14s, and one 10 which wouldn’t go round my ribs. As I said, on my torso I’m an 8. The average UK woman is a 16. That’s an awful lot of people that particular shop was dismissing. It’s very hard to judge if a dress suits you if it’s two sizes too big, but it’s basically impossible if it won’t do up.
• You’re getting your kit off in front of total strangers. Some people might be able to get a full-length, multi-skirted dress on unassisted, but I’ve never met any of them. (Suddenly I understand why Victoria ladies needed ladies’ maids to help them dress…) The dress shop assistant will be seeing you in your bra and pants, and will be tutting to herself if the dress has trouble getting past your arse. (I had one lady who insisted that I step into everything, but then did this every time! If you’re that worried, drop it over my head instead, duh.)
• Something you try on is probably going to make you look like a hippo in drag. For me it was the fishtail skirted dress I picked up accidentally. I was able to console myself with the knowledge that the shape is specifically designed to add bulk to your hips… not something I need. But hey, the whole point of the process is so that you can avoid looking like a hippo in drag on the day itself, and surely that’s worth it? (If anybody is having a cross-dressing hippo-themed wedding (and somewhere, I’m sure somebody is…), I apologise for any offence given. I’m sure it’ll be lovely, touching and personal.)

I totally support anybody’s right to lose weight for a special occasion, but if you’re trying to be a size XX on your wedding day, start early. Be prepared for setbacks. And try not to let dress shopping get to you…

Actual shrinkage!

I bought a wedding dress at the weekend.

Now, it’s not my intention to turn this into a wedding planning blog. Wedding planning is to my mind only ever interesting if you are a) connected to the wedding in question or b) planning a wedding yourself. If you fall into category B I can recommend any number of excellent sites dedicated to the topic (and some which will make your eyes pop out in horror/bemusement), and I don’t think many people in category A are reading this. There is a weight-loss angle on my purchase, honest.

You see, I bought a dress that fits me now. Not a dress that will fit me in half a stone or a stone’s time. The traditional model of dress shopping is that you try on a sample, which may or may not fit you (I’ve been lucky – only one has been too small and most have fitted well). If that’s the dress for you, you then order one to be made, which takes a preposterously long time. Because made-to-order is not the same as made-to-measure, you order a standard size which is then altered to fit you.


(The whole wedding dress industry is also revoltingly sizeist and judgmental, but that’s a whole other post (which I will probably write this week while it’s on my mind).)


Until Saturday I thought that was the route I was going to take, and was already agonising about whether to order the size that fits me now or the next size down.

However, there is also the sample sale route. At the end of a season, or when a dress is withdrawn by the manufacturer, shops are left with their samples, which they had to buy from the manufacturer. They then sell these to recoup some of that cost. However, because they have been hanging around in the shop being tried on, and may be last season’s design, they are usually sold at a hefty discount. The dress I bought on Saturday was one such sample. It was there, it was preposterously reduced, it was beautiful, and I had to buy it there and then if I wanted it. So I did.


I was worried that buying a dress in my current size would an admission of defeat. I didn’t want to allow the possibility of not getting to my goal weight before the wedding. But having actually done, I find I’m able to consider the issue in a slightly saner way, and have come to three conclusions:

• Most of my excess weight is now on my hips and thighs. While I don’t want to say too much in case the Boy is reading, I don’t think it would be a surprise to him that I haven’t chosen something that is fitted in those areas, so shrinkage there won’t affect the fit.
• If I do lose weight in such a way that the dress doesn’t fit, well, I’ll get it altered! Because it was one of a kind I won’t then think “Dammit, why didn’t I order the next size down?”
•  If I don’t lose a single pound between now and my wedding day, I know I’ll still look fabulous. (Honeymoon beaches are a different issue, but never mind…)

This feels like a bit of a breakthrough. The other breakthrough is that yesterday I finally lost weight again – a pound off to bring me to 10 stone 4lb. I am extremely relieved as the plateau was doing Bad Things to my mental state. One more pound will get me to 10% of my bodyweight lost, and I really want that crappy keyring!

October goal update: my ‘exercise every day’ goal fell victim to a cold last week – I decided that if I was ill enough not to go to work I was ill enough not to Shred… I’m still trying to get every other day this month, though. I managed to track every day this week. I failed rather on the ‘not going nuts’ front – Saturday’s dinner was a bit excessive – and on the drinking 2l of water every day. I’ll try again this week.


Culinary highlight of the week: a tie between the garlic, cheese and caramelised onion pizza bread on Saturday night and the haggis panini I had for lunch on Sunday. NOM.

Some things go wrong, others go very very right, and I still can't write good titles

I’m sure that my few readers have abandoned me in disgust long since, but just in case anybody would like to know, here’s the story of the not-quite three months since my last post.

Eleven days after it, on the 29th of July 2010, I drove to the Big City where I used to live after work, to go to the dentist. I was a bit miffed when I got there to discover that they hadn’t bothered to tell me in advance that they were no longer offering NHS treatment. NHS dentists are at such a premium in this part of the world that I would happily drive 40 miles to get to one, but private dentistry I can get round the corner. I haven’t been back.

Anyway, I was in a bit of a mood when I left. Since the Boy had previously said that he’d make dinner, I phoned him to tell him I was coming back. “Call me when you get to junction 12 of the motorway” was his response. This was unusual, but since it’s about ten minutes away I figured that he was trying to time dinner to be ready when I walked through the door (I have given up on doing that – there’s always a traffic jam and then something ends up overcooked or cold. But I digress…). So I did.

When I got home, the house was immaculate, there were candles burning, and the Boy was clutching a little square box.

Oh. My. God.

We’d talked about marriage, so the question wasn’t totally out of the blue, but the timing was a beautiful surprise.

I said yes.

Then we went for dinner at our favourite restaurant. I had mozzarella salad, he had seared tuna, we shared a rare chateaubriand and a huge bucket of chips. We drank champagne and Languedoc and babbled about the future like excited children.

The next day, Friday, we went to a wedding and told his family. The day after, we went to another wedding and told mine. On Sunday we had 1st of August raclette with my mum and dad (it’s the day we conveniently remember that we’re Swiss in order to eat too much cheese). On Monday we drove home after enjoying fish and chips at a favourite haunt in Glasgow, where I was very touched that the waitress remembered and congratulated me, despite my not having been there for about five years.

I didn’t lose any weight that week, somewhat unsurprisingly, nor really for the next four or five. August brought a new set of people to see every weekend, each of whom wanted to celebrate with us. Which on the one hand is lovely, but on the other does lead to excesses. The month culminated with a three-day weekend where we invited everybody over for a six-mile country walk during the day followed by a party in the evening. Both events were lovely, and we were incredibly touched to see so many of our friends – 21 over the course of the day – turn out to celebrate with and congratulate us.

Looking at my spreadsheet I can see that I gained half a pound that week, bringing me back to half a pound down from the weight I was that day I went to the dentist. September was supposed to be the ‘getting back on it’ month – the partying was over and real life (and wedding planning) were back. Plus there was the 10K coming up.

Ah. I didn’t mention the 10K, did I? After running one in mid-July, I got all excited about running again and persuaded the Boy that we should enter another, on September 12th. It was 8 weeks away, plenty of time to train!

Or, as it turns out, plenty of time to, er, not run for seven weeks. I had been doing plenty of other exercise (just not quite enough to do more than hold steady against August’s excesses) but was still feeling pretty apprehensive.

Anyway, I digress. September. Back on it. Nose to the grindstone. Etc.

Yeah, not so much. Lose, gain, lose, same, same. Net loss for five weeks – 1lb. Net loss since P-day – 1.5lb.

Gah.

I’m getting pretty damn frustrated. This week I did everything right - ate my points, exercised five days out of seven - and was really expecting to lose. When I got on the scales and saw 10 stone 5 again, I’m afraid I cried.

At a WeightWatchers meeting.

In public.

Crap.

My Leader, possibly in an attempt to get me to stop bloody crying, decided that the solution is to ‘take the pressure off’. She’s moved my goal weight to 10 stone 4, the very highest it can be (and, by my maths, actually just outside the healthy BMI range, but never mind). I have mixed feelings about this. I originally set my goal at 9 stone 7 because I wanted getting there to be a genuine achievement, and for it to be a weight where I would be happy. If I got to 9 stone 9 or so and felt that I needed to lose more than another couple of pounds, I would have dropped it. As it is, getting to Goal will be a bit of an anticlimax, because I know that 10.4 will not be a happy weight for me. I have a very small frame and should probably be nearer nine stone than ten, but won’t know until I get there. All I know is that I am not comfortable with the amount of excess flab I am currently toting around.

On the other hand, Goal = free meetings = £20 per month to spend on something else, and there is no reason why I can’t keep losing weight.

So, my resolutions for this week:

• Exercise every day. I aim to do some kind of workout every day in October, and have bought the 30-Day Shred DVD to facilitate this.
• Track properly and fully (ie without strange cryptic notes), so that if I get on the scales next week and it’s all gone wrong again I have something I can show my Leader and discuss.
• Not go nuts on Saturday, when we are going to a wedding fair (free samples) or Sunday, when we have a tasting booked with our caterer (free whole meals).
• Drink 2l of water a day.

I am also aiming to blog at least once a week, on Wednesdays. There may also be other posts on an ad-hoc basis, but I need a minimum structure to work to.

I hope you all have good, successful weeks.