New Year, (too much) New Me

Mmm, Christmas.


Goose. Roast potatoes. Cypriot baked cod. Fishcakes. Curry. Enchiladas. Chocolate. Cheese. Red wine. White wine. Beer. Champagne and steak for breakfast. Cake.

The list goes on…

So yeah, I put on half a stone in December. Not really surprising, given that I started eating whatever the hell I liked when we went to Germany on the 10th and then, well, carried on. What is surprising is that I’m really, really struggling to care.

My clothes still fit: this is probably because they were all much too big before and are now merely a bit too big. I still feel good. I think the reason for this is that a disproportionate amount of the gain seems to have gone to my chest. Having shrunk to merely ‘large’ it is now back to ‘WTF?’ So while I’m probably definitely slightly bigger all over, I have retained my proportions.

This calm feels weird. I tried on some jeans in Fat Face (the irony!) over the holiday: the 12 wouldn’t go over my thighs and the 14 wouldn’t do up. Rather than enter a shame spiral of ‘OMYGODI’MSOFATNONONONO!’ I thought “That’s stupid: I’m clearly not a 16!”

I should probably try and lose the half stone. But at the moment I’m really struggling to be bothered. So: the plan of action (these are not New Year Resolutions; I don’t do those):

• Exercise at least 3 times a week. I have started the programme from The New Rules of Lifting for Women, so will probably be focussing on weights twice a week, with a session with C to make up the 3rd.

• Eat less ridiculously. I’ve already reined it in a lot since Christmas, in that I am no longer living on cheese and chocolate with occasional big piles of meat. I realised that I’d been Doin It Rong on about the 4th of January, when I thought “I’m hungry… this feels weird… WTF? I haven’t actually been hungry for about two weeks!” Yeah. Not great. However, I’m probably only down to an average 2,000 calories a day. I should probably be eating more like 1,500-1,800.

• Not miss things, or make social occasions shit and miserable, because I’m worried about my eating. I was totally doing this before Christmas, and looking back it was REALLY STUPID.

This is busy season in my job, and unlike in some earlier years I’d like to come out at the end of March less exhausted, fat and spotty than I started, which means that eating properly and exercising need to be squeezed into my limited leisure time. I’ve filled the freezer with home-cooked food, and scheduled workout sessions several weeks in advance. I’m also working on making getting to bed on time a priority, although that does seem to cause more domestic friction than it should.

All this means I may not have much time for blogging over the coming weeks, but I’ll do my best.

What are your goals for 2011?

Reverb10 Day 5: Let Go (and some actual discussion of weight loss issues)

"What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?"

I think I just broke up with WeightWatchers.


I’d already documented my issues with the ProPoints plan. To be fair to the new plan, I had been struggling for a few weeks before that, but I’d ascribed it to general malaise and half-assed plan following. When I was once again using my whole ass, as Homer put it, the failure was harder to take.

So, as I said last week, I decided to take my trainer’s advice and eat a bit more. After a week of aiming for 1,500 calories a day I feel more energised. I’m sleepy better. I am noticeably (to other people) less stressed. In short, I feel so much better that I wouldn’t care if I wasn’t losing weight, as long as I didn’t actually gain.

But I’ve also lost about a kilo. In a week. I am certainly not complaining about that.

This feels sustainable. I had got to the point with WeightWatchers where the idea of doing the programme for a second longer than I had to made me despair; as a result every tiny gain or plateau felt like a catastrophe. This feels much more sustainable.

So I didn’t go to my meeting today. It felt odd. But I also didn’t panic about feeling a bit bloated this morning, or try to wear clothes that are as light as possible. And I didn’t spend this afternoon in my usual Tuesday post-meeting rewarding-myself mini-binge, either.

I’ll still go to the odd meeting, even if it’s just the five a year required to sustain my Gold membership. I’ll still stick the little key on my 10% keyring when I finally decide that I’m done, and I’ll certainly collect the little gold stars for maintenance every year. I may turn back to WeightWatchers if I need to lose significant amounts of weight in the future. But right now? Well, WW, I’m afraid it’s not you, it’s me.

Reverb10 Day 2

Today’s prompt is

"Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing – and can you eliminate it?"

My first thought on reading this prompt was “Well. I am so not the target audience for this game.”

Things I do each day that don’t contribute to my writing:

1. My real, bill-paying dayjob
2. Exercise
3. Cooking
4. Spending time with the Boy
5. Sitting on the couch watching TV/knitting/reading (frequently all at once).

Could I eliminate any of these? Some yes, some no.

Do I want to? Er, no.

Let’s start with number 1. I am not one of those people who dreams of giving up their dayjob to write full time. If I gave up my dayjob it would be to do more of numbers 2–5 (special emphasis on the 5), except that I know that I’d be wildly bored after about four weeks. (I had six weeks off once. Too much.) I like crunching numbers. You know where you are with numbers. I get a kick out of writing, but when I do it for a living it loses its gloss. (I know because I’ve done it.)

Numbers 2 and 3 are important for health.

Number 4 is supposed to be non-negotiable because our relationship is the most important thing in my life. I say ‘supposed’ because sadly it can sometimes be the first thing to be squeezed. (I had a similar thing at work recently where the hyper-important project with no fixed deadline kept getting set aside for less important, more urgent tasks.) Our us-time is besieged from all sides as it is without me adding “Wait, I haven’t blogged!” to the reasons why we can’t spend some quality moments together.

Number 5, well, I’m sure some of you are judging my priorities, but all I’m going to say is “Sorry I’m not sorry!”

As I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, I am not a compulsive writer. I know I do it well, and occasionally I get the urge, but most of the time I will happily do something else. I know there are those for whom nothing trumps the call of the pen keyboard – I was brought up by one – but that’s not me.

So there you have it: not quite 400 words on ‘What Is More Important To Me Than Blogging (Clue: It’s Most Things)’. Oops… On the other hand, if I didn’t do any of those things I wouldn’t have anything to write about. I’d have to blog about blogging. And I wouldn’t do it anywhere near as well as the Hollaback Girls.

In other, actually diet-and-fitness related, news – I am officially Very Annoyed with WeightWatchers. At my weigh-in on Tuesday I had apparently lost half a pound of the 2.5 I put on the previous week. Meanwhile my Leader is also irritating me. She put a lot of pressure on me to set a high goal weight, saying “You can still lost weight when you get there!” So I did. She now appears to be incapable of remembering that I’m trying to lose weight: every bloody week we have this conversation:

Her: Well done, you’re maintaining your weight!

Me: But I was trying to lose weight!

Her: Oh… why?

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. If I were cynical I would say that the high goal weight was less about ‘taking the pressure off’ and more about making her stats look good, and that now I don’t contribute to her total weight loss numbers she isn’t interested, but I’m not… oh no, wait, I am.

Meanwhile, the Boy suggested to me that I try out personal training, so for that last three weeks I’ve been doing just that. My trainer (who we’ll call C because that’s nearly her name) asked me to keep a food diary at the beginning. She had a few insights then (stop using up your spare POINTS!!!!11! on chocolate at bedtime, eat more protein, don’t eat so much bread), and when I had a moan on Tuesday night about not losing weight she came up with the suggestion that I wasn’t eating enough.

Counterintuitive, no?

The theory, she tells me, is that if you eat less than your basic metabolic rate (that’s the calories you’d burn if you didn’t get out of bed) your body will go on strike and refuse to lose weight. So you should always eat at least that much, then manufacture a deficit using exercise. My BMR is about 1,350kcal, according to the whizzy scales in the gym. 29 ProPoints is about 1,140kcal.

Now, I’ve heard about and rejected the ‘starvation mode’ argument before, but C has a degree in sports science and nutrition from a good university. And she used numbers. I’m always more convinced by numbers. And I’m very, very game to try eating an extra 350 kcal a day.

In addition to personal training, I also finally succumbed to the lure of the KiFit (US readers, that’s the UK branding of the BodyBugg). I was pleasantly surprised to find that my daily calorie burn is about 2,200kcal. So, my new plan of attack is to try to eat around 1,500kcal on weekdays and 2,000 at weekends, with a burn of 2,300. This should enable me to lose at least a pound a week.

I’m also aiming to incorporate more strength training into my workouts: as I get thinner I don’t feel like I’m getting more toned, and I don’t want to end up as one of those flabby-skinny women. I’m also starting to have loose skin issues (TMI? Meh) and strength training is reputed to help with that. With that in mind I acquired a copy of The New Rules of Lifting for Women – thoughts/review when I finally manage to finish reading it.

Reverb10: 2010 in one word

I've decided to try to participate in Reverb10, a blogging challenge which provides a prompt every day of December to help you to reflect on your 2010.

Today's prompt is 'One word'.

The one word I'd use to describe my 2010 is probably 'flux'. Lots of things have changed this year. Hell, almost everything has changed. I technically moved in with the Boy (as in I gave up the lease on my flat) on January 3rd. We got engaged. Most of our friends got married. I changed job. I've lost 30lbs.

Most of these changes aren't complete, though. Moving in together and engagement are steps on the way to marriage. And as I've said before, I don't feel like I've reached my happy forever weight yet.

So this time next year, the word I would like to sum up my 2011 is 'completion'. I'd like those changes which are still in progress to be finished and changed. I'd like to be married and at a happy weight, whatever that is.

If Scotland could win the Rugby World Cup too, that'd be nice. Unrealistic, but nice.

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.

Healthy You Challenge check-in and thoughts on balance

I lost a pound this week, bringing me to a total of 4lb off in 3 weeks.

The rational part of me, the one that knows I can't lose 3lb every week, is very happy with this. This weekend was also a bit of a social frenzy, so I took the principles that I followed last week and applied them a little more rigorously. I made slightly more effort to make sensible food choices, especially at meals where I had a full choice, and thus to save up more points for the moments when I didn't. And even when I let myself slip off the wagon slightly, I didn't go all the way. So at dinner on Friday night, while I did have battered cod and chips instead of the baked fish I'd originally planned, I didn't give in to the little voice saying "Screw it, have a burger!" At lunch on Saturday I stuck to salad. As a result I was able to approach Sunday lunch, a catered event with no choice, without the feelings of dread it would once have engendered. It's all about balance. I wish I could keep track of that more often.

For those of you near a river, punting is a remarkably good strength workout! I hadn't done it for years, and woke up yesterday with my quads especially on fire...

Culinary highlight of the week: a tie. Either the strawberry tart from Sunday lunch (more a proper tarte aux fraises than the Greggs or City Bakeries specimen of my childhood) or tonight's birthday dinner (for the Boy) of veal with new potatoes and salad, followed by fresh pineapple.

That update I promised

So... when I last posted I'd just got back from the island of frenzied bingeing Aphrodite, just started a new job, and was taking stock of the effect of that unscheduled 4-week holiday on my life.

The most tangible (or possible squeezable) effect was obvious when I stepped on the scales at my first WeightWatchers meeting two weeks ago: 11st 5lb (that's 159lb, US friends, 72kg for Antipodeans). Ouch. That's a gain of about 4kg/9lb on my pre-Cyprus weight. I felt (and still feel) remarkably undespondent about it. How often do things like that happen, after all? If I'd gained more than half a stone in four weeks of normal life, I'd be very worried indeed, but it's a bit stupid to get worked up about a circumstance that will never happen again.

I have been enjoying discovering the new Discover Plan that WeightWatchers has going on at the moment. I've been focusing on the Filling Foods (basically lean proteins, vegetables and slow-release carbs) and zero-point foods (mostly vegetables) and have found counting points much less faff than calories. Remind me of this in six months when I'm moaning about it, please...

I lost 3lb in the first week, which I was of course very happy with. I stayed the same this week, but I'm not unhappy with that - a random combination of social events this weekend meant that I ate out for almost every meal from lunchtime Friday onwards, and while I managed to balance some of it with exercise, I hadn't run far enough to make up for the fact that I ate thirty-nine points on Saturday. (I'm supposed to have 19...)

We have one of our patches of frenzied social activity coming up, with no free weekends till mid-June. I'm going to take an approach of trying to maximise exercise, attempting to make wise choices (where possible) and tracking everything. In theory. Because at least then if it all goes wrong, I'll know why.

Normalising normality

In one of the Two Fit Chicks podcast, a listener submitted the Blogger News that she had borrowed a ‘normal’ friend’s coat and been able to do it up.

I understand that victory. My two closest friends are much the same height as me and are much the same size as each other – I can remember how I felt when I joined them at that size and could finally experience the clothes-borrowing that was part of everybody else’s adolescence but which my lack of size-22 friends had denied me. We wear each other’s dresses and coats from time to time, and I still think “Hey, I can pass for normal!”

‘Pass’ is the key word there, because I very rarely actually feel normal.

I am sitting typing this in size 6 shoes, size 14 trousers and pants (which are both too big) and a size 10 jumper. My feet are exactly the average UK size, I believe, and since I’ve heard on several occasions that the average British woman is a 16, my clothes actually put me in the smaller half of the female population. The only, ahem, outlying item I’m wearing is a 30H bra.

But I still feel fat. In a lot of ways my mind still thinks I weight fifteen stone. It’s as if being morbidly obese, as well as leaving empty fat cells scattered across my body ready to absorb excess calories and reinflate, has left that space in my brain empty and dormant, just waiting for something – a look (real or imagined), a remark, a pair of jeans that don’t quite fit – to swell it into the full-blown mental scream of OH MY GOD I AM SUCH A BLOB LOOK AT ME LOOK HOW VAST I AM EWEWEWEWEWEW! My self-esteem is stretched and damaged and weakened in the same way as the skin on my inner thighs. And neither the clearly not-that-fat woman in the mirror nor the kind words of those close to me can repair it. "They're just saying that," I tell myself. If they know me well, it's kindness. If they don't, it's politeness. Which is stupid, because if I take that to its logical conclusion the only people whose opinion I can listen to are those who know and dislike me... WTF?

I worry about what all this crazy means for the future. I've long ceased to think that my life will be perfect when I lose weight - mainly because it's pretty damn good now (and I appreciate how lucky I am to feel that way most of the time). But the thing I do look to weightloss to improve is my self-esteem, and the rational part of my mind suspects that the irrational part may never be happy with my weight. I think I need to start working on my body image in tandem with working on my lifestyle.

One of my big goals when I started this journey at New Year was to wear a bikini by the pool in Cyprus. I bought it ten days ago. If I can find the courage to wear it, and feel comfortable in it despite my not-actually-totally-perfect body, I think that'll be a real step forward for me.