Been a long time...

...but I am still here, and still reading what you lovely people write, although things have been relatively hectic of late so I haven't commented too much. 

Hmmm, busy. Now some of that is probably down to working full-time again. Funny how it consumes such a lot of my time, eh? That said, a few months in, I'm still enjoying the 'new' job, although people seem to have been leaving in their droves since I started. Something I said perhaps? Nah, don't be daft. 

It's good, in part, because I'm still learning - every single day. It's keeping my mind active. I'm constantly problem-solving, and I've been a bit surprised that I enjoy the interaction with people from around the world, and the feeling of being at least 'some' help to a fair number of them. 

Having been a lady of (enforced) leisure for some months beforehand, it's been a bit of an adjustment. I am finding that I get fairly tired in the evenings, especially by the end of a week, so feel less inclined to write. Hey, do you think the fat lass could be getting older? You betcha!

Life has dropped a few worries my way too, but that's life for you. Nothing too horrendous, but you know what it's like at 2 a.m. when the bad thoughts won't stop and let you get a good night's sleep.

Another time-hungry thing, I'm still heading to the gym three times a week (for a fantastic 2 hour session at the weekend at my favourite bodybuilding/boxing gym, interspersed with two shorter sessions in the carpeted luxury of that workplace gym before work).

I am seeing gradual changes too as I am definitely stronger than when we first started. Now and again though (er, like yesterday) I do get a bit disheartened and feel like I'm not making sufficient progress - whatever the hell that actually means. 

On these days, which usually coincide with seeing beautifully proportioned, slim, strong young women doing, apparently quite effortlessly, something I struggle with, I feel ancient and useless. That's when I become super conscious of my saggy regions of excess skin, the remaining fatty deposits (around the belly and thighs in particular), and those 'oh so attractive' flabby bits. There may now be some muscle underneath, but it's masked by stuff it would take a surgeon's skills to uncover, dammit!

But, for when this does happen, I have a cunning plan. Yep, the fat lass still puts her 'cunning plans' to good use.

What I do is this. I stop, and mentally kick my posterior (only mentally as yet - I need yoga classes to get flexible enough to do it for real), then remind myself of a few home truths.

Things like the fact that I am loved, just the way I am. Such a tiny thing to say, but so very important. I'm loved by my darling lovely hubby, by the best sister a woman could have, by other family and by friends. I am so lucky.

Things too, like 'who' and 'what' I am these days, and whatever I may 'look' like, is the result of over 57 years of living, some of which (actually way too many) were lived being morbidly obese, inactive and in a fair degree of pain. You know that old saying about reaping what one sows? Well, I guess that's me. But, that was then... 

...and this is now. And I am 100% sure that 'now' is a very much better place. Yes, I remember the way things were and, although I regret a lot of it, it generates a deep sense of gratitude. 

I may not have a model's body (never did and never will), but I have a body which works pretty well in the circumstances. It hasn't failed me and it keeps trying to make things better for me. It's lighter than 'before' (at around the 55kg mark still). It's stronger than before. It's healthier than before (I think - no, I'm certain of it). It gives me less pain and, when clothed, I am content that it looks quite reasonable.

You know what? I'm going to keep on treating that body kindly. I will continue with the weights work to keep the prospect of muscle-loss and osteoporosis at bay (and I may even look up a yoga class to get a bit more flexible). I will give it good, wholesome food to eat, and clean fresh water to drink (with the odd scotch, I'll admit). I will remember to appreciate it.

Hey, does that remind anyone of anything? Yes, I am becoming more and more like my darling my Mother, and counting my blessings. Now if that isn't a good thing I don't know what is!

Onwards, and holding that gratitude like a beacon, ever upwards...

Getting a grip!

Right fat lass. It's all very well recognising that you are struggling, but it simply isn't enough. Monday morning dawns again and it's time to realise that all the moaning and mithering in the world never did you any good, so you just need to get on with it and DO what you know is the right thing for your health, and that's mental as well as physical wellbeing. 

Yep, life is uncertain (sure, it's a bowl of cherries - just don't forget that cherries come complete with hard stones to break the odd tooth), and it's unsettled and a tad scary right now, but worrying will not help worth a damn.

All it does is allow that sneaky flea-ridden black dog the opportunity to settle down on the sofa and make himself at home... and he is not a welcome house guest!

So, what are you going to do about it, eh? Make a plan, and start putting the plan into action today. So, to the plan:

1) Drink more water (yes, I know it's harder when the weather is still not warm but just do it!)
2) Get out there and w-a-l-k... every single day! Then once the breathing is a bit easier (and it WILL improve), get back on the rower.
3) Choose what you eat with good sense, stick to your choices and be mindful when you eat. Make time, and savour those textures and flavours.
4) Take note of the good stuff - yes, those blessings. Make time to SEE them, and properly recognise them for the positive things they are.

You're not in a bad place, it's a great place to be. The weight, although back up to where I was before the bug bit, is apparently stable at 54kg. So, let's make sure it doesn't increase. Do the right thing now and you won't have to undo any damage once it's happened.

Oh, did you say cherries?

Oh bottoms... and other things

My darling lovely hubby and the fat lass took a day's leave on Friday for a nice long weekend (we had something planned that we'd hoped was going to be a pretty good thing to do). But oh wobbly bottoms, flabby bellies and unkempt toenails! [the words in my head are much more rude] Things did NOT go even slightly to plan.

That Friday 'nice' and 'positive' thing turned out to be a significant failure, right at the final hurdle (sorry folks, can't tell you yet what it should have been at the moment). On top of that hubby had a bad head and the sniffles and then I was the one to develop a chesty man-flu doodah! Needless to say, we both didn't have a cheery weekend with that stuff happening. We're both at work today (albeit feeling bleh), but several of my colleagues rang in and are off with the same chesty thing and I'm seriously peeved as that's now three bouts of feeling crook within a month! Listen you health gods, this is NOT supposed to happen!! Guess I must be run down - certainly feel like it.

Worse, our food plans went a bit awry too. We did eat what we'd planned (good 'ol keto plans stayed intact), but to be honest it wasn't really very nice. Various odd and unusual disasters ensued. Although the sauteed chicken hearts were nice, the beautiful heart-shaped eggs I cooked (or tried to) for lovely hubby leaked out around the mould into the pan and looked a complete mess. Broken hearted was definitely the feeling!

Then Sunday evening we tried the new Systema microwave steamer thingy for the first time - sorry, but we're going back to the traditional steaming on the stove-top method. The poor cauli was horrid!

Worse, we discovered that the lovely looking ham hock we'd slow cooked turned out to be more fat than meat... er, a lot more. And, as much as we welcome fat it wasn't quite what we had in mind and that's also kiboshed our weekday breakfast plans as no leftovers emerged after I'd disposed of all the slimy bits.

There were some silver linings - hubby lost a kilo last week (not that he needs to desperately but it's something he's been wanting to do) and we did have a few positive bits on Saturday. So just be grateful fat lass. Life IS good - you just need to think about what others are going through right now and remember how damned LUCKY you are.

All in all, though it was less successful that we'd have liked there are still enough of Mum's blessings floating around to rescue matters. Like the beautiful flowers (tulips and daffodils) we bought. Like the crisp frost this morning. Like cuddles from my darling man.

More heavenly stuff...

Slow cooker dry 'roasting' madness has ensued chez nous - I think we're pretty much convinced now... or is that, perhaps, addicted?

We've now tried our hand with a gammon ham (soaked first to tone down the saltiness), a whole free range chicken (no added water but I stuffed a bunch of fresh sage leaves in the cavity), and a lamb shoulder joint (OK, we did slather this with yoghurt, mint and chilli).

All I can do is groan quietly with repletion and say 'yummy'. I think this technique is definitely a winner!

On a slightly tangential but food related note, I've been reading something written by Olga Tikhonova Irez over at Delicious Istanbul about her new kitchen. Now I'm a bit of a fan at the best of times, but she's excelled herself this time. Two phrases she's used in her most recent post are so beautifully poetic.

When she describes her kitchen (not the largest nor most high-tech in the world), she anthropomorphises and says of the kitchen:

She gracefully lets me use her modest premises in exchange for respect.

This touched me, that she feels her kitchen has a personality of its own. Mine does too... er, and not always a benevolent one mind you. Mine definitely informs me if I'm unwelcome!

The other phrase she used described the view from her window at the end of a day and she wrote:

When you would think the light is gone for the day, it flashes a Cheshire cat smile through the thickets of the trees in the neighbors garden...

Ooh, what a lovely image that brought to mind.

Other matters - weight is still more or less where I want it to be, although getting a pound or two off is still the game plan. Connie, the rower, is still going well. Lovely hubby and I are both healthy* and spring is surely not too far around the corner now we've hit February. All in all, life is good and I'm counting blessings whenever possible.

*I got a letter from my GP regarding the results of that mid-life health check. Apparently, the aim of this was to 'detect potential problems before they do real damage' and with my results I'm 'low risk' so they don't want to see me for five years. When I looked up exactly what these 'risks' they were interested in assessing were, the NHS listed "heart disease, stroke, diabetes, kidney disease and some forms of dementia". So, low risk eh? Sounds good enough to me!

Changing my perspective

Monday morning was wet and rainy. In fact it was very, VERY wet, and you can add windy, dark, chilly, and decidely... bleh to that. Having trogged into work (in the blasted rain), towelled my soggy self down when I got here and then set to the beginning of my week, it was still wet, gloomy and 'orrible outside.

Thus I didn't start the week with my mood in the most positive light in the first place. Guess what? Then I was hit by an unexpected Monday morning 'thing' to deal with (right now !), just as I was trying to get prepared for one of our regular group meetings for which I write and circulate an agenda, then chair, contribute to, note-take and minute! (oooh dear, what a 'poor me' sentence that is).

Best laid plans and all that stuff... so by now I was a bit growly, and while I waited to get into our meeting room, I grumpily mentioned the 'blasted rain' and resulting autumn miseries to my colleague. Oh gosh. What he said in reply stopped me dead and made me rethink.

He's from Africa - and from an area not noted for copious amounts of precipitation. The ensuing droughts obviously had a major impact on him and his family as he grew up, and he very gently reminded me that he sees things rather differently. He told me that in his eyes rain is a great gift from God. Rather than something unwanted, it is actually something desperately needed to sustain life.

His kids were born in the UK and sometimes they moan about the British weather to their Dad, so he said he tells them that they mustn't ever complain about the rain, and reminds them why. When that next happens I've asked him to remind me too - so I don't forget either what a blessing the rain can be.

In a funny way, he reminded me of my darling and so very much missed Mum, and this brought into mind her favourite hymn, particularly the verse about the seasons:
Summer and winter, and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above,
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.
Then there's the chorus (which reduces me to tears as I hear her voice singing it) goes:
Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see;
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided— 

Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

 

Autumn blessings indeed.

The Black Dog and the Brat

Having been moving along this personal journey now for a fair few years (I started on my 'serious' weight loss path way, way back in 2007), I thought it was probably about time... so I'd like to introduce you to a couple of my travelling companions.

Actually that isn't strictly true, since I don't recall ever asking either of these guys to accompany me, and can't say that I really care for either of 'em. So 'I'd like to' isn't exactly what I mean...

However, despite trying to shake off these un-called for 'mates', I do rather appear to be stuck with the ungracious pair, who will suddenly decide to step up and join me for sections of my journey. Maybe that happens to everyone - I don't know.

They really can be quite persistent, these disagreeable beggars, but thankfully they don't follow along with me all of the time. They are more like those strange people you meet now and again on public transport, who home in to plonk themselves down in the seat right next to you and then proceed to bore you rigid with their life's woes and their bizarre but heartfelt beliefs on all sorts of odd and esoteric topics, without any apparent pauses to take a breath (or does this kind of thing just happen to me?). Anyhow, they make a journey much less pleasurable and are not what I'd describe as welcome company.

Each of them, even when they show up on their own, is quite a handful. Together, and one of them does seem to bring along the other all too often, they can be an absolute nightmare!

That darn Dog I've mentioned many times in the past. He's not a cute fluffy puppy by any means. More the slavering, hot-breathed, snarling sort of creature who slinks in the shadows and prowls around on the edges of consciousness to push and nurture the darker side of life. He's extremely difficult to shake off at times, and I never quite know when to expect him to show up (although sometimes the triggers are pretty clear). Still, recognising his influence is at play and then remembering to look out for and actually list my blessings (determinedly!) is usually enough to dissuade him from hanging around... eventually. Laina has a few great tips to share for dealing with this chap - all good stuff.

The Brat can be a challenge to deal with too, and she often rocks up for a little attention in the wake of the Dog. She's a particular problem to handle, most importantly because she's my own worst side. She throws temper tantrums to get her own way, and her mantra is 'I want, I want, I want'. She's demanding and selfish and lazy, and has her eye firmly on the pleasures of 'now' and to hell with the consequences. She's the persistent voice that whispers in my ear that 'just one' little lapse in my normal sensible diet is OK and won't harm me, or there's 'no need' to go out for a walk when the weather is bad, or get on the rower, or... She's generally vanquishable by a decent dose of willpower, but... I don't always have that to hand right away.

I guess what I'm leading up to here is that my weight loss journey (and maybe yours too) was, and still can be, hampered and stymied by unexpected and unwanted companions like these. Worse, they don't politely give up and push off when the weight loss part stops and maintenance takes over.

But, the good news is that we are not completely powerless in the face of the blighters, and we can defeat them - or at least give them a good bashing (even if complete victory isn't assured). OK, it might not be easy - but it is possible.

Even if (hmmm, make that 'when') we stumble and fall, with a bit, OK sometimes a lot, of effort, we can get up, dust ourselves down and get back on with our journey. Their arrival is not game over. The cartoonist Stephen McCranie captures this idea pretty well when he says:

“The master has failed more times than the beginner has even tried”

 

So, despite whatever or whoever shows up to obstruct us, let's plan to be masters, eh? Or, in other words, onwards, ever...

Contrasts

Worries and delights. It's sort of been a week or two of both, but I'm grateful that I can (for the most part) look at the 'blessings' aspects and say that the delights outweigh the worry bits.

So to start with the worries, why have I been fussing and fretting and getting myself all in a dither? Well I don't really know specifically - the black dog hasn't been very far away but it's all been pretty nebulous 'ifs & maybes' stuff, and I daresay most of it triggered by various bits of bad news we've had in the last few weeks.

I've recently lost one former work colleague too young, have another in a high depedency unit following a stroke (still only in their twenties!), various friends have developed all too many medical and other problems, and us...? Well, I guess we're pretty much OK - thank heavens, but it does kind of make one think.

When I ponder all this a bit more deeply, probably most of this worry is rooted in 'growing older' concerns. You know, those 2 a.m. thoughts about the inevitable (and detrimental) effects of the march of time. Cue quavering soundtrack of "Things Ain't What They Used to Be".

Yep, I've been worrying quite a lot about what will become of my lovely hubby and I as we get older and less able (it does, after all, come to us all). How will we cope if one of us gets ill? What happens if one of us have to give up work? Where will we live? Those sorts of things - I know it's silly as I have no idea what is likely to happen, let alone when, but it does sometimes get me down a little.

But those delights... ah, now they've been lovely. So just keep thinking about them, not the bad stuff, eh fat lass!

Shiny conkers and the bronzing of autumn leaves. The contrasting warmth of the afternoon sun and the chill of the morning - scarf and gloves weather on the way. The full(ish) moon in the clear night sky. All things to be thankful for.

Despite a change to the most appallingly soggy weather when I look out of the window right now, we were blessed by the most gorgeous sunrise this morning. Deep streaks of oranges and reds, shading to golds and pinks across bands of parallel clouds stretching to the horizon. Who cared that the 'red skies in the morning' portended rain - simply stunning!

Other pleasures too - like the first roast Brussels sprouts of the season, crispy brown, with bacon lardons and Stilton cheese. Fantastically satisfying dinner, to the eyes as well as the tastebuds. Snuggling up in our warm winter dressing gowns and sheepskin slippers at the weekend - it might not 'really' be cold enough to justify it yet, but a treat anyway.

And we've something very special to look forward to... a whole week in the wilds of nowhere (OK, deepest Shropshire) with my lovely hubby, to celebrate birthdays and our eleventh wedding anniversary. Gosh but waking to the early morning fog in NOLA seems a long time ago.

And the weight? Well, it's at the top end of my happy band, but I'm OK with that. It's stable and I know that if I can be bothered to put in the effort I can reduce it a few pounds to where I'm happiest. Right now I'll live with the 'what is' and worry about the 'what could be' later.

For Becky at Skinny Dreaming, for me, and for many others too.

Feeling girly...

Holy moly! At one time, I would not have said, or even thought to myself, that this fat lass was a particularly girly sort of critter. Instead I spent most of my formative years as one of those young 'ladies' who heartily eschewed all thoughts of make-up, 'fancy' clothing, high heels and hair-dos.

Indeed, I grew up as a classic tomboy, fighting my darling Mum every step of the way when she wanted her little girl in sweet little dresses, ribbons in her hair and lacy-topped short white socks. But in my world bruises, dirt, scabby knees and falling out of trees (I was great at climbing, rubbish at getting back down) were a more regular occurence... much to poor Mum's horror.

I dabbled briefly with a marginally more 'feminine' phase in my teens, but didn't really feel comfortable nor that it suited me and I certainly couldn't be fussed with all that hair-do messing about, nor make-up nonsense! So I firmly settled into being more of the rock-chick type, in hippyish bell-bottom jeans (that my darling despairing Dad used to say had been painted onto me!) and a ratty old tee-shirt... er, while I could still fit into such wondrous things, that is.

Then, as a fat lass adult (first fat, then growing steadily fatter), my main priority was to conceal my increasing bulk as far as was practical. I guess it was rather hard for me to begin to feel feminine when I thought that I closely resembled an object capable of sinking the Titanic.

So, sombre colours, shapeless tops and long skirts (well below those chubby knees please) were the norm for me back then. Disguise me please - so should I wear trousers? Nope - that was definitely a case of 'does my bum look big in this', so no fear! Then, let's slide around the perimeter of a room, speak and walk quietly, try to blend in to the wallpaper and don't attract anyone's gaze if you can avoid it. Bare skin? No way, Jose! Yes, 'draw no attention' became my motto and my mantra. And, as I didn't like 'me' and hid whenever possible it really didn't matter what my hair looked like, did it, so I left it long and straggly, and often chopped bits off it myself. You can imagine the result.

Roll forward to the present day, and there's been something of a revolution (and a fair degree of revelation, come to that). I sit here typing away in a flared, pale pinky-beige knee-length skirt, with a fitted short-sleeved tee-shirt (OK, I also have a little cardigan too as it's getting autumnal). My hair is neatly trimmed, and about to be even neater once I've seen my hairdresser. My shoes are neat - in fact, I now actually possess 'pretty' shoes with heels (although wearing them can kill my poor dodgy knee!). My toenails are nicely shaped, and often painted - most recently with a subtly pinky-lilac varnish. What's more, even though I still don't 'do' make-up, I had a manicure as a special treat a while ago... and liked it. Whatever is the world coming to, I ask myself.

So, here I am, not far short of 55 and, for the first time in my life, I find that I am capable of feeling girly and feminine. I'm comfortable enough in my skin that showing some of it (er, maybe not those very saggy bits if you please) doesn't really phase me.

This may sound odd, but the sheer sensory bliss of dabbing on a really nice perfume is something I now understand too - a bottle of scent isn't just something to grab and spray to mask any potential whiff of sweaty bodies. Ah yes, I was almost always, always, ALWAYS too darn hot when I was at my largest, and constantly terrified that I might sweat too badly and smell.

The other day, someone who's known me for ages, in both my larger and smaller days, asked me what I liked most about having shed a lot of weight, and my first reply (without a moment's thought) was the health improvements which it brought. Actually, I still stand by that and it is indeed THE most important thing.

But, d'you know, afterwards when she'd gone and I stopped and thought a bit more about it, I really quite like being able to walk out and about with my head held high as a girly sort of girl these days too.

The plan...

OK, 2014 is under way and this horse is ready to gallop!

Said I'd think about how best to combat those 'negatives' I have hanging around at the moment, so here's some first thoughts and the beginnings (at least) of the plan.

Black Dog (a.k.a. depression) defence tactics - remember each and EVERY day to remind myself about Mum's 'blessings'. Recognise, and count, at least one blessing - remember, they really do exist. Don't rush - take time to think carefully about it and appreciate it. Spend a moment or two being properly grateful for it. Rinse & repeat. It may help to actually write them down... we'll see.

Fitness - walk, walk, and walk some more as a first stage. Find (make!) time to get back to the abs work in the morning (at the moment, this may mean re-negotiating when lovely hubby's dressings are changed). Make a start, and gradually step things back up and do more. Add back in the upper arm weights (yep, actually use those odd shaped things covered in dust!). Longer term... get back to my love affair with Connie the Concept rower. She's been neglected and needs to feel loved again (oooh, I'm guessing this'll probably hurt, but what the heck!).

And what progress in identifying those positive motivational markers? Well, the jury is still out and considering their verdict at the moment, but I think Gwen has a point when she suggested that I might emulate her and cease wallowing in the loss of the old markers and allow myself to be passionate about the benefits this new low-carb (semi-Primal) way of life has to offer.

Here goes...

In denial?

I was talking to a colleague a day or so ago and she said something which, at the time, I disagreed with (although I kept quiet), but which I've since mulled over and decided she has a point.

This is a lady who, in the seven or so years I've known her, has always been beautifully slim, glamorous and very attractive. I actually used to envy her a little when I first knew her and thought I could never be like her... but that's another story.

Anyhow, she's had a fair few 'female' health problems in the last year, and told me she was unhappy that she'd gained around nine pounds (where she's put this weight I couldn't tell you - she still looks gorgeous to me). She went on to say that she knew she'd have to 'deny' herself in the New Year to lose this unwanted weight.

My first thought was that, woah!, this was a tad harsh. To me, it smacked of the exclusionary, prohibitive and restrictive 'dieting' mantra of you CAN'T eat X, Y or Z. In my mind, that path sets you up to lead to disaster. The word 'deny' has such negative connotations it couldn't be right, I thought. So in my head, I didn't agree... but later I pondered and now realise she was actually right.

We each of us have choices to make - all day, every day. Do I eat that biscuit? Do I head off for that walk, even in the rain? Do I pick low-carb foods? Do I hit the gym tonight? To some of these choices we'll answer 'yes', to others we'll say 'no'. When we pick what we feel is the 'healthy' choice, we also 'deny' the less than optimal option, and vice versa. It remains our choice, whichever way we play it.

So denial isn't a word to be scared of, necessarily. It's merely, for all it sounds quite strong and negative, a part of choice. So, when it comes to maintaining my health, and my weight, I'm quite happy to choose the positive options and  'deny' myself the things which would have a detrimental effect on me.

Hmmm, I guess you could then say I'm 'in denial'.

Still not out of the woods...

Or to put it another way, 'just when you think it's safe to...'

I have a plethora of extremely rude words in my head right now. I'd best make them stay there as I'd be banned from blogging if they overflowed and leaked out into print. This has come about because we seem to have developed a small cloud on the horizon and I'm frightened (OK, scared witless) that it presages a storm.

My poor darling lovely hubby, having made such good progress, now displays another little symptom or two (things like slightly elevated blood glucose readings, and other less pleasant manifestations) which I am guessing means he's developed an infection... er, in the region previously affected. To put it mildly, he isn't over the moon, and neither am I.

He can't get hold of the GP today so will try again tomorrow (hiss, spit, grrr - this is one source of my rude word thoughts!). Obviously, we'll keep an eye on things but I have to admit I'm quite worried as he'd only just started to pick up again from last week's fun and games. I know, I know, it'll probably just mean a round of antibiotics, but... (call me Mrs Clucky Mother Hen!)

Stress! Wow - what a powerful and immediate force it is. Having just spoken to him, the fledgling appetite which I thought was beginning to make a decent return has been kicked into touch, and my lunch (which I was looking forward to for the first time in days) now seems as appetising as a box of wood chippings. Worse, I'm back to feeling marginally queasy.

Odd as this sounds, coming from the fat lass, I really do not need to lose any further weight. I'm currently at the lowest on record (as an adult) and am not entirely comfortable with this. I'm frustrated because I CAN'T eat. Gee, what a turn up for the books this is.

Still, 'nil desperandum' and all that jazz. The trick is to keep positive. We'll get this sorted and then life can return to normal again. Onwards, to wherever it takes us...

Good times, bad times...

... you know I've had my share. To quote Led Zeppelin, that is.

Hmmm, there have indeed been both good and bad times recently and I guess all of us experience that from time to time. But, I think it's about time for me to focus on the former and review those things that are good, worthwhile and beautiful in my life. An appropriate time to give thanks.

And, funnily enough, no sooner had I thought about this, then got it written, than I came across Deedra's post doing the self-same thing a day or so ago. Small world, eh?

Anyhow, I've said it before, but as my much-missed darling Mum would have told me, I need to "count my blessings".

So, first and foremost, I know that I'm very lucky, as I have the most wonderful, supportive and loving husband a girl could ask for. He really is my rock, and my life just would not be as it is now were it not for him. Because of him it is as plain-sailing, straightforward and easy as it can be. He does so much more for me than anyone could ask, and does it without thinking - it just comes naturally to him. Slightly biased and peering through love's rose-tinted spectacles I may be. but that doesn't make him any less special. Whenever I'm tearful or down, I'll get wrapped up in his arms and feel safe - then even the worst problems become somewhat muted and more manageable. I'm blessed indeed.

I have a super sister too, and it's very nice to be able to say that her husband is also a lovely chap and a great support. It's good that we've grown closer over the years, especially over the last difficult months, and I know they'd be there for us whatever happened, as we would for them. My sister is my emotional depth gauge in so many ways. As another woman, with a host of shared experiences, I can talk through things with her that I find hard to express to anyone else - often because they'd probably seem 'silly' or trivial, or just plain incomprehensible.

I'm also absolutely delighted that I can say I have my health -  what a blessing that is! In the main I'm deliciously healthy, aside from the odd little niggles which show up somewhat unexpectedly when one finds oneself getting a tad longer in the tooth, like those minor aches and creaks, and yes, in part I mean you too Mrs Menopause! Whatever, I certainly have 'excellent' health these days in comparison to how unhealthy (and unhappy) I was when I carted around nearly an extra person with me every day, week in, week out.

I'm grateful (SO very grateful) that I'm able to move around freely and exercise my body. Walking every day keeps me sane (or at least fairly balanced) as well as keeping me active, and there's the other forms of exercise I do when my motivation is working properly. Related to that, I need to remember where I came from, and be grateful for the successful weight loss and the fact that it is (for the most part) staying off, unlike so many times in the past. One aspect of that is acknowledging how much better life is now, but I also want to remember the joy of hitting those little markers and milestones I experienced along my journey, and recognise the victories, however small.

Health is not just the physical side of things either, and while I'm aware that things are not on super tip-top form at the moment, I not sunk in the depths of black depression either. I am, in fact, 'hanging in there' pretty well. That is something I must keep in the forefront of my mind, and be grateful for.

I'm lucky to work where I do too, although I moan and gripe and grumble, in this rather quirky place but amongst some lovely people. OK, when I think about this, I'm also grateful that I have a job at all (even though I'd like to win the lottery - I'd quit to spend more time with lovely hubby). So many people I know have been made redundant, or are on fixed-term contracts without huge hope of getting a renewal, or are just plain out of work.

Another blessing is discovering that a low-carb lifestyle works well for me. It isn't always 'perfect', but there sure has been a lessening of cravings and comfort eating through the harder times. Backsliding may not be completely off the radar but it's a lot more manageable a challenge. What's more, we both enjoy eating the foods we choose and don't miss the sweet and starchy stuff much, if ever.

And lastly, I'm grateful for the little joys in life... the glorious autumn colours, the blue sky (today - hooray), the fact that although it's cold outside I have warm clothing to wrap up in and get out anyway. I'm grateful for the lovely flowers on my dining table (so beautiful), for the ripening avocados in the fruit bowl, for a glass of red wine now and again... as I say, life's little pleasures.

Life actually holds a lot to be grateful for and I am indeed blessed in so many ways. My lovely Mum was right - I just need to remind myself of this regularly.

Hang tough

This post started off in a completely different way, as I actually started it last Friday in a real temper. It was all about the fat lass 'Slip slidin', and began:

Right, this'll have to do in lieu of what I'd actually like to type, but that's way too rude and the censors would have a field day if I really let rip. So here goes - oh bottoms. Big, fat, wobbly, saddle-bag bottoms. And ageing, stretchy, gravity-dragged boobies. And pendulous, paunchy, poochy bellies to boot!

This isn't going to be a positive post. Heck, you could tell that, couldn't you.

I'm NOT a happy bunny at all, and the only person I have to blame for this is me. I don't quite think that the term 'struggle' encompasses what's been happening over the last couple of days - it's been more akin to 'galloping disaster zone' and I'm really peeved, angry and disgusted with myself.

Having made a little progress at the start of the week, and foolishly reported slight 'improvements', I proceeded to prove myself dead wrong. I chucked it all away and headed back to where I started (and wasn't happy about). I've had a few horrendous days and behaved like an utter brat.

So, taking a look at this whole sorry episode again, with the benefit of a good weekend and hindsight's.twenty-twenty vision...

In an attempt to keep my sorry ass out of trouble, I have started chanting a daily mantra to myself at the moment. I suppose it's a little bit like the Nike one... mine simply says 'you've just got to get on and do it'.

What I mean by this is that I am trying to persuade (OK, more like bully) my inner brat that I MUST stick to what I know works to keep my health and weight under good control... even when my mind is screaming 'c'mon, gimme a break, dammit!' and wants nothing more than to hibernate under the duvet or dive into a sea of carby 'treats' like a homemade fruit scone from the local tea shop.

I'll admit, this is easier to accomplish some days than others. I know that a lot of things seem hard for me at the moment and I'm aware it would be a simple out for me to 'take it easy' on myself. But I also know that this would be a mistake in the long run.

To that end, I did a session of my floor exercises this morning before I showered (not that I actually 'wanted' to at just after 5 a.m.). I packed up a sensible mid-morning snack of leftover cod loin (from last night's dinner), and a healthy, if pretty firey, lunch of red cabbage, celery and hard Turkish cheese salad, with a rather over-generous (and accidental!) dollop of pul biber. I'll walk at lunchtime and walk some more on my way home.

My darling lovely hubby doesn't know how much his love and support helped me at the tail-end of last week and the weekend. But it did and he's a shining example to me. I'm so lucky, and so grateful..

So this week will NOT mirror the last one. Even if I do end up slipping, or tripping or falling, I won't let it derail me or get me down. I will hang tough, and I will NOT let this lurking black dog get the better of me.

Onwards ever....

Improvements?

Yep, feels like there are some - hmmm, hope so, anyhow. After my recent salt debacle I think I now have my head back on straight again (oh OK then, it's a bit straighter, even if not completely straight).

It was indeed a fair old blip, but thankfully one that doesn't seem to have done me too much long-term damage... well, certainly nothing that can't be addressed if I take care of myself and my system rather more mindfully.

My weight is, as I had anticipated, up from where I had been happily sitting for weeks. The bad news is that I stood on the scales with the needle showing 55kg on Saturday's weigh-in and had almost certainly peaked higher than that earlier in the week, what with the (now obvious) water retention. Whilst I'm not too happy about that (as 55kg is my red line 'do something' weight) I know it could have been a whole lot worse had I not figured out what I was doing to myself and turned it around.

Let's view this positively - so far, so good, eh? This morning, after a careful weekend with plenty of water and some exercise, I feel less bloated and the needle looks to be sitting a shade lower. Great, so I am at least heading in the right direction. Having turned my sodium boo-boo around, I need to keep things going along the same lines.

Mindfulness - now there's an important word for the fat lass to ponder. Normally, when I think of it, I conjure neat little pictures of meals - taking my time, eating slowly and appreciating each and every forkful, but that's about it. However, I've just had a timely reminder that the word means so much more than this.

My mindfulness should encompass taking care and giving thought to choosing what to put on my fork in the first place. It should also include the thought, planning and determination required to get me off my backside and move. It covers emotional well-being too, not just matters physical. It is actually all about being 'considerate' of the whole of my life, not just the activity or dietary-related parts. It's about 'taking care' of myself.

OK, I understand now that I need to start looking hard at where I am at the moment and taking care of the 'me' inside once again. I'm aware that this has taken a back seat and slipped in recent months and that things in this respect are, pretty obviously, somewhat adrift. While I know there is that perfectly valid and understandable reason for this to have happened, continuing in this fashion isn't doing me any good at all.

As a start with this I'm going to do something I don't really want to do, and that is mention something personal which makes me uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. I'm going to admit that most of the common symptoms and signs are there to indicate that I'm probably depressed. Hell, but I hate the bloody 'D' word with a passion, along with all of it's very negative connotations. Got the tee-shirt from a long time back and don't really want to be wearing it again - still, sometimes we don't get the choice. This is where I seem to be.

And, although I know things are very much off-kilter, I do not feel I can go to see my GP. This is the very last thing I want noted on my medical and employment records. Sounds silly, I know, and I guess I might possibly benefit from it. But there is still SO much prejudice out there about any perceived 'failings' when it comes to a person's mental state - I don't feel I can take that chance.

What I'm going to do instead is take the D.I.Y. approach. I'll focus on this mindfulness and walk myself through the whys and wherefores of my present funk. Once I have a clear understanding of what I'm feeling (hmmm, not as simple as it may sound as there are so many feelings, some of them conflicting), and why this is so (again, pretty complex as there's all sorts of family history and baggage to contend with) then I'll look at what I need to do to retrain or reframe my thinking.

Self-counselling, I guess. In short, I'm going to find a way to sort myself out.

Never fear, I will get through this and the dreaded black dog will not defeat me. I know it's 'normal' despite being not a pleasant place to find myself, and I know that the passage of time will help me too. Odd as it sounds, that is one plus about having been through a previous period of depression (which happened when I lost my Dad and my first marriage blew apart). Even though it was a hellishly rough time, I know I came out of it a stronger person, and that means I can do it again.

This time, I'm lucky. Very lucky indeed. I have my darling lovely hubby to hold my hand, dry my tears and pick me up when I fall.

OK, onwards, very definitely upwards...

Let it be

A great mantra this, and one I'm leaning upon really heavily right at the moment.

Yep, when you find yourself in times of trouble... let it be! That is what I'm telling myself in the face of a variety of actual and potential disruptions to our holiday, having had a series of phone calls with various people last evening which may (or may not) cast a shadow on our break. I'm also telling myself not to be selfish, to go with the flow, to cut other people some slack, and employing various other clichés to stop my inner brat throwing her toys out of the pram!

The positive part of me is working overtime, and mostly succeeding, and I'm trying to smother the negative part of me, which is grumbling and muttering away under it's breath in the background about 'everything going pear-shaped', which really isn't true.

The main point here is, we ARE still going away, we MAY be joined by my sister and her hubby and we WILL have a good break. All the rest is just fluff and smoke.

Onwards ever...

Anticipation...

Despite a fantastically good day on Saturday, with a wonderful car picnic by a babbling brook as just one of the highlights, or perhaps as a backlash from it... I don't really know, I was really down and moody yesterday, and the black dog had taken a firm grip on me. I think this may, in part, have been because the autumnal weather seems to have set in with a vengeance (er, apparently overnight) so it was cold, windy and grey, grey, grey, all day long.

Rather out of the blue too, triggered by hearing a song I haven't played in an age, I also got particularly tearful about the lost opportunities of no longer having my lovely Mum to share the little things in life with. Ended up bawling my eyes out again. Oh boy, but I so miss being able to speak to her.

It really wasn't a great feeling, and I can't go on this way, so I'm making an effort today to pull myself together, to remember Mum's directive to count my blessings, and to stop being such a bloody misery. One of the things I'm telling myself is that the coming of winter (with those dark mornings and evenings, feeling shivery cold, missing sunshine, etc.) which seemed so dire yesterday, isn't actually all bad and that there are things to look forward to.

Hmmm, I'm not quite talking about Christmas - I think I may find that pretty hard this year. But I know we'll have days when it's crisp and clear and beautiful, and I'll see my exhaled breath, spreading and dissipating like a soft cloud, carrying good remembered thoughts of my lovely Mum out to share with the world.

I know we'll see cobwebs sparkling and rimed with the morning frost. I know it'll be a treat to get home of an evening, unwrap myself from the multitudinous layers of clothing and be enveloped in a toasty warm hug in my lovely hubby's arms. All of these are things to look forward to, and blessings to count.

One more nice thing occurred to me. We're nearly ready for Harvest Festival - this is the time to give thanks for summer's bounty and celebrate the abundance of the land. Now we're eating low-carb, so choosing even more fresh produce than ever before, this is a good thing to remember.

Soon it'll be that time of year when the autumn and winter produce comes into its own. It's getting close to the best season for fresh game - think of those warming and flavourful venison, bunny and pheasant stews and casseroles. And the fabulous veggies, including some of my dearly loved brassicas, come into season. We'll have leeks, marrows, the wide range of mushrooms to choose from. And kale, red and savoy cabbage and... wait for it... Brussels sprouts!

My goodness! I think I'm turning into Maria from the Sound of Music:
I simply remember my favourite things
And then I don't feel so bad.

Self-talk

After the recent weeks when we've travelled backwards and forwards cross-country to spend time with my poor darling Mum, and the last week since we lost her, which has brought a welter of decisions to take and preparations to make, I'm exhausted. We're away again this weekend to finalise some of the details to make Mum's funeral the very best we can achieve.

Last week's phone call (heck, can it really only be a week?) to let me know of the rather sudden decline in Mum's health came late on Wednesday afternoon - just as I was leaving work. We set straight off in the heat of a very sticky day after throwing a few random bits and bobs in the car, getting there in the early hours. All the next day was spent with her, holding her hand, stroking her hair and talking to her, even though she wasn't responding to voice or touch or anything - not even blinking. Still, I think she was somehow aware that we were with her and that we loved her very much. She finally slipped away from us late in the afternoon.

Understandably, I am (like all of the family) feeling like I'm missing an essential part of me. I'm tearful, sad, heartbroken, bereft - all the words you can think of really. Although I knew in my heart that we wouldn't have my darling Mum with us for much longer, and as much as I had tried to be prepared, this has all still come as a shock.

Last night I had a small melt-down when I was in the midst of creating an order of service sheet for Mum's funeral. Now, Powerpoint is something I've used lots in the past but, last night, my skills seemed to desert me and I kept making really silly mistakes. On came the waterworks and I cried and cried. Being the perfectionist I am, and wanting to make this last thing I can do for Mum absolutely perfect, I did the obvious thing. I started blaming myself and calling myself stupid. Dumb as a bag of spanners - that's definitely how I was feeling last night.

Oddly enough too, although the scales are vehemently denying this, as well as  understandably down I suddenly feel fat (hmmm, perhaps bloated is more accurate). Almost as though I've suddenly gained a stone or two - even though I haven't - and that I'm dragging this with me everywhere I go. I guess feeling 'weighed down' is sort of what I mean and that doesn't do much to make me feel better about myself, or the situation we are dealing with.

Sure, sure, the 'logical' bit of me can rationalise it as a response to bereavement, tiredness and stress, and knows that it is 'probably' only a fairly temporary feeling, but... my emotions do somewhat get the better of me at the moment. Is this part of grieving?

What's more I've found myself doing quite a bit of the 'hey, let's beat myself up' thing for some time as, with all the travelling we've been doing, my regular exercise habits have taken a bit of a battering too.

Some of the constant negativity and non-constructive self-talk is, I'm sure, all part of a generally emotionally 'low' period (fuelled by long standing worries and now losing my beloved Mum). This seems to be a time where I'm seeing all partially-filled glasses in my world as half-empty not half-full.

None of this bodes well. My nemesis, that old black dog, lurks right there in the wings just waiting for an opportunity to jump on me and give me a bit of a savaging. So, it's about time I took an honest look at what I have been doing and AM still doing and give myself a bit of credit.

So, to the confessional - the exercise part. OK, here goes - I am not getting on the rower each morning. You'll already have figured out that I really don't like this at all. I do want to get back to it, but I just can't do it right now. My almost constant dragging tiredness just cannot be totally ignored. Yep, the fat lass is knackered and yet a full-night's undisturbed sleep still eludes her! Typical, eh? Another aspect of the grieving process, maybe?

But... what I AM doing right is to:-

1)  take time to think about and follow my darling Mum's guidance and count my blessings. Even in the finality of her death, there are positive nuggets to be found, if I only search for them. Yes, I've lost her, but her spirit lives on and she will never, ever truly leave me.

2)  stick with low-carb and sensible portions 'most' of the time - with no spiralling descent into the perils of wall-to-wall comfort eating.

3)  stick with my daily walking, though it's hard at times. That's mornings and evenings with the walk to and from my bus journey, and lunchtimes to get out and about and moving for an hour whenever possible (even in this heat, 'cos sweaty I can deal with).

4)  stick to my morning abs exercises... in fact, I've increased them a bit and added a variation or two.

5)  incorporate some weights work for my arms to my morning routine. This is a relatively new venture which I've just started, but I aim to continue doing this about three days each week. Basically, this consists of sets of biceps curls (with a 4kg dumb-bell for now) and triceps overhead extensions and one-arm kickbacks (with just a 2kg weight... until I can track down a 3kg one).

So, fat lass... listen up and take this 'positive' stuff on board.

• You will ALWAYS have Mum with you.
• You are NOT the lazy mare you've been calling yourself.
• You are NOT 'stupid' nor that 'failure' your mind sees.
• You have NOT stuffed up completely like you've told yourself.

Yes, there's been a blip, but that's what it is... a short-term blip with some pretty deep roots in a lot of stress and worry. It will pass and, in the meantime, I must keep reminding myself that life can still be good.

So, stop trying to be 100% 'perfect' for 100% of the time, and stop hating yourself for anything less. Start loving yourself for the positive things you've achieved and are still achieving, and for the good in you that comes from the lovely lady your darling Mum was!

OK, self-talk over. Onwards, if slightly tearfully, ever...

Today's blessings

After another full-on weekend, and in no particular order...

• A nice 'thank you' card from a neighbour (that made me feel lovely)
• A cuddle with my lovely hubby before I left the house this morning
• Sunshine (I'm relishing this hot weather - think I must have some lizard blood)
• Pretty flowers in hanging baskets
• Crisp, crunchy white cabbage stalk for lunch, with a yoghurt & tahini dip
• Buying a little gift for a colleague with a new baby girl :-)
• Avoiding the chilli salted nuts on the stall at the market (they'd put tasters out!!!)
• A humorous and kindly meant (I hope) 'addition' to a notice left on a desk at work (er, not done by me, I might add) which made me grin
• Remembering better times with my Mum (and there have been LOTS)

Just keep on thinking of 'em fat lass... onwards ever.

Life may not be fair...

...but it's the only one we're going to live.

I particularly need to remember that and make the best of it... and be sure to count my blessings every day. Just at the moment, this is turning into a pretty constant mantra for me as I find myself struggling to deal with life's various worries and crises.

Heck, that sounds pretty 'down', doesn't it, but I'm not going to moan - I am doing my utmost to stay positive, look at things practically and not let those lurking blue meanies get a grip. But why is this necessary, you may ask.

My main worry is for my poor sweet Mum. We've just found out that, after the fall a couple of months ago and subsequent problems, she won't be able to return to her own home. Her physical condition has deteriorated to quite a degree, she's unlikely to improve hugely, and she now needs round-the-clock care. This physical set-back has also led to a slowing in mental acuity.

Getting old just isn't nice. She always did say that 'old age doesn't come alone' and often added the rider that she wasn't too keen on it's choice of friends! Perceptive, wasn't she, my Mum.

Whilst all of this isn't a particular surprise (in fact I was getting scared about the prospect of her going back home and being alone for most of the time) there's a lot for us kids to plan and organise for her... and at a distance! Then factor-in that our family's 'communication' record isn't the best... which makes it all so much more difficult.

Crucially though, this will be a massive change for poor Mum to adjust to. She's SO wanted to go home and it just can't happen now. She's going to need all of our support and help and this will require us to set aside our various baggage and differences and focus purely on her needs. Easily enough said... rather harder to get active co-operation from all concerned.

The real shame of it is that where she is right now is fantastic - she couldn't have better, more empathetic, personal and caring support, from all of the lovely staff there... but she can't stay there as it's only a short-term rehabilitation unit. We HAVE to move her and put her through the whole readjustment period once again and, to be honest, wherever she moves to will really have their work cut out to live up to current standards.

I've said it before and I'll say it again - I absolutely HATE living so far away from her. I desperately want to do more for her and have to fight the feeling of 'failing' her somehow on a pretty regular basis. Sure when I consider this logically, I know there are many, many people in similar situations, dealing with the self-same concerns but... this is happening to MY Mum, and to me she's the most special lady in the world.

Of similar concern is a new health issue for my darling lovely hubby - oooh, what great timing, huh? I won't go into the detail, but he had surgery for this very darned thing about four years ago and the problem has raised its ugly head again. It's returned with a vengeance and, this time, it hasn't progressed slowly but has accelerated quite rapidly from a minor niggle into a fairly major worry. He's been referred to a specialist and I'm sort of holding my breath at the moment. I'm on tenterhooks about the appointment, and living in hope for a good outcome.

All of this 'stuff' has an impact way beyond the obvious stresses. Sleep is not a given these days. Regular exercise has been hit quite hard as we're travelling across the country pretty regularly and this means we are both dog-tired. I have been trying to keep up with some of it, at least, but my best-made plans don't always come off! Meals have been a whole lot less 'sensible' than we'd like too, for all we try to eat well and healthily. To be quite frank, supermarket picnics eaten in the car during the long journeys are beginning to lose their appeal!

The good news is that having gone low-carb, and been eating this way for quite some time, helps a lot. Really, really, really helps! I truly thank heavens for a low-carb lifestyle as I'd be sunk without the help it gives me. You see, there are days when I feel quite overwhelmed and could easily dive into a comfort-food-fest and stuff my face until I burst.

But, even on particularly 'bad' days (like Wednesday, after we found out about Mum) when I find myself reacting to the latest stress point and standing in front of a vending machine with a coin in my hand... everything inside, however prettily packaged in shiny wrappers, looks like inedible sugary crap. I honestly don't want any of it - even though I'm desperately craving 'something'. Strange eh?

What I have had to do though, is strictly limit the snacks I keep available to me at work - even the 'good' snacks like nuts, for example. Eating too much, or rather mindless emotional eating which leads to eating too much and which I obviously have not managed to conquer, is a potential problem. Low-carb or no, I could still find it all too easy to munch my way to oblivion.

So far, my weight remains around 55kg - a wee bit higher than my 54kg 'happy' number, but not too bad... considering. It's still very much a learning process, this maintenance business, and the review, adjust, adapt cycle is on-going. But I'm happy to keep at it as it keeps me from throwing away the years of hard work to get where I am with my weight and health. Er, stating the obvious I may be, but gaining weight right now would NOT help this fat lass.

So, a few of my blessings for today:

• The sun is shining and the sky is blue.
• The river looked lovely on my way to work.
• I'm still strong, healthy and (mostly) happy.
• I have a wonderful lovely hubby, a fabulous sister and brother-in-law and the best Mum in the world.