Let's think about progress

Today brought yet more fun - another of the wonderful job application 'thanks, but no thanks' email rejections. I have to admit that it performed the usual trick of making me feel completely inadequate, ancient, worthless, a failure... [actually, you can choose your own words here]

So I really wasn't in the best frame of mind as we headed to the gym, first thing this morning, in the cold and snowy wind. Things didn't improve when we got there and lovely hubby slipped going down the metal stairs as the soles of his shoes were wet. Thankfully, though he cut his hand a bit (and doubtless dented his pride), he didn't really hurt himself too badly - but it shook us both.

This meant that as we started doing our usual set the fat lass was cold (for some reason they hadn't put the heaters on), definitely grumpy, a bit tearful and decidedly unmotivated. Even a stint on the rower (usually my favourite) didn't do the customary magic of making me feel better.

But, after a little while, in fact when I got on the machine crunch thingy (you know, that one designed by Torquemada), I realised something. When I first used it, back in mid-November, I did so with no added weights and found it quite a challenge (understatement!) as abdominal strength has never been my forte. Well, I've gradually added some weight over the last couple of months, and while I don't know what the weight equates to I'm now using it on weight No.5 in the stack. And it's a similar picture with everything we use. The weights have increased as I've got stronger and gradually, as they become manageable, increased again - progress!

Great, eh?  But what I wasn't really aware of is what has been happening to my body. Trouble is I don't 'see' any change and so tend to focus on the number I see on the scale to decide whether I'm on track or off the rails. In fact I've been feeling pretty bad again as my celebrated 54kg seems to have been quite a short-lived phenomenon. When I weighed at the weekend I was horrified to see that I was back to just under 55kg.

But there's been progress here too.

What informed me was getting dressed in my smartest clobber for an interview on Wednesday (this time for a job I'd really like - one for which I have the chance of a second interview). I pulled out my trusty grey trousers and popped them on. Now last time I wore them they fitted me perfectly. This time I had an 'ooooh' moment. They are now too big in the waist! No problem though - even if there was an initial panic - a long sweater covered the waistband up nicely.

Another marker of progress comes from my volunteering, this time not on the physical front. Though I haven't been there all that long I'm being trained to become a shift supervisor. Given that it includes the responsibility of cashing up and closing the place at the end of the day that's really quite a compliment.

So, you horrible Black Dog - take that! Try as you will, you are not having it all your own way after all.

Right, onwards....

Blessings

Blessings indeed!

Jay heaven. Not only did we have not one, but two, of these beautiful birds outside our window this morning but there have been dramatic developments with lovely hubby's head overnight. 

He got up in the middle of the night to find that some of the hard, scaly crust on his forehead had begun to come away, leaving behind what looks like nice healthy (albeit rather pink) skin.

We're seeing the GP tomorrow for a check and I hope she'll be as pleased as we are.

Progress - and its price!

Well, I suppose the good news is that the downward trend is happening again and the scales registered just under 57kg (a shade less than 9 stone) today. I'd dearly love to take credit for this wondrous progress, but...

...well, I'd just be lying if I did.

OK maybe, just maybe, a little of the loss could be down to me (the fat lass hopes, crossing fingers that she hasn't completely lost the plot), but the vast majority surely comes courtesy of the nasty bug which we both picked up a few days ago.

This comes along with a sore throat and other, less mentionable, unpleasantries where the digestive system is concerned. Guess what - it has rather stomped on our appetites. Neither of us is hungry and nothing tastes good right now anyhow - not even tea.

Added to this is a distinctly unseasonal heatwave, making the nights, if not the days, pretty darned uncomfortable. Getting out and about and enjoying the late summer sunshine is not on the agenda at all at the moment.

I really, really feel for my poor lovely hubby. He really does not need this bloody bug because he was already dealing with a range of less than fun occurrences from this soi-disant 'chemo' treatment. He's suffering considerably more now, with sorness, itching, and not sleeping well being daily problems. His poor, crusty skin is a mess. Oh yeah, and even more of these tricky little keratoses seem to pop up every day - what fun! While we know things are 'supposed to' happen this way it doesn't make it any easier for him.

Looking on the bright side from my own perspective though, counting my blessings and doing my best to think positively, I guess it is at least helping me get from 'here' to 'there' where the scales are concerned. Not the way I'd choose, perhaps, but I guess it's still progress.

Another ray of light on the horizon is that I have an interview coming up in a couple of weeks. Not counting my bantams just yet, but I'll keep you posted.

Ho hum - onwards, ever...

Slow progress is still progress

Well, it appears that the scant couple of pounds water weight seems to be the extent of my losing at the moment as I'm still sitting at 58kg. Insert suitable rude words here. I have kept a close eye on what I'm eating and cut back on the unnecessary stuff, but...

The stroppy kid part of me kicks and screams and throws a tantrum. The grown-up bit reassures the brat that it's early days and things will happen and my weight will come off as long as I keep to the script. Rinse and repeat.

Lovely hubby's treatment is still going well (although he is a bit less comfortable as the days go by) and the GP is happy, so it's 'keep taking the tablets', as it were, for the foreseeable future.

I have bitten the bullet on the job front and put in an application for a part-time job (crossing fingers but not all that confident), and I'm looking around to see what else is out there. Still have no concrete idea what I'd like to do but there has to be something.

That damnable Black Dog is slinking around in the background, not threatening yet, just making his presence apparent, so I've put a link to Bobby McFerrin's 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' video on my desktop to help circumvent the beggar. If Robin Williams doesn't lift the mood I don't know what will.

Just a little reminder to the fat lass to make haste slowly. You may feel like the tortoise rather than the hare, but that is not a problem. What matters is that you keep on making sensible decisions and don't let worries and life's hitches derail you.

Onwards, ever...

Baby steps

So, how are things on the worry front? Well, they've not gone away but they're somewhat improved.

Having made a plan and started to put it into practice I'm pleased to report that there's already been small amount of progress on the podge dispersal. Those formerly scary scales tell me I'm down a little bit from the new heights I'd reached, to 9 stone 2 lbs (or 58kg in new money). OK, so some of that may be water weight but I'll still take it.

Slightly disturbing was to look back through my old weight loss records to find that the last time I'd been at the weight I mentioned in my last post was August 2011 - well before the LCHF way of life. Oops! However, keep at it fat lass and you'll get to where you'd like to be - sitting cheerily at 8 stone 6lbs or maybe 8 stone 7lbs (54kg ish) once again. It may not happen fast, but you will get there. You've made it to where you feel happy before so you know it's do-able. See, there's life in this old dog yet!

Oh, and another thing - this might be TMI but we've checked our wee for the first time in ages this evening and by some miracle we still appear to be in ketosis. Amazing, eh?

Another big positive to keep in mind is today's good news from my sister, and phew! doesn't come close to how I feel about this. She's back home after a super time spent together and her CT scan results have come back clear - no sign of any cancerous lesions causing her problem. Added to the x-ray and camera down the throat showing nothing untoward my DEFCON worry status has officially dropped a level, from 3 to 4. They still have no idea why the bleeding happened but she's on watch and wait for a while now. Phew! blessings indeed.

Things for lovely hubby seem to be progressing pretty well too and we see the GP for a check up later this week. It's not exactly a walk in the park for him, but he is coping with the spreading redness (inflammation) and discomfort (more itching than soreness) from the treatment better than we'd expected. Hats 'r still us. We haven't resorted to the brown paper bag over his head as he threatened before we started!

The only real fly in my ointment right now is the job side of things. Today's officially the last day of my contract, so as of tomorrow I'm back to the ranks of the unemployed. Problem number one is that I really don't know what I'd actually like to do anymore (did I ever though?) although I'm pretty clear on what I don't want. Number two is that I'm doing my usual trick of looking at job specs, having a little panic to myself, and focusing on what I lack, rather than what I can offer.

The knock-on is a significant hesitation (er, fear, to be honest) to actually put applications in for consideration. Obviously that's not helpful - until I do so I won't be offered zip, not even an interview! I really have to find a way to get around this - perhaps volunteering for a charity may be a way forward here. It would get me 'doing' something, hopefully raise my self esteem, and might even highlight other avenues to consider.

Right, I'll finish for now with some of the lyrics from Fleetwood Mac's 'Don't Stop':

If you wake up and don't want to smile
If it takes just a little while
Open your eyes and look at the day
You'll see things in a different way

Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Don't stop, it'll soon be here
It'll be here, better than before,
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone

So here's to tomorrow. Onwards, my friends.

A long road travelled...

...and boy, does it ever feel like it!

Hello world. Not sure if anyone will be left to read this as it has been such a long time since I last wrote anything but... if anyone is interested, I'm still around. Settle down with a cuppa kids, this is shaping up to be a looong read!

A whole helluva lot has happened since the last time anything got posted here, and if I can stand aside from the chaos for a moment to report back, the vast majority of that journey has been positive. Some stuff not so, and some pretty rotten (as life tends to be), but I'll get to that. Let's start off with the good stuff.

The move from our former flat and an end to living in the 'not very exciting' flatlands of Cambridgeshire territory went ahead just as May came to an end. Janey Mac, but that was a hard slog! However, my darling lovely hubby and I now benefit from land which has height as well as breadth. I always knew I'd missed hills, but didn't realise quite how much until we came to Nottinghamshire.

This is definitely a big plus. I really love seeing the play of light and shadow across distant hillsides on the walk downhill into town. I love the feeling of 'making an effort' walking uphill back from a shopping trip - especially carrying bags of heavy shopping. I love the fact too that I can do this relatively easily, and that probably tells you something as well.

Despite the multiple (and seemingly never ending) stresses of:
- downsizing (a LOT!)
- shedding much-loved possessions (aaargh - books!)
- making the move to a very much smaller flat in a completely unknown area
- knowing no-one at all
- quitting my job (hmmm, some definite pluses and minuses here)
- getting accustomed to being at home all day (for now, anyway)
- my lovely hubby's retirement and a lack of 'routine'
- finding 'trustworthy' contractors to rip out/replace a very tired and crappy bathroom and kitchen (all within our rather restricted budget)
- the dust, disruption, and glitches & hold-ups of the work taking place
- the joys of searching (unsuccessfully as yet, dammit!) for a new job
and SO much more, I'm still here.

Better yet (and I'm actually quite surprised to be able to say this), there hasn't been any significant change to my weight. Blimey! My clothes still fit me (now they've been unearthed from somewhere within the depths of a gazillion boxes!). I'm still fairly fit for an ageing former-fat lass too, as shifting furniture, those jolly old boxes, and so much more hasn't killed me off yet. Yes, I know I 'could do better' and could do with a bit of (er, lot of) toning but I promise that will come as life settles more.

I can happily report that, having moved to a new area, our health has been thoroughly checked out by a new GP practice. Hey, both of us are doing pretty darned well, even with our kooky way of eating which completely flies in the face of all NHS advice. Yep, we're still low carb, high fat and adequate protein munchers, and loving it.

We're well, that is... with one small proviso. We're waiting for an MRI scan for lovely hubby as there's a niggling concern about the underlying causes for his increasing hearing loss - the upshot is they are hoping to rule out something sinister behind it. This is a regular source of worry to me in the dead of night at the moment, but my tame angel assures me it'll all be fine... honest guv'nor.

But back to the positive stuff - counting those blessings that remain as a daily memorial to and reminder of my darling Mum. Oh yes, I did get that tattooed on my back by the way. I'll see if I can be brave and put a photo up at some stage.

After a bit of a shaky start I'm beginning to love our new home. Although compact and bijou the flat is fine - secure and warm, and a permanent place to settle for the future. Although we are not 100% done yet and still have the bedroom to de-box and organise, somehow, we have carpet on the floor at last (I could not have begun to understand the joy of this statement until we'd lived in a bare and echoey box for months!) and fresh clean paint on the walls. We now have hot water, a shower, a fully workable (and whizzy) kitchen, our beloved pictures on the walls and our remaining books beautifully arranged on the shelves (now this has made a real difference for the better).

We are a little way off a main road into the city so everything we could wish for is pretty close by, and the transport links are really good too. Great now and a definite bonus for the future as we get older. We look more or less southwards out onto an old brick-built mill building (converted to flats) across a grassy slope with trees gently beginning to shed their goldening leaves (in the sunshine at the moment and it is beautiful). We even have bats performing a synchronised fly-past each evening - now there's a joy to watch indeed. We have a colony of argumentative magpies visiting every morning to scavenge and squabble, and even the occasional visit from a jay and a couple of squirrels.

As life always goes though, not everything is entirely rosy. My dear friend is having a pretty bad time after her surgery (which thankfully went well) ever since the path lab reported back with less than positive news from the biopsies. She's now subsumed within a welter of ongoing and traumatic treatment, with none too jolly prospects and a lot of pain, and trying hard to stay positive. It's hard as there's nothing we can do to help in any way.

We also just lost a friend from our old neighbourhood, a little over a week ago. A lovely, smart, sophisticated, funny, incisive, gentle gentleman who was a real high-flyer back in the day. He'll be sadly missed, by us (lovely hubby was especially close to him) but especially by his wife. Again, it's hard knowing there's nothing one can do to be of any real help. Life really does suck sometimes.

I've been finding I miss friends and colleagues from my former life more than I thought would happen, so feel/have felt slightly isolated at times. Logically speaking, I know this will doubtless change when I do find work and develop some sort of social life (and by that I mean regular interaction with a range of people, rather than going out and about on the town) in this new area. Until then though it sometimes feels just a tad lonely - that means the dreaded black dog sniffs around whenever he gets a chance. At times he gets the upper hand, but thankfully not for too long.

Until I'm working again finances are a bit of a concern too, but these negatives notwithstanding I think we made the right decision to move. It's been a long journey, and one which isn't over yet, but on balance life is pretty good. I think we can settle down and feel at home here and one of our big worries about growing older (the old insecurity) has been lifted from us.

A very nice thing on the horizon is a visit from my sister later this week. She hasn't been able to come until we were a bit more organised and I'm really looking forward to a few days catching up, sharing time together and relaxing. Glad we always have the phone to keep in touch but a big sis hug is always best.

Right, enough of me blithering. As I usually say... onwards, ever upwards.

Yesterday

That much-needed mental kick in the pants helped.

Ticked off 1), 2), 3) and 4), and planning on more of the same today.

Hmmm, how interesting...

Well there, it seems that plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose, as Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr would say, is pretty much spot on.

In an idle moment (a deliberately 'stolen' one) I had a wander through some old posts to look back at what happened to this fat lass in March of previous years. Some years were a bit stressful, it seems, but then I came across a post from 2010 - goodness, that's five whole years ago! Take a look here.

Do you know, I am mildly amazed to think that what I said about there being two of me back then is just as true today. Yep, it's still a case of the logical, in control, adult 'me' occasionally having to go into battle to combat the odd resurgence of the childish fat lass. Maybe, though, the habit has become just a little more ingrained and easier to accomplish?

Yesterday was a case in point, and when I consider how the day went I think that quite a lot of that uncertainty was fat lass (can I have a treat now) type behaviour. I'm pretty pleased to realise that 'me' seems to have kept the upper hand and been able to shrug her off with 'whatever', even without really knowing it.

Progress?

Letting go

This week has seen me doing something that's quite a challenge. No, I haven't taken up kickboxing (now there's a thought), bungee jumping, marathon training or anything like that. No, what I did was to 'let go' of a piece of 'baggage' that I'd (quite literally) been carrying around with me for years.

This may not sound momentous to anyone else out there, but it's quite a big deal for me. Another small measure of progress perhaps?

Now as my darling lovely hubby could tell you, chapter and verse, letting go of stuff, even sometimes 'useless' old stuff, is not always an easy thing for this fat lass. Sometimes it's fine. But sometimes I can have a decidedly unreasonable (yep, even I can see that) emotional attachment to the oddest of things, not necessarily because of 'what' they are, but because they are so steeped in memories and connections.

Actually, what I did was donate it to a local hospice charity. They can now sell it to someone who will (hopefully) love it and raise themselves some ever-needed ££s in the process.

In this case 'it' was a heavyweight, black, fringed leather biker jacket. A gorgeous thing indeed, but it's... well, think Phil Lynott from Thin Lizzie. I'd had this jacket ever since I was in my early twenties (and it was a serious luxury when I bought it!). However, I have only ever worn it a handful of times, first because it was such a precious (and costly) thing and then not least because for too many years I couldn't even get it on... let alone done up!

Even so, it was a part of my history somehow, and I loved it... so I carried it around with me, all carefully packed up, through a multitude of moves... to take up wardrobe space wherever I went. I 'could not' bring myself to part with it. In fact, it's been so hard to contemplate getting rid of it that I brought this jacket into work months ago with the aim of taking it to the hospice shop... since when it has languished under my desk making me feel guilty every time I kicked the bag.

It's been slightly worse because it fits me easily these days (yes, I tried it on once or twice) and I 'could' have worn it pretty comfortably I guess but... hey. C'mon, realistically, where's a middle-aged, grey-haired old bat going to go wearing such a funky 1980s thing. So, armed with Gift Aid number and a couple of bagsfull of other bits and bobs, off I marched to the charity shop, where I very nearly baulked at the final hurdle and kept it.

But... I didn't, this time, and it has now gone from my life - no more to be an item of my 'baggage'. This all seems a bit oddball, I know, but I do have a point to make here. That is to say that I've realised something about myself. Yep, another lesson in life.

That is that, however huge and hard a task it seemed beforehand, now I've actually 'done' the letting go, there's a sense of accomplishment and maybe even a slight feeling of relief in a way. I'm not, as I expected to, mourning the jacket's absence.

Actually, it's been quite a letting go sort of a week.

Thirty three years ago last weekend, on Valentine's Day, I lost my darling Dad in extremely harrowing and difficult circumstances. Eighteen months ago, almost to the day, I lost my beloved Mum. Again, what happened around that time was extremely difficult to deal with, albeit in a very different way. From both of these (and other) events I carry 'baggage' still, and I guess I always will.

But I've realised that I have been able to let go just a little bit here too. It's been about allowing myself to 'let go' of some of the pain I feel about both events, and set aside just a smidgen of the anger and recriminations which usually spring to mind. Looking back'll never be pain free. I'll always miss them both and feel their loss, and I can't turn back the clock nor change the circumstances that occurred at those times.

But I can accept that I have a choice, in this and in many other things. I can decide whether to allow my thoughts (and objects connected to them) to be 'baggage', to drag along with me ever more, or I can decide that it's time to 'let go' a bit.

It'll take practice, but I'm going to persevere and try to improve my letting go muscles. Onwards, ever...

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...

A little victory dance...?

Something occurred to me over the weekend and, now that it's struck home, I'm going to mark it up as a positive, and as progress, and as something to be very pleased (proud?) about indeed.

In fact, I'd say it's one of my lovely Mum's blessings, right here in front of me to be counted... and, do you know, although I've 'sort of' seen it before (and even mentioned it) I just hadn't really remembered it and recognised it, nor taken notice of it for the good thing it is.

With one thing and another (you know, the usual e.g. health, family, work, you name it...), there has been a fair amount of stress, angst and worry in life again of late. Yeah, yeah, I know - so what's new, huh? That means I have, inevitably, had my fair share of rough moments, where I've felt like I'm really struggling.

At those darker points, although I've 'mostly' avoided it, the bad old behaviours try to surface and, like diving face-first into a plateful of comfort food, quite often sounded like a darned fine idea. Indeed, I have strayed off the straight and narrow low-carb ketogenic path a couple of times, but somehow (thank heavens) managed to haul my silly self back on track pretty sharpish... although I've also seen the scales needle twitch upwards now and again as a result.

But to get back to the blessing?  When I think about it, it's quite simple, but the consequences are significant. It's that I HAVE seen the danger, and that I HAVE taken notice of it, and I HAVE actually done something to avert the looming crisis. Hey, is this maintenance?

Well I guess so, and the proof? Even though I've seen the odd brief rise (and whined about it accordingly), my weight when I look back over the last couple of years (which was for soooo long a 'big' problem, in every sense of the word) has pretty much remained inside a perfectly 'acceptable' band. Acceptable, eh? So what does that mean, exactly?

Well, to me these days my 'happy' place is somewhere around the 53 to 54 kg mark. OK, I've fluctuated at times, maybe a kilo, a kilo and a half, very occasionally two kilos, above/below my 'that's fine' zone, but that's all - even throughout all of life's traumas (large and little). My dress size has remained constant too, which seems a bit of a miracle, even if I've sometimes noticed slightly tighter or looser waistbands.

Wow! How about that. For a formerly obese (Class 2, to boot!) fat lass, having no major gains or losses in the last couple of years(!) but something approaching stability, is fantastic. Actually, in my world, that's something really pretty amazing. Hence the teensy little jig of victory.

Now I know that perfection ain't me, and I don't want to count too many chickens, but I really do think this successful pattern in 'maintenance' marks a change for the better for this fat lass.

This feels significant to me because the whole concept of 'maintaining' still worries me (a.k.a. scares me witless!). Being so long obese, I still fear that I'll wake up one morning and it'll all have been a lovely dream and now I'm awake find myself still trapped in my layer of blubber. And, believe me, that's somewhere I REALLY don't want to go back to.

I'm still on my journey, and still learning to take care of 'me'. I hope I'll always be able to learn, and always recognise the lessons... eventually. It takes effort, sure, but I also know I'd have struggled a whole lot more with sustaining the weight loss if it wasn't for a low-carb lifestyle.

Long may it continue... onwards, ever.

Back in touch at last

I've been woefully behind with getting anything up on the More Love page for quite a few weeks. Thankfully, this doesn't signify my gracefully falling off my wagon, but just that I've been really, really busy and life got in the way. I've tried to keep up with what's going on in your worlds but do forgive me if I haven't commented much.

Well, as you'd probably guess there's good news, and some less so.

The good news is that I finally have my darling Mum's wedding ring which she left to me in her will (er, a long story but I'm not going there as it was pretty stressful). It is now safely with the jeweller who is busily incorporating her simple gold band into a beautiful new diamond-set 'eternity-style' band which I can and will always wear. When it's finished I'll always have a little bit of my beloved Mum and Dad, and a symbol of their love, with me, close against my skin. This means SO much to me I can't express myself properly, and I well up when I even think about it.

Weight is sort of neutral news, neither particularly bad, nor good. It's not awful (although it has crept up) but not fantabulous as where it's gone up to is 54kg (growl, hiss, spit, much stamping of trotters!). Oh stop your wibbling fat lass - it's still in your 'sort of OK' range... just! You can (and will) address this.

Mostly, this gain has probably been down to a rotten bout of being poorly (sore/tight throat, cold-ish symptoms and dragging fatigue) for a few days, which put all exercise plans on hold for a while. Funny how that seems to happen and, if you're going to get sick, it's as soon as the stress slackens off, eh?

The other BIG obstacle, which took a lot of time and effort was applying for, then preparation for interview for, a new job. So now to the bad news... after all that, I interviewed well, but came second. Ho hum. Still, it wasn't completely wasted - a good learning experience, particularly since I've asked for detailed feedback, and it has made me think about what I want to do and where I want to go in life.

The other good news is that I'm back to the gym again. We went last night (gold stars for the fat lass and lovely hubby), it's planned for Thursday and then again on Sunday. See, I haven't lost that spark. I'm also back to the walking. Yes, much as I hate to admit to it, even that took a bit of a back seat for a while.

Worries? Yep, still got em. More of that once I have tomorrow under my belt. But the springlike weather, singing birds and sunshine are all things to be thankful for. So, I'm going to count my blessings and wish you all a happy, healthy bye bye for now. Onwards ever...

Plodding quietly along

Well, after the last few 'OMG it's awful' posts I can honestly  say that there's precious little of any note to report at the moment, which could be viewed as a good thing - indeed, that's how I'm choosing to see it. Things have settled back to OK, just sort of middle-of-the-road ordinary, which is to say not great, but not dreadful either.

My surly black dog is being held at bay (er, for the most part) although the blighter does still seem to be prowling around on the periphery, looking for a way back in. I am still finding that the strangest little things trip me up and make me realise how much I miss my lovely Mum, whereas the more obvious, expected triggers I can, apparently, cope with. I'll talk to my sister at the weekend as I know she's been finding things quite tough too - it may help give both of us a better insight.

But, things are definitely less gloomy. Having been quite upset by this turn of events recently, I have (I think) managed to reconcile myself to accepting that I simply 'will' go into sharp grief and meltdown periodically and that isn't a problem. I've been repeating to myself that it's not actually anything unusual, in the circumstances, or anything to do with me being overly sensitive or silly. I've talked at length to lovely hubby (OK, cried with/all over him mostly!), who assures me that it actually indicates what a very special person Mum was, and how precious she was to me, that I continue to feel her loss so badly. She was precious to us both - he really misses her too. He also feels that these sorts of things will inevitably continue to happen every now and again for a while to come yet - a new 'normal' for us to get used to, I suppose.

On another positive note, my weight is staying at a reasonably happy place, at the lower extremity of my happy band, and I'm still in the glorious 'purple' of ketosis (although the lure of too many spoons of nut butter has challenged me a few times). I do have to confess that the exercise is still not back to anywhere near my desired levels and I'm struggling to figure out how I can change this right now as the daily commute mess is still taking a hefty toll on my time and energy. I'll find a way, but first need to come up with a workable plan. In fact, I'm off to check out a (new and expensive!) gym this evening - sadly, they've shut down my old one, dammit.

It's a bit odd, you know, but although I'm hanging in there at the lowest weight I've maintained for donkey's years I don't really feel that I'm looking 'good' and I'm not truly comfortable with 'me' at the moment. Hmm, does that make any kind of sense? I feel old, tired and worn down, unfit and, some days, positively fat again. Not good, but I guess it's that old skewed self-image conundrum again - not seeing oneself as one actually is. I know some of this will be coloured my black dog's view, not really through 'my' eyes, and I'm actively looking for ways to challenge it (like jotting things in the 'blessings' note book and investigating the gym). Unfortunately I am finding it a rather difficult process.

On the subject of 'challenges' to come, I'm also aware that I need to start to work through some of my deliberately deeply-buried angst about disposing of Mum's house and posessions (in what seemed such a goldarned hurry), about my current and future relationship,or rather non-relationship, with my brother and his wife, and a few other knotty issues... such as why do I have a continuing propensity to want to comfort myself with food when I get badly stressed, even if it's now with the slightly 'better' low-carb foods, not sugary crap. Wish me luck!

Hmmm, reading back through this post, it all sounds sort of negative too [way too 'oooh, poor me', if I'm honest]. But it wasn't/isn't intended to be.

What I'm actually trying to say is quite simple - that is I'm still here, still fighting and I haven't and will not cave in to life's obstacles - whatever form they may take. Nil illegitimi carborundum! Onwards, ever...

Why, oh why, oh why do I still fall into this trap?

Yesterday, the bad news...fat lass loaded her own bullets, then promptly shot herself in the foot. [Insert rude words here]

OK, what actually happened was that I had a re-run of last week's stress and depression about losing my lovely Mum, and meltdown ensued. Hey, I have the 'poor excuse' card in my hand - see. It was kicked off by having to pay in the cheque for 'my share' from the sale of her house (my childhood home) to the bank, having carried it around with me since last week. Not a nice feeling at all, considering (however foolishly) that I still wish we hadn't really had to sell it at all. To be honest, this whole 'settling Mum's estate' business dredges up all sorts of emotional crap that I really haven't dealt with properly yet - including brother related stuff. I'm even getting all knotty-stomached again typing this.

So just as I thought I was handling things rather better after the weekend (and some lovely supportive comments - thanks chaps), it tripped me up again good 'n proper. I had one of those 'want to eat... anything... right now!' feelings that, unfortunately, lasted for most of the day. The morning wasn't too bad as it was a busy period but, by the time work had added it's own brand of stress to the fun and games, the afternoon defeated my resolve and I nose-dived into a (thankfully nowhere near full) jar of almond butter that's sat happily un-munched above my desk for ages. Sound a familiar tale? Yep. Does to me too!

The good news... and, boy, I'm so thankful there is some.

Yes, I tripped up and did something stoopid, but it could have been (and would have been, at one point) a LOT worse. Yes, I ate probably a couple of generous tablespoons of almond butter which weren't exactly part of my day's plan. But, in the bad old pre-low-carb days I'd almost certainly have pigged out on, or emotionally/comfort eaten, a whole lot more, and worse. Looking at the almond butter nutritional blurb, no it wasn't great, but it wasn't an out and out disaster either.

In my favour is that it would have been awfully easy to hit the sugary carb-laden crud too - yesterday we had a pile of, er, 'goodies' (I won't call them what I really think) left over from a morning meeting in our work kitchen area - stuff like flapjack bites, croissants, biscuits and muffins. I just can't express how SO glad I am that this stuff holds no appeal for me whatsoever these days. Although I looked at it, nothing made me want to eat it.

But back to the big question. Why do I still get the urge to stuff myself when seriously stressed. It's old, bad behaviour and I keep thinking I've defeated it. Patently that isn't correct though! Going to have to put some thought and work into this... again!

Random thoughts and minor miracles

Do please excuse me if I'm beginning to sound a shade fanatical here, but just a short week ago we lost a friend, and that has set me to me pondering the fragility of life and health and why it is so damned important to look after ourselves as best we can. Pretty deep for a Tuesday, huh?

Oooh, how easy it can be to let our guard down and slip into old (and usually bad) habits which do little to promote or support our health. Boy, we really do need to be vigilant... don't we fat lass. However, in thinking about vigilance, a concept that I'd never actually considered, but one that I can only describe as an unexpected bonus - a little miracle if you like - has become evident to me.

Now I know I've mentioned before the 'relative' ease with which my weight remains under 'reasonable' control with the low-carb lifestyle, but I didn't really think too much more about it (or particularly deep and hard) until I met someone I haven't seen for a while.

This is a lady who knew me when I was obese, through the years of my calorie-restricted weight-loss (which I am NOT in any way going to knock - hell, it worked for me!), and in the early days of trying to maintain that loss. But, we haven't seen each other, nor talked, since the advent of my low-carb adventures.

From back in the 'old days', she remembered my telling her that I sometimes found it quite a challenge to keep 'on track' with the 'diet' (and what I really mean here is 'way of eating') that ensured I first lost my weight, then didn't regain it. She commented that she recalled my scouring every single food label I encountered for the energy values (calorie content). She also remembered my workplace 'snacks' pile - generally a sizeable arrangement of fruit, a box or two of 'healthy' cereals and cereal bars, and various other 'low-cal' options which I used to tide me over when I got the munchies. She was a little surprised to see that those had all gone, gone, gone.

It was only after she'd left and when I stopped to consider the sugars (oh yes, even in that fruit), and the grains and other carbohydrates, and the chemical additives (I guess the fruit's excepted here, thankfully) that used to make up my 'go to' snacks that I realised that going low-carb has done much more for me than merely helping me stay at a 'sensible' weight without too much of a struggle. One of the clues lies in that word 'label' above.

To bear a label implies that something has been processed and, when I look back at it, quite a lot of my old lifestyle food intake was in some way processed. It was purportedly 'healthy' (often with this very word proudly emblazoned on the label) but, aside from that fruit, it was not usually raw and definitely not in the form which nature provides us with food. Man (yeah OK, probably woman too) had 'messed about' with it in some way.

Being pre-prepared (a.k.a. processed and packaged) it had a 'shelf-life', so inevitably contained preservatives and anti-oxidants and, very often, there were colours and added vitamins too (I guess they were there because the processing had stripped away any colours and vitamins nature provided).

My choices were predominantly low-calorie, so generally low in fat, which meant that other substances (usually sugars - oh yeah, including that universally recognised 'super-food' high fructose corn syrup!) had been added to make it taste of something. What fat was present wouldn't have been natural saturated fats, but cheap, industrially processed (and often partially hydrogenated) oils of some sort.

There'd even be delights like bulking agents (wow, what a horrid term that is) and other chemical joys. In short, those 'look after yourself' snacks were processed crap and a one-way ticket to screwing with one's metabolism.

The way I eat now isn't 100% perfect and I don't suppose for a second that it ever will be (weak-willed is my middle name), so there is 'some' inevitable processing to some of the foods I choose. Still, it's a dramatic improvement over what I considered 'good' choices back then.

The little miracle to me is that the vast majority of what I eat now, and this is largely led by the serendipity of my moving to a low-carb lifestyle to fit in with lovely hubby's needs, is either natural, or has been only 'lightly' processed. What I mean by this is that it does not automatically contain the sort of junk and padding which makes us sick.

I wouldn't classify my eating habits as primal per se, but there are a lot of overlaps. Mark's Daily Apple sums up the basic approach in his advice on "What to Eat and What to Avoid for Lifelong Health". Must admit, while I don't necessarily agree with him over supplements (or the carbs for athlete's option, being only an armchair athlete myself), his primal food pyramid makes pretty good sense to me

Hey, though - there was silly old me thinking primarily of my low-carb food choices in terms of keeping my weight settled (and lovely hubby's blood glucose levels under control), when all along it's also helping to promote an altogether healthier fat lass and family.

Miraculous indeed, and another of Mum's 'blessings' to be counted.

Bye bye Tibolone

Well, it looks like the Tibolone and I didn't get on in the docs opinion too. Funny though. She seemed a lot less bothered by the increased occurrence of night sweats (a.k.a. the fat lass is a human waterfall!) and the dramatic change away from my calm, peaceful moods (fat lass morphing into a she-devil) than she was by the little bit of a skin rash (which I'd thought trivial).

Anyhow, today sees Day 1 of a new regime - this time I'm trying out Premique, which is (apparently) a bit more similar to the old Prempak-C I used to take. We'll see how things go. Cross your fingers for me, eh?

And, on a different note... a sad fact, maybe... but not all is lost

It is a much mentioned 'fact' that ninety per cent of people who go on diets regain the weight within a year. I think that's pretty accurate - after all, I used to be regularly join that ninety percent all too often, following one 'diet' after another over decades.

But, stop and think about this for a moment. Sure, regaining is the majority - but that leaves ten percent of us (of which I am finally one and many of you will also be) who DO NOT regain what they worked so hard to lose. That ten percent is not to be sniffed at - we're doing better than the trend and it's worth looking at why this might be.

So what are we doing right?

Well, everyone will have their own story, but the US National Weight Control Registry studied the habits of the ten per cent of people who did keep their weight off.

Their study looked at people who had shed and kept off between 30lbs and 300lbs over a five year period, or longer.

Here’s what they did:
[comments in brackets are mine, and show what out of the list I do]

78 % ate breakfast every day.     [tick]
75 % weighed themselves at least once a week.     [tick]
62 % watched less than ten hours of TV a week.     [tick]
90 % exercised moderately for an hour every day (most chose walking).     [tick]

Hmmm, pretty nice to get confirmation that, for once in life, you are doing something right, eh?

A helping hand?

I've been a real Moaning Minnie over the last few weeks (sorry about this chaps), but, when I was up in the middle of night recently... worrying again... something positive and wonderful struck me and I was so surprised and delighted that I simply have to share it. It's a bit of a 'eureka!' moment for me and I'm quite excited about it.

And it's that, despite being pretty darned stressed at the moment (and even having those 'diving into chocolate' thoughts), the scales have been, and still are, telling me that my weight has stayed spot-on-the dot stable for weeks. Funny how staying 'the same' isn't something I noticed, whereas a rise (or even a drop) would have made me sit up and take notice pronto, eh?

It's a very 'good' thing, and I'm grateful for that. Grateful not to be gaining, oooh yes indeedy, but also because it's a 'positive' in what seems a sea of negatives at the moment. Enough of the 'poor me' stuff though - I'm well aware that everyone has their own troubles, and mine could be a whole lot worse, so it's time I shut up!

Now, to that stability - once the 'oh, wow' had given way to a bit of thought I'm guessing there's a reason for it... and it's name is 'comfort food'.

In the past, during periods when 'bad stuff' has been going on, I've really struggled to stop myself eating too much, and badly to boot. I've had to lean heavily on my wavering 'willpower' (usually giving myself a 'good talking to' along the way) and it has never, ever been easy. The foods I've naturally gravitated towards and felt drawn to eat (or inhale madly!) were things like bread, potatoes (including crisps and mash), pasta and 'sweet things' of some sort, like biscuits and scones. Comfort foods for the fat lass, please - forget those salads!

I probably don't have to tell you that it's been hard to keep strong and eat sensibly at times like these, and I often failed and fell off the wagon, even if I did manage to haul myself back on track... eventually. But this time seems different, and I'm only just figuring out why.

You see, I hadn't realised it until now, but I simply don't seem to have the same very 'real' urge to stuff my worries down with food. Yes, it crosses my mind that I would really like to 'eat something nice' please, but it's more of an abstract thought now (almost an old habit I haven't quite shaken off), not a 'clear and present danger'. It just isn't accompanied by the same old sense of absolute desperation and real desire to put my thoughts into practice 'right now', say 'to hell with it', and E-A-T everything in sight! It's almost like the 'indulge me' demon has had some of the fight knocked out of him... or is my demon female I wonder.

Anyhow, it could be that merely being more 'aware' of the composition of what I'm choosing to eat, so actually 'thinking' about the food more deliberately, rather than a pure focus on calories alone, could be just an added reminder to me to choose more wisely. So part of the change could be assigned to 'mindfulness', and be more of a staying 'in the moment' matter, I mean.

Similarly, it could be that my habits and tastes have changed enough along the journey so my immediate thoughts of and interest in those age-old 'comfort' foods have just lessened because of that. I'd say there is certainly an element of this going on here too, as I know that some of my old 'go-to' foods (cheese & onion crisps, for example) don't really hold the same appeal any more.

But, I think there's more to it and I'm really beginning to believe that, for me, low-carb life may be a saving grace when it comes to maintaining a steady weight under stress. Maybe, finally, I will not (as for so many years) start piling on the unwelcome avoirdupois when I hit a rocky patch? Well, I certainly haven't suddenly morphed into a dietary angel, and can't see that ever happening!

I know that, where I am concerned, I've mentioned a pretty healthy scepticism about an 'addiction' to sugars (or foods which are broken down into sugars) in the past. I've never really felt that it was an issue for me in the same way as it can be for others - particularly anyone who is unfortunate to have the genetic make-up which means they are carbohydrate intolerant/insulin resistant.

But, I'm simply not 'craving' those filling, stodgy, comfort foods in the same way as I used to do... and this makes me have to think again about a probable 'addiction' factor.

I may be way off base here, but think many 'addictions' may take hold because they are coping mechanisms when the going gets tough. Smoking is probably a reasonable example - how many times has a smoker told me a cigarette 'relaxes' them. However, unless there is a chemically 'addictive' quality to a substance, like nicotine (hmmm, the jury here is still hung when it comes to sugars, although we've just bought John Yudkin's book so I may be converted yet), I feel that a 'substance' of choice (whether it be a drug or food) may often be 'addictive' simply because it provides a 'feel good' of some sort, even if short-lived, which calms us in times of stress.

That's what I would have said about my old desire to eat stodge when things got hard - it wasn't an 'addiction' as such, but those foods gave me a temporary 'feel good', a release from stress in some way. Maybe something to focus on, or maybe a feeling of things being 'safe' or 'normal' or 'unthreatening' in some sense. Hey, guess that's why they are called 'comfort' foods.

Another element is that I 'may' be feeling more satisfied in general with what I'm eating (if so I guess that'll probably be the fat component) so maybe I'm less likely to feel the first inklings of incipient hunger and immediately think I 'need' to eat.

However, I think I'm finally warming to the idea that significant physiological or biochemical changes may indeed have been triggered in my body by the move away from my previous 'normal' or mainstream 'healthy' diet to low-carb way of life.

That is, I'm beginning to believe that there 'could' have been actual changes in 'me', meaning that I'm not experiencing the cravings for comfort foods in the same way as I used to. The trigger-points, that is the stress (in whatever form it takes), may not have disappeared completely, but the responses to it are certainly different and much less prominent.

If things do get bad enough to feel panic stricken and overwhelmed by the worries and that I want to stuff myself silly, which I have to say hasn't really happened in earnest recently, I've noticed that I'm actually picking up low-carb nibbles like nuts or cheese (without really being conscious of doing so). What's more, once I start with the nibbling, I'm not carrying on eating and eating until everything disappears.

For example, I've got a jar of peanut butter (my former 'banned substance' of foods) on a shelf above my desk. I've maybe had the odd teaspoon every few days while things have been stressing me. Even I can hardly credit that the jar is still there and, even better, it's still way more than half full. That'll be a first, as my lovely hubby could tell you! I have some toasted coconut chips too. Now I've always been partial to coconut and it's been something I could eat until I burst. The bag hasn't even been opened yet.

These things may not sound a huge deal but, by 'eck my dears, they are for this fat lass! And I don't think my 'mind' or my 'willpower' or my 'psyche' has changed a jot, so I'm guessing the difference is must be in some aspect of my metabolism, and the only reason for that to happen (that I can think of) is going low-carb.

So, I did a quick Google search to see if anyone has experienced something similar... and found a few things which seem to support my thoughts (as well as some stuff which doesn't). I need to read and understand a LOT more before I start trying to get it down in black and white, but it is a possibility that restricting those sneaky carbohydrates consistently has more benefits than I'd given it credit for.

Thank goodness for low-carb!

That was the year, that was!

So, here we find ourselves.

Today is New Year's Eve... the very last gasp of 2012, and tomorrow brings a brand new year with lots of new opportunities.

Seems like a good time to look back, and forward too.

So, over the course of 2012, what's gone well?

My absolute number one is that I have a happy and healthy (and slimline!) darling lovely hubby once again - a gift without price that I'm so very grateful for.

Next to that is that I KNOW that life is good. Alright, maybe not always, but mostly, and that is another valuable gift to recognise and hold dear.

Weight-wise, I'm at staying nicely put at about the lowest weight I've been for years, with no Christmas gain (glory be!), and that makes this fat lass a very happy girl indeed. I couldn't put hand on heart and say my 'foodie worries' are over forever (constant vigilance is key, my dears!), but every 'good' day is a bonus and I try for as many good ones as possible.

It's also been great to see some of my blogging friends overcoming a variety of problems and getting back in the groove. You lovely chappies, and you know who you are, mean a lot to me... even though we've never met and probably won't get chance to.

... and maybe not gone quite so well?

Hmm, I'm worrying more and more about my Mum, who has been through a rough patch recently. I'm all too aware that every day I still have her with me is precious now, as her age (she's in her nineties) and general state of health is not in her favour.

Fitness. Ah well, it's been OK-ish (and, I guess, it is better than it's been for years) but, just like some of my old school reports, if I'm honest I think I'd give 2012 a 'could try harder'. Part of this is limits on time, but some of it is just down to lazy-itis(!), and the blasted knee has been grumbling too over recent weeks. Particularly over this holiday, so I need to give it some serious attention before it gets any worse. My much-loved rowing machine, Connie, will help with that.

Hey, that isn't a long list, is it? I rather like that!

And looking forward to 2013 - what and where next?

Well, I will carry on with maintaining my weight right where I want it to be. Do you know, I still get a thrill to think I can actually say this. After so many years of obesity and unhappiness, it is such a joy to feel I have 'me' back and in the driving seat again.

I'm planning to make some strides on the fitness front in 2013 - in fact, I have a couple of videos to watch that might give me some tips and help motivate me. Muscle tone. That's what I'd like to concentrate on this coming year.

Unless someone somewhere knows differently (and I really hope this isn't the case), I can look forward to this year without too many worries about health... for myself and for my family. That's a nice feeling to start a new year.

And, oh yes, I'm going to be a great aunt in 2013! I'm still reeling from this new revelation as it makes me feel prehistoric, but it is indeed a wonderful thing to look forward to.

All in all, as we move from the old year to the new, I'm feeling pretty positive. Hope you are too, and I wish everyone a wonderful 2013.

Being yourself...

...and being true to yourself.

I'll warn you now, this is going to be a bit of a loooong ramble. There is a point (the clue is in the title), but it may take a fair time to get to it.

Before I start though, there's a song playing over and over in my head (and has been for days), and it pretty much sums up how I'm feeling at the moment. In my mind this track is all about keeping on and at it, even when things seem like they've got tough.

It's Tom Petty's 'I Won't Back Down', and there's one phrase which just leaps out at me:

Well I know what's right, I got just one life
In a world that keeps on pushin' me around
But I'll stand my ground and I won't back down

Thanks Tom, I've needed this.

OK, back to the ramble... I was speaking quite recently to a someone (of about my own age), who I've known for a lot of years, about weight loss. As almost always happens, she wanted to know what 'my secret' was. Can you hear me groaning yet?

The usual questions came up, as in 'how' had I lost the weight, and 'what' had I done to make a difference. The final question (asked in an almost accusatory fashion) was 'why' was I able, this time, after years on the lose-regain diet roller-coaster ride (some of which she'd seen happen) to maintain a healthy weight and not just heap wodges of weight straight back on like has happened in the past. I started trying to explain... but we didn't get terribly far.

That was, by the way, because she didn't actually want an actual 'discussion', nor real 'answers', nor any 'advice' or 'tips' to lose weight. Unfortunately it was one of those 'where's the magic bullet' chats which quickly morphed into a diatribe about why making long-term changes was 'impossible' and 'couldn't possibly' work for her (my eyes roll and I sigh at this point). Just the sort of conversation I'm afraid I find quite difficult to handle. I growled, hissed and spat inwardly, but kept my patience... and that's quite a feat for the fat lass!

You see, what I actually 'did' to lose the weight was put in time and effort, and that meant first accepting that it would involve me in some pretty hard graft. That is, to take on board the fact that change wouldn't 'just happen'. I'd realised, at long last, that I'd need to think about 'why' what I'd done before didn't work, formulate a plan of 'how' to get going this time, then tweak, review and tweak again the 'what' I was doing, both with food and activity, over a period of time. In fact, it took several years, but that didn't matter. After all, I didn't get to be obese overnight, did I?

And only by doing that have I been able to drop down from my OMG! June 2007 levels, where I was hurting and miserable and in imminent danger of developing some unpleasant medical issues, to where I am today. This was NOT a 'diet', as I've said many times before, it was a radical and permanent change in lifestyle.

That's right, it wasn't a 'quick fix' but sustained hard work. It was also very much an individually tailored approach. Listening to what had helped other people often had some value, but experimenting and figuring out exactly which elements worked for 'me' - sticking with the bits which were useful and ditching the stuff which didn't help (or outright hindered) was the key.

It was a 'work in progress' right the way through, from the very start of the weight loss phase to the day I was happy to say 'OK, that'll do for me'. What's more, it still, quite frankly, is... even now I'm maintaining... a work in progress

You see, whatever lessons I've learned to date (and I feel I've picked up a lot along the way), I'm no expert. I still don't and indeed can't 'know' everything there is to know. I don't get everything 'right' all of the time and, because of this, I'm still acquiring new insights as I go. A largely empirical approach to collecting data, using myself as the guinea-pig (a.k.a. the 'suck it and see' method), is still one I lean upon, and I guess I always will.

But, having pondered this and similar conversations for a while, and having read a lot about other people's experiences, I've come to another conclusion too.

And that is that I've been pretty fortunate in finding things that worked out well 'for me'. I am all too aware that I'd have struggled much more had there been specific metabolic issues or medical issues contributing to my obesity.

In my case (sad as this may be), it was merely a mixture of a lack of control (guess you could call it greed), some serious emotional eating and a very negative attitude to moving my ass, which got me up to my highest weight. And it didn't plop on overnight - no siree, it took time for that to happen.

Another major element of my personal downfall was a lack of understanding that this was purely an internal problem. Where my increasing weight was concerned, I was doing this to myself and it took far too long (and too many failed 'diets') for me to realise that the 'cure' lay within 'me'.

These days, as you'll have seen from recent posts, I follow a low-carb, pretty much 'primal', type of lifestyle, and it works really well for me for in maintaining my weight loss. I enjoy it, I feel satisfied (and even guilty for this at times) and feel it is a long-term, sustainable plan without involving too much of an effort... mostly.

This self-same plan probably would have been a great way to help me lose the weight, had I known more about it (or maybe not been so darned cynical!) from the outset. However, low-carb isn't necessarily a choice I'd have actively considered had it not been for wishing to find a method to control lovely hubby's diabetes without drugs.

You see, the bulk (and I use that term advisedly folks!) of my weight was lost, slowly and steadily, by following a plan I was already well aware of and had tried many times before - a restricted calorie, healthy foods and generally very low-fat approach with a dose of exercise thrown in for good measure.

That was my plan, that's what I did, and that worked 'for me'. I guess that, in this, I am probably one of the lucky ones - although I wouldn't have agreed with that when I hit my inevitable obstacles along the way!

But, chaps, we are all different people, with different bodies, and what works for me may not work for you - and vice versa.

One of the reasons the whole 'diet' (oooh, how I hate that word!) thing worked for me this time around was partly my good fortune (since I don't appear to be either insulin resistant or particularly carbohydrate intolerant) and that sufficient 'time' and, of course, a fair sprinkling of 'effort' was what I gave it. Hence Tom Petty's track, as 'backing down' wasn't an option for me this time.

And that self-same 'time' and 'effort' is what I'm still prepared to give it so that I never, ever go back to obesity and all the problems and angst which came with it. The weight loss, and all it's benefits, quite literally IS worth a lifetime to me.

And so the point (if you've stuck around this long!) of this blether is...
...that losing weight is YOUR journey to make.

So be yourself. Yes sure, you can read loads about other people's experiences, but they will be, at best, some 'rough guidelines' only for you to choose to follow... or not. The choices YOU make are what will ultimately lead to your success (...or failure, to be blunt). But the changes you want to see won't and can't happen in the blink of an eye - be prepared to give it time too.

The journey is all about learning about YOU. Part of that will involve figuring out how to actually 'hear' and then 'listen to' the things YOUR own body is trying to tell you. Not always easy to do but, like most things in life, practise makes... well, if not 'perfect' then at least 'possible'.

Another part is learning 'how' to make the changes (step by step) that your body suggests. Again, not easy. But it is so worth it - as L'Oréal are always telling us!

What I hope will happen is that you'll find a way (your way) to take your body from the dark, 'heavy' place you no longer wish to inhabit to a lighter, brighter, happier one. But this will be YOUR way and don't let anyone ever tell you that it's the wrong way. If it works for you... well, 'nuff said!

This chap has it pretty well 'nail on the head'...
“Be yourself - not your idea of what you think somebody else's idea of yourself should be” Henry David Thoreau

Heck, Tom Petty and Thoreau in one post! Who's feeling philosophical today then, eh?

Remembering...

OK, I have just about managed to haul my way of thinking back to a more positive vein. Next job is to kick-start that 'enthusiasm' engine.

But, before I get going with blathering on about weight related things, with Remembrance Sunday fast approaching and in light of my 'miseries' post of a few days ago, I just wanted to take a moment to consider how fortunate I am.

In particular , to give thanks that my own life has been unaffected by the horrors of conflict experienced by so many people in the past, and still suffered by so many people in other parts of the world even today.

Life is such a fragile thing and can be so deeply affected by events outside our own making. The phrase 'Lest We Forget' is one often voiced around this time, and it does make me stop and think.

In a similar (albeit somewhat less important, in the great scheme of things) way, I sometimes need to stop and think about the changes my life has undergone over the last few years, and to give thanks for the positive things which stem from that. Actually, I can't think of a better time than this.

Again, I feel very fortunate. This time, it's gratitude that the likely 'future' which faced me whilst obese (having been so for years) and desperately unhappy, has been averted. Because I made that one choice, set my mind on that firm committment to set out to turn myself around and improve my health (and my life) by losing my excess burden of weight, in some ways that prospect now seems almost a distant memory. But it's a memory best not forgotten.

Had I not bitten the bullet, accepted responsibility and 'done something' to change, I shudder to think where I'd be now. My weight would almost certainly have continued to rise, year by year. My fitness (minimal though it was back then) and mobility would have deteriorated even more. I'd likely be on medication for a wide variety of health problems by now and, because I pretty much hated being 'me', the spectre of descending into serious depression was very, very real. Not to put too much emphasis on this point, but there was also a chance that, with the strain I was inflicting on my poor abused body every single day, it could have failed me altogether and I might not even be here.

Contrast this with where I actually am today. Today's picture is much rosier by far.

Since my story began, I've lost just under half my old body weight and around eight dress sizes. Better yet, along with this, I have lost fear. Fear of getting even fatter, and of my health further deteriorating. Fear that my lovely hubby could maybe decide a slinkier model would be a better bet. Fear of being out of control of myself. Fear of dying young, but also of living for decades longer but remaining desperately unhappy with my lot. And yes, fear of failure (yet again) if I tried to do something about it, so a very real fear of being trapped in my own body.

I've lost other things too. I have lost much of my old self-consciousness, replacing this with a previously undreamed of confidence. I've lost my cringeing embarassment around new people (although, by God!, I hid it well), and a similar shame around those people I'd known before I grew my fat suit and who now viewed my bulk with pity (and often frustration).

I've lost the need to hide in baggy, drab and unflattering clothes, and the resentment that 'pretty' was out of the question, and the 'big girl' shops were my only option if I did ever want something new. I've lost the sheer horror of seeing a mirror or, worse, a camera pointed my way now that photos don't hold the terrors they used to. I've lost the need to make sad-sack excuses about why I 'didn't want' to do something, when often it was more that I wasn't sure I was able.

I've lost a lot of things I considered 'normal' back then, but now see to have been symptoms of my body's distress. Things like feeling 'old' before my time, like my almost unceasing aches and pains, the near-constant 'bugs' I used to pick up. the skin rashes, the chafing, the horrible spots and zits, the breathlessness. I've lost the need to carry an inhaler with me on every occasion (although habit means I often still do). I've lost the desire to bury my emotions under a sea of food... only to find that they surfaced again all too quickly.

And I've gained such a lot too. I've gained fitness and health and freedom and a new delight in life. I've gained the desire to be active, to get out and about in the fresh air - whatever the weather. I've gained the ability to bend over to tie a shoelace (believe me, I couldn't without a good strong support!). Now I can even pop on a pair of heels if I want to. Hell, I've gained a swimsuit... and I'm not afraid to use it!

And, most of all I've regained 'me', and I've gained my long dreamed of 'more love' for every 'square inch' of me that remains. That is a gift beyond rubies.

So, a time for remembering and a time for giving thanks. Sometimes, maybe especially when things seem to be going awry, it's worth all of us sitting quietly for a moment amongst life's daily madness, and making time to do just that.

Onwards ever...