Solar eclipse...

Sadly, this (and no, it isn't a photo) is about the best we managed here. So cloudy and overcast that it went from grey... to slightly darker grey... then got a bit lighter again.

Can't help being rather disappointed. Ho hum. That's all folks.

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?

Indecision

Ever have days like this?

Am I hungry? Am I just bored? Do I want cheese? Do I want meat? Do I want yoghurt? Do I just want to go for a walk? Do I want to read a book?

Hell, I don't know.

Does nothing and mutters 'whatever'!

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'.

A new word

Hey, it's always nice to stumble across a new word, and that's happened to me today. It's a really appropriate one too. One which made me smile and say 'aha!' when I read the definition.

It's the word 'sophrosyne' (in Greek, the σωφροσύνη above), which originally comes from the name of a Greek goddess who was 'the spirit of moderation, self-control, temperance, restraint, and discretion' and, so the story goes, one of the good spirits that escaped from Pandora's box when the lid was raised.

Now the word means: healthy-mindedness and from there self-control or moderation guided by knowledge and balance. Does that sound familiar...?

Good old Wikipedia goes on to say that the Roman poet Juvenal later re-interpreted this sentiment in one of his verses as 'mens sana in corpore sano', meaning 'a healthy mind in a healthy body'.

In part, his verse went:

    You should pray for a healthy mind in a healthy body.
    Ask for a stout heart that has no fear of death,
    and deems length of days the least of Nature's gifts
    that can endure any kind of toil

Nice, eh?

Wet, wet, wet...

Well, that is one way to sum up our holiday. But, do you know what? It didn't matter a jot and we had a marvelous time despite the almost continual sogginess.

My lovely sister was able to make it after all - I'm so glad, and the four of us got on very well indeed. We walked loads, uphill and down dale, and talked even more, and we ate very well indeed (actually, they were low carb feasts). I'd say we probably consumed a good deal more red wine than is truly good for us too. What the heck - it was great.

We were surrounded by forests and beautiful mountains (and sheep!) and every day we breathed in the fresh, clean country air. We saw the amazing autumnal colours develop in the week we were there, and explored to find stunning waterfalls (the rain helped there, I guess), including one extraordinary one from behind, accessed by paddling through a rocky cavern - wow, what an experience!

We didn't get chance to light the log fire (damn!) as it was so mild, but those same balmy temperatures for this time of year (around 14 to 15 degrees C, both day and night) did mean we could go outside in just our slippers and nighties, when we got up in the early hours, to see the stunning night skies... er, between downpours, that is!

We did talk a lot about our lovely Mum, so there were some moments of sadness and a few tears were shed, but we both agreed that she'd have absolutely loved being with us in this gorgeous place... and she was with us in spirit.

I'm still tired (guess that'll be the case for a while still) but feel renewed in my mind and was ready to face the joys of returning to work after a week's absence. I may regret saying this... but (apart from an email inbox fit to bursting) it hasn't been too horrendous so far.

Counting down

It's that time of year. Only a few more days and we'll be heading off for a well-deserved and long-anticipated break in a cottage in the middle of nowhere. No TV, no mobile reception, no papers, just trees, sheep, great walks on our doorstep and the chance to kick back and relax.

This is somewhere we've been before, but this time it'll be a little different, as we're going to be joined by my lovely sister and her hubby. That's great, and it'll be really good to spend some quiet time together. What between losing our darling Mum a few short months ago, and with everything else that went before... some of which is still causing problems...I think we both need it.

It will make the food side of things slightly more complicated though, as they aren't low-carbers. In fact they're dedicated biccy and sweet stuff fans!

No criticism intended but, in a funny sort of way, my darling lovely hubby and I feel far less restricted and more free with our dietary habits than we feel they are. Neither of them handle 'strong' flavours too well so we'll have to take care with the chilli, spices and even garlic. My sister won't eat beef (remember the BSE scare?) or anything even slightly offal-related, and my brother-in-law won't eat pork, er, unless it's bacon (I know, I know... I just don't understand).

They are not adventurous eaters, but us? Well, we'll not only eat just about anything that (as lovely hubby puts it) 'used to make a noise or move around', but we're 'hey, let's give it a go' when it comes to trying something new.

Still, we've had a long chat about it (I guess my sis was quite worried about our foodie weirdness) and I think we've convinced them that we'll be able to eat pretty much the same for most meals - just we'll load up on the low-carb things we do eat and ditch the grains/sugars/high-carb bits. It'll work out fine.

One thing we both agree on is that a drop (or two) of red wine won't go amiss!

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!

That just about sums up my weekend (imagine me wearing a great big cheesy grin). It was fantastic! We set off for the wilds of Wales (to a hamlet over the border but not a million miles from Oswestry) in the 'oooh my Lord!' early hours of Saturday.

Off we went to meet the artist we've commissioned to make us something special in celebration of our forthcoming tenth wedding anniversary. What is this wondrous thing? Well, those of you who are made uncomfortable by sloppy and romantic stuff can skip the next bit...

We've had a marvellously detailed cast made of our joined hands (you can see every hair and wrinkle), showing my wedding and engagement rings in all their glory, and the finished piece will take pride of place on our living room wall where everyone can see it. The whole process was such a lot of fun to be involved with, and once we have collected it I'll put a picture of it in another post.

This cast was only stage one though. The finished article will be a 'hammer & chisel-free' marble piece that's actually made of a sturdy synthetic resin with added ground marble. So we'll have something with all the appearance of a beautiful Roman sculpture, but with no pesky stone chips to hoover off the carpet!

It got better. Eating was great as we had a series of car picnics (the best of all was an avocado, iceberg, red cabbage and ham salad with hard boiled duck eggs and mixed seeds). Also, the hotel we stayed at on Saturday night serves a stonkingly good low-carb breakfast. We feasted on smoked haddock and poached eggs (me) and bacon, scrambled eggs and mushrooms (lovely hubby). Phew! it was good and it sated us until early Sunday evening.

We seemed to eat absolutely loads, but when I hopped on the scales this morning my weight is down a tad again. Funny how these things go.

Then, the gala concert we went to in Birmingham on Sunday afternoon, after joining in with the Bullring's tenth anniversary celebrations (coincidentally), was outstanding too. Three of the top British brass bands to listen to, all in one go, with the Black Dyke, Fodens and Cory all playing their socks off. What an afternoon!

Nice to have something positive to share. Have a good week folks.

Endings and beginnings

Well, they always do say that when one door closes in life, another one somewhere opens. So, I'm delighted to think about that freshly opened door, and tell you some good news for a change.

My sweet niece (after a pretty easygoing pregnancy, but a very, very long and quite traumatic labour) now has a lovely little girl who has, I understand (since I've yet to see the much awaited pictures), a little shock of gingery hair and is utterly "beautiful".

She may have been a bit reluctant to make her move into this strange new world, but having been persuaded to join us is happy and healthy and apparently getting the hang of mealtimes.

Mum and babe are still in hospital, but her Daddy has changed her nappies several times and, when told by the staff how proficient he, as a brand new dad, seemed to be, casually remarked "well why shouldn't I be... I have four nieces!"

Oooh, I can't wait to see her.

There is just the tiniest tinge of sadness that my lovely Mum didn't get the chance to hold her great grand-daughter. We can't share the excitement with her, but in my heart I believe she knows what's happening and shares our joy from a better place.

I wonder...

Sorry chaps - this one has turned into particularly lengthy fat lass ramble so do feel free to skip me blethering on. Perhaps it's been triggered by recent events or maybe I've reached that stage in life, but I've found myself deep in thought for many reasons recently.

Yep, the fat lass has definitely been 'wondering' about stuff in recent weeks... hmmm, make that months... and loads of different things have zipped through my thoughts. Just like the Grinch, I've been puzzling and puzzling 'til my puzzler is sore.

One of the random and inconsequential things I've wondered about is when, precisely, did tomatoes morph from being a savoury staple to a sweet treat (well, in my opinion anyhow).

Looking back to the days before the new low-carb 'us', we used to buy and use tomatoes in bulk. We loved 'em, and almost everything we cooked included them, be they fresh, tinned or paste (and sometimes a mixture). Think of that holy trinity of tomatoes, onions and garlic as our starting point, and you'll get the picture. And it always, always, always seemed like those gorgeous red globes were savoury, to me. Since we moved over to our low-carb lifestyle, and as tomatoes pack quite a carbohydrate punch, we've drastically reduced this reliance on them in our cooking.

Imdeed, we've moved away from buying weighty bunches of the big beefy vine tomatoes and now buy maybe one small box a week of the teensy tiny cherry toms instead. No longer, even in a salad, do we have a whole large tomato or more each. Now one, or maybe two, of the teeny weeny cherry tomatoes apiece is quite sufficient.

And, d'ya know what, these little darlings are amazing. They're like sweet little flavour bombs. I suppose I 'knew' they were fruits but wow! I find I really do only need one or two, chopped into small sections, to be satisfied with that sudden burst of juice-filled tomatoey flavour. Guess now I don't eat much in the way of 'added' sugars my tastes have changed.

I've also wondered a lot about how (or rather, whether) I would have coped with the events and stresses of recent weeks and months had lovely hubby and I not changed the way we eat.

By 'change', I don't mean any recent change that I haven't mentioned before, but the sustained move over the last year or so to cut out all added sugars, processed foods and associated 'crap', and minimise our carbohydrate intake drastically. In other words, to maintain our bodies in a ketogenic state as far as possible (and possible it is!), dip-stick testing weekly to check that we haven't inadvertently strayed. To keep to this plan, we now only include smallish amounts of fresh veggies (primarily things like spinach, leafy greens, and the cruciferous veg) and a few lower-carb berries for most of the carbohydrate contribution to our diet. Hey, know what? It's easier than it sounds too.

Somehow, without this move to a radically different diet/lifestyle, I think I'd now be writing to confess my latest descent off the back of the wagon.

I'd doubtless be bemoaning a weight gain, maybe a pretty substantial one by now, grumbling about how challenging my struggles had been and coughing up to those the 'treats' I'd indulged in. I'm guessing that an unhealthy reliance on comfort eating may have been involved in this (sure, with vending machine crisps and chocolate playing their part). Yeah, the old-style fat lass was definitely an emotionally driven eater.

I cannot and won't say I haven't comfort eaten at all through this - because I have. Perhaps a bit of an increase in the cheese and olives 'snack' component of my diet is testament to that - but it hasn't been overwhelming, and I've actually lost weight in recent weeks (much to my surprise). This is significantly different than during previous periods of stress in my life. And, whatever I have nibbled under stress this time hasn't tipped me overboard into stuffing my face until I feel like I could burst. Now how amazing is that? There you go, Mum - that's a blessing counted.

But, back to my main point... I've mostly wondered just how much of an ass I must have been.

Much as it pains me to say it, I think I've probably been an ass for years. How could I (supposedly trained as a scientist, for heaven's sake) have believed in and dedicatedly followed the 'sound dietary advice' spouted by so-called experts, about basing the bulk of my food intake on 'low fat' pseudo-foods and those 'healthy' whole-grain carbs, for so long?

What's worse, this slavish adherence just plain 'happened', without my giving a single moment's thought to it's validity or taking a nano-second to consider whether the advice was, in fact based on good solid science. Instead, without so much as a backward glance or a quibble, I accepted what I read and heard and 'assumed' it was right.

Silly old fat lass! Assumptions, after all, make an ASS out of ME (...and maybe U too).

Having now pored over lots of detailed explanations (er, I guess some may still call it 'heresy') from the likes of Phinney & Volek, John Briffa, and the Eades, John Yudkin, Robert Lustig and a lot of other people who lay out the scientific basis for carbohydrates (and especially sugars) being something rather less than the 'healthy' basis for a balanced diet that the 'eatwell' plate (amongst other things) recommends, I wish I had come across this years ago.

Maybe, just maybe, had I encountered this scandalous idea earlier, and taken the time to review the science behind it as I have been trained to do, I wouldn't have endured my decades of obesity. Perhaps I wouldn't have tried and failed at so many 'diets', always beating myself up for my failures, and despairing as I grew more and more heavy over time.

Maybe, had I encountered this earlier, I could be looking back at photos taken of my Mum and her grown-up 'little' girl (me) together, and not always see her tiny frame dwarfed alongside her gargantuan daughter. Bless her, though. While I know she was worried about me, she never, ever judged me and she loved me anyway. Still, I can't turn the clock back and it does make me feel sad.

That may be so, but I'm so very, very grateful that she got to see me change my bad habits in the end - steadily moving downwards through the weight-loss pathway towards where I am now. Healthy again. There you go again - that's another blessing counted. How am I doing, my lovely Mum?

So, back to this wondering business...

With regards low-carb, this time I haven't been content to just read what this new bunch of 'experts' say and accept it, but I've thought and wondered, and checked, and counter-checked, and researched, and even gone back to some of the original published research papers myself, and generally made use of a little grey matter.

Between this newly acquired 'knowledge' and with the benefit of seeing the positive (if empirical) results for both me and my lovely hubby, I'm finally happy to concede that the 'eatwell' plate is, after all, the 'eatbadly' plate that Zoe Harcombe describes. Sorry if this is beginning to sound like so much evangelical zealotry on my part, but I do rather feel like Saul on the road to Damascus at times.

I've been wondering about other stuff too. I've read quite a lot in various blogs and books, over the last few months, about addiction. Food addiction, that is. Specifically, an addiction to sugar and to wheat.

Now I'll be the first to admit that I've been seriously sceptical about 'addiction' to any sort of foods in my own case. If I'm honest, I thought it was hogwash! Until recently I've been much more inclined to think my penchant to overeat was of my own making. Hey, there's that self-blame all too many of us are willing to take on board - but before I condemn this as 100% negative, in my case I think a healthy measure of it actually helped me.

You see, a good part of my 'self-blame' stemmed from all the years I spent on that decades-long 'diet' roller-coaster, looking for 'something' (anything, whether it be hormones or circumstances!) upon which I could 'blame' my obesity. Now I look back at it, what I was doing was quite a commonplace thing. I was looking for someone or something to take the hit, and a for there to be a nice neat quick fix for whatever was 'wrong'.

The mythical magic bullet was what I was seeking. For way too many years, I didn't countenance that any 'blame' for my weight problems could ever be pointed in my direction. What? My actions the cause? Hell, no way!

But, there probably always was a tiny seed of doubt there and, for me anyway, it turned out that I was only able to bite this particular bullet and take positive action to first lose and then maintain my weight loss once I'd accepted personal responsibility for 'my' part in the original (and subsequent) gains. That's where the self-blame (or call it taking responsibility if you'd prefer) helped me. Until the point when I took on board that it was to do with 'me' and there wasn't an external (if convenient) 'cause' for it, year in year out, diet by failed diet, this ageing broad just kept on growing broader!

However, and this is a pretty large 'but', the more I have read about this subject, the more I now wonder... was all of that responsibility 'really' mine to take?

As I say, when it comes to 'me' and food addiction I was sceptical in the extreme. In part, this was because (as you'll know if you've read older posts from the 'losing' days) I didn't lose the bulk of my weight and improve my health through the low-carb route, but followed a low-fat, reduced calorie 'diet' and increased my activity levels. And this was successful... for me.

Maybe I'm one of the lucky ones, and because of this I really have doubted that the 'healthy' food I was choosing could possibly be addicitive or cause me harm in any sense.

Sugar (or sweet stuff) in itself hasn't generally been such a big thing for me. While I've always been partial to the odd cake or scone or chocolate up to a point, they weren't 'my' thing in a that big a way - most of my passions were, and still are, savoury. Sweet or savoury though, a good many of my 'go to' foods used to be wheat based and the overwhelming majority were seriously carbohydrate heavy.

Potatoes and other root veg, pasta, pastry, bread (hey, wholemeal of course!), those occasional scones, potato and wheat-based snack foods, lots of sweet fruit, etc.... heck, you get the picture.

But now I wonder... were those carbohydrates, whether sweet or savoury, a driver (at least to some extent) for my desire to eat, or stuff down, more than I could reasonably hold. Although I've always considered (and still do) that I don't have a carbohydrate tolerance problem per se, maybe, just maybe, I was not entirely correct. Maybe that constant top-up of insulin-triggering foodstuffs did indeed tip me into a whole different place - one I didn't knowingly recognise or understand anything about.

Perhaps that's not too surprising though. Karen over at Garden Girl has described her own problems with sugar and wheat as leading to "brain fog and numbing" and she, quite rightly, goes on to say "this stuff is COMPLEX..."

A little aside...

Before going low-carb, if you'd dared suggest that I could and would willingly put aside my life's 'staples' I'd have been absolutely horrified. I've been prepared to compromise on a lot of things, and indeed had already done that with a lot of things I'd previously thought almost 'essential', but give up my good, wholegrain, home-made bread? No way, Jose!. Almost certainly I would have growled at you and muttered something like “Nope! Don't be so bl**dy silly - I could never ever give up my beautiful healthy bread!”.

Since I have done though, it isn't such a trauma. I've realised now that life without bread isn't a deal killer at all. Whee, what a liberating thought that is. Could it be that my declared adherence to bread as 'necessary' to my life (my staff of life, perhaps?) was a form of addiction? Who knows.

So, maybe those years of obesity weren't actually 'all' my fault, even if I still feel that some part of my seemingly never ending weight gain was down to me - see, there's that mea culpa again! But, could I have been, in any sense, an addict?

I'm not sure, and I'm not convinced I'll ever really know, but if I was, and if behavioural changes are anything to set store by, maybe 'recovering' addict would be closer to the truth these days. After all, I now better understand my own weaknesses and am all too aware that I'll always be just one slip away from the carb-fuelled chaos of comfort eating. A low-carb lifestyle certainly helps me, but...

Hmmm, I really do wonder...

Feelings...

Oh boy, are they ever mixed up and muddled at the moment. I seem to have found myself on the emotions roller-coaster with no way to get off, even though the ride is making me quite queasy.

Warn you now - what follows is, in essence, the fat lass venting her spleen. It's nothing remotely to do with weight loss, or maintenance, or anything much at all like the things I'd usually write. However, I do need to get this stuff off my chest for my own comfort and sanity before I get a grip and take the advice in the graphic (if I can!).

Please do feel free to navigate away, move on to someone else's words and forget about the negativity that follows.

OK then, this roller-coaster... one minute I'm quietly smiling at a happy memory of better times (yep, you've got it pegged - these beautiful thoughts pretty much all involve my darling Mum), the next moment I'm desolate and the tears are springing to my eyes - even when there's been no apparent trigger. And then there's the almost overwhelming anger...

I've mentioned my sister a fair bit in the past. She is such a sweet, supportive, thoughtful lady and I'm proud to have a lovely sister like her. Even if we have our differences (which we do) we can talk about them nicely and respect each other's viewpoints, even if we don't agree. What (or rather who) I probably haven't mentioned very much is my other sibling.

You see, I also have a brother. An elder brother who is, of course, by dint of being both older than me and male, always 'right'. Yeah, you got it - he's absolutely correct, 100% of the time... in his own eyes, anyhow. We have had a 'challenging' relationship for a very loooong while but, for the sake of my darling Mum, I've kept my mouth firmly zipped and kept the peace by treading carefully, soothing bruised feelings, sympathising with his multitudinous woes and pandering to all the negative vibes... for years (actually it runs into decades now).

Maybe, in retrospect, that wasn't such a great plan but heck, that's what I did. This isn't just down to him and me though - he has an equally (if not more) difficult relationship with my sister, and various other members of the family have also had their fair share of problems interacting with him.

Let me get this up straight though - my brother isn't an intrinsically bad person. He's not evil, despite anything I go on to say. How could he be, eh? He's my mother's son after all. He's just not an easy man in any way, shape or form. I think he's actually quite a damaged individual. One who is highly-strung, and always has been looking back, and one who is readily (and constantly) stressed. One who, when he feels vulnerable in any way (he really can't cope with 'feelings') responds like a beaten dog might do - with seemingly unprovoked aggression.

Now I am fully aware that every person will need to manage their grief differently, and he is entitled to handle things in his own way. If his way happens to be quite unlike mine, then that is just fine.

But, and this is where my anger comes from, he seems utterly oblivious to the fact that what he's doing has a hurtful impact (and a significant one) on others. He is, both verbally and by his actions, making things a whole lot more difficult than they should be at what is already a very difficult time. Even when we've tried to explain the impact of his approach, words and actions, he dismisses us and discards what we say - it isn't relevant, he won't even listen to us and thinks we are 'faffing about'...

This isn't only affecting we three siblings any longer, nor does it just have a knock-on effect on our respective husbands and wives. Actually, his wife is a contributing factor too - but that's another tale. The problems are affecting Mum's beloved grand-daughters (one of whom is very pregnant and could well do without added strain), some of my cousins (especially those who were very close to Mum as she treated them like her own kids) and also her one surviving brother. Thank God Mum isn't here to see this - we can barely believe that this sort of thing would ever happen to our family... but it is happening.

There is a particular 'something' going on which is making my blood pressure rise and my mental 'temperature' approach full boil. Actually there are several 'somethings', but I digress. The M-A-J-O-R blot on my emotional landscape is the undue haste with which big brother is pushing to get Mum's house completely and utterly cleared (down to the last odd button - just don't mention 'house clearance' to me right now!), sold to the first bidder (in the twinkling of an eye, if you please) and gone forever.

Whilst the logical part of me can understand that there may be a desire on his part to 'move on' and get back to 'normal' life, Mum's funeral only took place a few short days ago.

Sorry bro, but you really need to back off a little here. It's way too soon to be acting like this and by forcing the issue you've initiated a sustained and heartfelt push-back on our part which you probably hadn't anticipated - we do after all need 'some' time to say our goodbyes and come to terms with the fact that we've lost our mother. We're all hurting.

Hell, my sister actually called him out about this over-eagerness at the weekend. She told him that she felt he was "trying to erase every last trace of Mum from existence", an accusation he vehemently denies but one which I reckon holds at least an element of truth. It wasn't a pleasant interchange at all - a master of understatement, this! Similarly reactionary and explosive conversations have occurred off and on for quite some time, covering various topics, both before we lost Mum and since. All of this is taking a toll... a serious one.

Add to this that my sister and I are still desperately trying to understand what's happening, and trying hard to keep some sort of compromise going so that the rift in the family doesn't open wider or deepen further. Just now I feel like Canute, and the incoming tide feels like an unyielding adversary! It seems that pretty much all of our mental resources are being devoted to this battleground, rather than to dealing with losing Mum. This cannot be right.

One other little problem to add to the mix is that every time we go back to Mum's, our family home, (which has been every weekend and various days in between up to now), this involves us both in around a 400 mile round trip. My sister lives about the same distance away as I do and both of us work. So, you can add growing weariness from the travelling to the emotional upheaval. Oh yeah, and a night's uninterrupted sleep is still a luxury. I guess that means you can see why I'm so dog-tired and why I need to vent.

The latest is that we 'may' have come to something approaching a compromise of sorts, thanks to my Uncle's calm and mature input, but I still can't see the way forward at the moment. I guess there's just too much raw emotion surrounding this whole business. Will he honour what's been tentatively agreed? I don't know (and can't know) how this will pan out in the end, but I do know that the situation is causing/has caused a divide that I'm not sure can ever heal. What's worse is that I'm not sure that's something I care too much about any more.

The way I'm feeling right now, once this period is over I don't really want to maintain contact with my brother and his wife. I've lost trust in him, I've lost any sympathy I had, I've lost that familial love for him, and it feels like I've lost my brother as well as my Mum.

OK, take a deep breath. It's time to try to set aside the emotional baggage, seek serenity, then grasp and hold tight to the faith that things will indeed turn out for the best. Onwards, ever...

Oh Lord, I'm a 'pusher'...

...and deja vu.

Getting the 'I've been here before' moment out of the way first... I've just been growled at. Completely unjustly too, dammit. I think you could say that I'm not a very happy bunny at the moment.

Almost a year ago, to the day, I had a 'conversation' of sorts about post-festivities weight gain with a colleague.

This morning I talked to him again, and he was "very down" about starting another year with a bigger mid-section than before the Christmas break. To start with, I felt some sympathy. But, just as it went with January 2012, he then seemed to get quite cross with me - almost verging on the aggressive in a verbal way - because I hadn't "gained weight" too.

To put it bluntly he thinks, just like last year, that it "isn't fair" and I have to admit that I began to struggle at this point. I counted to ten and bit my tongue REALLY HARD to stop myself saying what I wanted to say... which is that he's his own worst enemy. OK that's what I used to be like too, so I do understand, but he has had a whole twelve months to do 'something' if he's truly unhappy with his weight (he apparently does not take it too seriously as I still see biccies and cakes on an almost daily basis!).

Once he'd got grumpy with me I also wanted to point out that it isn't actually mandatory to stuff one's upper orifice over Christmas. Funny enough I can't recall coming across the 'eat it' rules printed out for all to see or catch breaking news reports of Santa beating people with a baseball bat if they don't overindulge on the mince pies!

Oh heck, I guess the best I can do is mutter into my (healthy!) lunchbox and let it go.

And the pusher? Er, I've done a bad thing (at least I think I have).

I was given a box of Famous Names liqueur chocolates which, even if I wasn't low-carb these days, I hate with an absolute passion. I brought them in to our communal kitchen area just over 24 hours ago and, darn me if they haven't completely evaporated! Gone in a flash!

Trouble is, now I feel guilty for inflicting this sugary crap on other people. Ho hum, mea culpa.

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.

That funny feeling

OK, so the jeans pic isn't me. The ones you see are the same brand as mine, probably a pretty similar size too, but mine are a nice 'denim jeans' blue, not black. Oh, and no way would I wear tan moccasins with black jeans. Aaaargh, the horror!

Now I've got that off my chest I'll confess that although I'm feeling a little 'funny' right now, I think I'm probably secretly pleased for the most part. However I'm also cringeing a little. And the cause of this apparent duality is...?

Comments and compliments. Oooh er, missus, but there've been a few in the last week or so, and it's all because 'stuff' has been happening at work where I knew I'll be running around, shifting things and getting generally grubby (make that filthy dirty!). So I've come in to work wearing jeans - a most unusual event.

Now I may be 53 years young, but I'm an old-school sort of gal. My jeans (now I can wear such wondrous things again) are usually kept just for 'me' time and are, er... closely fitting, for want of a better way to put it. That is, they show my shape pretty clearly. Quite unlike my customary nice 'respectable' work trousers which, being 'comfortable' as well as smart, leave everything to the imagination thank you very much!

So, running around in uncommon attire in the workplace just recently has generated a few comments. For the main, these have been positive, although one person did hint a bit and sort of ask in a roundabout way if I might be 'unwell' as I'd "got so thin" recently - although I haven't actually changed much in ages and the way I've been rushing about recently is surely testament to my fitness, no?

But the truly cringe-making remark stemmed from a chap who told me I looked like "a young girl" which was nice of him I guess, but who then proceeded to shoot himself in the foot and tell me that he "liked little girls". Sorry folks but that, even if said in jest, gave me the heebie-jeebies. Shudder!

Even setting that rather dodgy, er, 'compliment' aside, I'm finding it quite an uncomfortable thing to have the people I work with passing judgement (even positive judgement) on my appearance. OK, I'm used to being judged on my ability to do my job, but my looks? That's a horse of quite another colour! Hmmm, doesn't make me feel even slightly relaxed. In fact, it stresses me out quite a lot.

Is this just a confidence thing though, or could it maybe be a throwback to the days when I'd do anything to hide my obesity from comment?  Those dark old 'don't look at me' days when I hid in drab, baggy clothes may be gone, but are sure as heck not, methinks, forgotten. So which is it? Not sure if I know to be honest.

How do other people feel when remarks about personal appearance come your way? Does what is said make a difference, and does it matter who says it? Do you revel in compliments, or do you (like me) feel quite unsettled?

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Blimey! Just how many times in a single day can a poor fat lass swing from mindset to mindset? Ever had 'one of those' roller-coaster days?

The day started off well enough, albeit a tad too early for my liking, with a fun rowing session on Connie and a successful stint at the good ole abs stuff. My bus came on time, it didn't rain on me and I got to work without a quiver. Mindset pretty good at this point.

The morning went along fairly well, and I got a fair amount accomplished,but then... whammo! Just before lunch the Bad News Bears ganged up on me and I had one hassle after another. Sometimes they didn't even wait until I'd dealt with one 'crisis' until the next one rolled along. I won't go into detail but somehow, each and every one of 'em became 'my problem' to sort out. Mindset now? Grrr, pretty bad!

Stomped out, still growling quietly to myself, at lunchtime down to the solicitor's office to sort out a change to our wills. Good move as my 'witnesses' were both lovely people and between that and the walk in the fresh air, I was back into a positive mood again.

OK, back to the grind and I WAS going to eat my lunch in peace. Er, that was the plan, anyway. It didn't happen! So at 4pm I've just finished my lunch (though I can't say I really enjoyed it much) and am, once again, pretty grumpy.

And the ugly? Yesterday, I was given a box of chocolates as a 'thank you'. A lovely gesture and, I felt, quite undeserved. I took the box home to dutifully give away. I felt strong, and good about that and not even minimally tempted. Great stuff, eh?

But today there was an exhibition with a mini competition at my workplace. Go on, you've guessed it haven't you. I won it... and the prize was the bloody great box of chocolates! My reaction was an immediate 'great, wow, fantastic' until the penny dropped and I realised I couldn't even eat one measly choccy without the low-carb business going snafu! Oh.... rude words!

Of all the days to tempt a fat lass almost beyond bearing, this one is it. Feeling mightily peed off, I put the box out for the office gannets to devour, and busied myself until the blasted box had completely emptied. Didn't take long. Guess who disposed of the empty box though? Yep, yours truly!

Ho hum, tomorrow MUST be a better day, right? Onwards ever...

Missus Shift It, that's me!

Yep, that's me alright. For the last three days I've moved, shifted, re-organised, re-labelled, chucked out, cleaned and generally blitzed a couple of rooms at work in preparation for refurbishment work... which starts at sparrow-cough on Monday.

Why the mad panic rush, fat lass? Couldn't you have planned this better? Hmmm, you may well ask.

The rush is all to do with yours truly asking for weeks (and yes, I mean this quite literally!) when the work will start so I can make a plan and enroll some able assistance. The answer I 'always' got was "ah well, we think it'll be soon-ish, but can't give you a date just yet". Huh! That's men for you.

That WAS the answer, that is, until Wednesday morning when I asked for the umpteenth time and was told that Monday is the big day. What the ?*!#? Nothing like a tight deadline then...

So... in the past few days I've shifted fridges, freezers, filing cabinets, desks, drawer units, lab equipment (some big, awkward and seriously heavy) and a gazillion boxes of 'stuff'.

I've swept and washed floors, cleaned shelving and generally got my hands (and every darned thing else) filthy dirty, whist fielding questions from almost everyone who passed about what I was doing and why. Very few came with an 'is there anything I can do?' offer!

As of this moment I ache, I'm extremely grubby and a tad disheveled, a bit bruised in places and I'm absolutely knackered, but I feel really, really, very satisfied.

Why? Because I did it... And because I 'could' do it... And because, despite a return of summer here in the UK, I barely broke a sweat... And all that is in the most part because of the weight loss and fitness. Faced with this task a few years ago I'd probably have curled up and cried. Not now! It was head down, grit teeth and get on with it.

I've still rowed and done my abs workout in the mornings, still gone walking at lunchtime. I've (mainly) eaten sensibly. I feel strong and powerful and unstoppable, and there's a snippet of song playing over in my head at the moment. It's by the late, great James Brown, and it goes

Whoa-oa-oa! I feel good, I knew that I would, now
I feel good, I knew that I would, now
So good, so good...

Meet Connie

Thought I'd just introduce our new house-mate. Say hello to Constanza Beata del Magnifico, a.k.a. Connie.

She may have only just started to live with us, but has already secured a place in our hearts.

She's a lovely neat and quiet lady. Slightly used she may be (er, she certainly shows one or two of her previous life's stresses) but she's one smooth lady, and informative too (her PM3 gives us a LOT of information - and I will investigate the 'fish game' option!) and she's an absolute joy to use.

We've already had a lot of fun with her and will continue to do so.

Otherwise, things are still ticking along nicely so nothing major to report. I'm still trying to get my head around metabolic pathways and different food groups so will probably blither on about that in another post.

Onwards ever...

Water, water, everywhere...

Duh! Friday was one of those days.

There was the fat lass, thinking she felt hungry, but knowing she couldn't actually still be hungry because a delicious lunch had been munched not all that long ago (OK, if you must know - it was two large, juicy, deep red and fragrant chopped tomatoes and a spread of hot pepper paste on a slice of rye bread) .

The old 'bad' side of her started hunting about for something 'acceptable' to eat, and was getting close to doing something she'd regret when (thankfully) the penny dropped. Silly old fat lass! She was not hungry at all. What she was feeling was thirsty!

I usually fill my water bottle first thing when I get to work, and then have emptied it to refill again by just after lunch. What's more, I usually have a big mug of lemon tea mid-morning. However, Friday was a little hectic and although I drank most of my tea (albeit cold) my water bottle remained, filled to the brim and unloved, on my desk. It was also a summer's day, even if not the hottest summer's day ever.

Aha, dehydration! OK, that was remedied easily enough and... as if by magic, the hunger disappeared. Elementary, my dear Watson!

A trip out to a lovely waterside pub (on the banks of the River Nene) for lunch with friends on Saturday was also on the cards. We knew this was going to be a serious indulgence so planned accordingly and daintily nibbled a suitably 'minimalist' breakfast before we went.

I couldn't even consider fighting my way through three courses (oh, how things have changed!), so skipped the starter and sipped a spritzer instead. Mind you, lovely hubby's starter of home made chicken liver pate looked and smelled delicious and I did steal some of his salad accompaniment. He had a monster-sized battered fish fillet (from Moby Dick?) and thick-cut chips as a main course, and pronounced it to be very good - but couldn't finish it all, it was such a big portion.

I opted for the Ploughman's for my main course (laughably on the 'light bites' section of the menu) and was not disappointed. I think it would have stuffed two ploughmen, to be honest. There it sat, on a wooden trencher, a substantial hunk of freshly-baked, warm cottage loaf (and generous pat of butter on the side), an ample(!) chunk of cheddar, a thick slice of lovely home-cured ham, a quarter of a gorgeous home made pork pie with beautiful hot water crust pastry and loads of lovely jelly (which was delicious!) and the usual, plenteous, accompaniments of pickled onions, a Branston-style pickle and a fantastic chunky and spicy piccalilli (of which I am a serious fan). I'm afraid I couldn't do the cheese, bread and butter justice... but the rest disappeared!

Between the four of us, we shared some deliciously indulgent (and highly calorific) puds. Even so, we didn't manage to eat everything and felt a bit guilty that we couldn't. We groaned outside for a stroll by the water afterwards. Neither lovely hubby nor I wanted anything to eat for the rest of Saturday!

More water on Sunday morning. This time in the form of a lovely walk along the river Cam, setting off about 7.30 out towards Baits Bite Lock. We figured that we probably walked about six and a half miles in total (when we added in our little 'oooh, I wonder what's down there' diversions) and had a fabulous morning out in the sunshine. Chatted to people out for their own constitutional, made friends with a variety of dogs, saw rowers, runners, cyclists and strollers, watched herons, ducks, swans and a gazillion pigeons. Food was rather more restrained than on Saturday and our tummies said a heartfelt 'thanks' for that. A very good day.

In fact, a very good weekend.

Sweet Thursday

Hmmm, this week's post was about to be called "Soggy and fed up" and then, thankfully, Thursday happened. And what's so sweet about Thursday, you may ask? Well, for a start the sun shone so I had a super lunchtime walk.

It really isn't a great summer, here in the UK, and it's been affecting my mood a bit. Oh, I've got so fed up with grey skies, cold weather in June, and unremitting rain. I wouldn't mind so much, but we still (apparently, and completely crazily) have a hosepipe ban as we are in a 'drought'!

We had a lovely weekend (if not too sunny), and even managed a day walking which was fabulous. However... earlier this week I had a couple of pretty bad days. I got absolutely drenched three times on Monday and was none too happy about it. I did at least get home to a lovely hot bath, courtesy my darling lovely hubby who'd figured out I wasn't in the best of spirits. That helped... a lot.

Tuesday was slightly better, but still... how can I word this? Ah yes, 'challenging' (actually, work stuff has been awful all this week!) so my cheerfulness seemed to take a hike and, well, you know those days when you just don't feel 'nice'? You do? Well, Tuesday was one of them - big time. Wearing exactly the same clothes as I've done in the past, and felt good in, on Tuesday I felt old, fat, worn out and frumpy.

My weight is OK, so it isn't that. After a few more treats than we should have eaten over the previous weekend I got up to a tad higher than I'd like to report - about 56kg. But I saw the change, have addressed the problem before it could get worse, hit the veggies and am making progress in getting that needle to move a little way back down the scale. Only a wee bit more and I should feel truly content with it again. My clothes still fit (some old favourites are even a bit too loose), but I.guess some more toning wouldn't go amiss. No problem, just something else to address :-)

Wednesday... well it was a day. Not completely dreadful, but not great either.

And Thursday? Well, still a (very!) challenging day at work, but Thursday was sweet, and the sunshine really helped.

It has reminded me that it's pointless to let things get on top of me, but way more sensible to kick up a notch and change things for the better. I have so much to be grateful for - my darling lovely hubby, my health and a welter of other things too. Hmm, maybe a post listing them might be an idea... soon!

John Steinbeck said that "Sweet Thursday is the day between Lousy Wednesday and Waiting Friday". Today is Friday and I'm waiting alright - I'm off to see my darling Mum in just a few hours time, and can hardly handle the wait!

Have a great weekend. Onwards ever...

A wonderful (if wet) weekend

Arrrrrgh! I'm not used to late nights any longer (the fat lass is getting a bit long in the tooth, methinks), so this morning saw me dragging myself unwillingly out of bed and running a tad late. Still, a visit from my lovely sister and her hubby this weekend was just what the doctor ordered. It has been so nice to chat and set the world to rights together, and just to spend time with eachother.

We did the usual whirlwind cleaning session on Saturday morning so the place looked (and smelled) all squeaky clean and welcoming when they arrived. Where does that dust come from, eh? We polished and put lovely fresh flowers in a vase, and made up a little bunch for their room too.

The weather was indisbutably not conducive to going out and about. That was because we had our customary Great British Bank Holiday special weather arrangements in place - it's the law that Bank Holidays should be wet, windy, wild & woolly, and, just to add to the fun, darned chilly too! So we spent most of our time indoors inside in the warm and dry, just relaxing (although sis and I did spend a few hours perusing the local clothes shops, trying on but not buying). Heaven!

We certainly ate well*, but we didn't go completely crazy with our shared meals and actually ate very moderately for the rest of each day. Er..., on reflection we found that we drank more than we usually do, but not to the point of feeling it the next morning. The big thing is that we generally all enjoyed just being able to spend a few days together.

*On Saturday night, I cooked a batch of kedgeree for us all, with rice, onions, good fish stock, spices, red peppers, lots of garden peas and some lovely meaty cod-loin. It was served up in a couple of 'sharing' bowls so we could help ourselves to as much or as little as we liked. It looked appetising as I'd decorated it with a few pretty pink jumbo prawns, some hard-boiled egg quarters (dusted with paprika) and chopped coriander. So, it looked a treat (wish I'd remembered to take a photo before the troops dug in!), it was pretty healthy, and it tasted good too. Pudding? Nope! Not needed.

Sunday evening was lovely hubby's turn in the kitchen. He cooked us a real treat too - a wonderfully warming and satisfying chicken and tarragon casserole with lovely button mushrooms. He served it with swede and potato 'rustic' mash (i.e. left with some texture, not smoothed to the point of blandness) and a beautiful bowlful of steamed sweetheart cabbage. Gorgeous! Again, no pudding, but we did follow it with a bit of cheese and some crackers (er, and a glass of port), but didn't go mad with it.

Yep, we all ended up feeling pretty well fed, but it was a comfortable feeling rather than the groaning 'oooh, shouldn't have done that' sensation of yester year. It felt 'normal' somehow. Nice.

Amazingly, I got on the scales this morning expecting a small to moderate rise, but that hasn't happened.Rather a good start to the week, even if I did have to run through the rain for the bus.