The Christmas social...

...is coming to a venue near me on Tuesday evening. So am I prepared for this fun and festive foodie feast? You betcha!

I used to dread occasions like this and through the 'diet' years found it really hard to be moderate and sensible and to eat and drink responsibly. But, over the years I've sorted out a few strategies to help me. Hey, that grey hair has some use, huh?

One of these strategies is NOT to starve myself beforehand and go to the venue hungry - in the past I've tried that, saving myself for the evening, and I've decided it wasn't a good plan. It was actually a very bad move for me, as everything looks so tempting and tasty and seems like a good idea. Saying 'yes' in these circumstances is apparently a lot simpler than declining!

So, how to manage the food aspect? Well, Tuesday is one of my Oxfam volunteering days and I always take a pot of stuff with me for my late IF 'breakfast' meal.

This week will be no different, and my little box will contain chopped up bits of raw cauliflower stalk (from tonight's dinner), some small chunks of nice salty cheddar cheese and some lovely Turkish olives sprinkled with Palestinian zataar. I may add a cherry tomato or two if I feel like pushing the boat out. I usually also take a small pot of mixed nuts. That, being my usual fare, will keep me satisfied through the day so I won't go out for the evening hungry.

I try to remember to clean my teeth just before walking out of the door - residual minty toothpaste taste makes the first food/drink taste bleh, so slows down the start of things. Though I don't do it now, in the past I've found eating an apple about ten minutes before walking into the venue works too, and apples are a nice 'clean' food so there's no need to clean your teeth to get rid of odd bits that lodge between your gnashers after an apple!

The other food related tip is to look at (er, closely scrutinise!) the menu ahead of time. I go out having already chosen exactly what I am going to eat before setting foot into the joint. On that subject, two courses are quite enough - no need to go for three as I'd never do it any other time of year so why do it at Christmas. I also tell the organiser what I've chosen before I get there (helps them out in the melee), and carry a piece of paper to remind myself of my selections. This means a definite decision has been made - no room for shilly shallying, no indecision, no capitulating to anyone else's urging, no making impulsive choices. Just sensible choices that fit with the way I choose to eat.

If the set menu, and it's usually a set menu at Christmas, means my selection automatically comes with something I'd rather not eat (some form of potatoes, for example) there are a few options. Firstly, you could ask the kitchen to leave them off. The downside is that a lot of venues struggle with this at hectic times of year though - their aim is to serve as many (often not 100% sober) folk as possible in short order and they may not appreciate or be able to fulfill 'special requests'. No problem, when the dish arrives just push the offending articles to the side of the plate and leave them there. Not always easy though as they often look pretty yummy, so consider offering them to someone who doesn't eat kookily like me. In my experience there's usually a hungry man at hand who is all too happy to take them off my hands to pad out their meagre restaurant 'festive' portions. I often find the Brussels sprout haters are more than happy to swap my roasties for their little green horrors too.

Then there's the alcohol side of the equation. I'm not a great drinker usually, but it's easy to get carried away in company, especially when everyone else seems dead set on draining the bar dry and wants me to be 'sociable' and join in!

So, for one thing I always drink a large glass of water before leaving the house. OK, it means I'll doubtless need the loo on arrival, but it also means I'm not thirsty and can make a glass of white wine spritzer last a looong time. Note the spritzer bit - looks like you have a good large glass of a recognisable drink (which seems to be expected), but you can get away with a small serving of wine and lots of sparkling water or soda water. Then, when we sit down I always ask for a big jug of tap water to be brought to the table (and replenished regularly) and intersperse one glass of wine with several glasses of water. My bladder helps take care of the quantity imbibed!

The dessert course can be a bit of a trial (especially if, like me, you've just chosen a starter and main). But a coffee, black if you must, makes a perfectly acceptable substitute and there is rarely a problem sipping that while everyone else tucks into their sweet and sticky desserts.

A few other tips...

One is to wear something very close fitting (and definitely non-elasticated) at the waist. Amazing how conscious that makes you of the amount you consume.

Another is to be sociable - hey, this is Christmas after all! This means talking to people, getting up and moving around to speak to everyone, dancing (if necessary) and generally doing anything to minimise time and access to the food and drink.

Oh, and if your Christmas social happens to be a buffet... load your plate with salad (or the platter decorations) before anything else goes onto it. This usually tastes pretty good and leaves minimal room to load up with the stuff your own dietary preference views as 'naughty'.

Right, enough blether. Merry Christmas, chin, chin and onwards ever...

Picnic night

It was a pretty rough week last week, in a lot of ways, with some very, very difficult news coming in from my oldest friend (for her sake, and for her family's, I won't share this), a selection of getting older and housing-related worries, and a tad more of a variety of irritating people and issues at work than usual to test my patience and resolve.

Oh yes, especially fun was the start of the week when I was also bedevilled by another (actually, probably the same) little bug which settled itself into my sinuses making me headachy, with ringing ears, seriously grumpy and dog-tired - indeed so grotty did I feel that my rowing was knocked off the cards again!

Speaking of dogs, that darned black dog saw his chance and took it too, and he had a field day. The blighter was slavering in the sidelines and nipping at my heels all week. Tears and minor tantrums were a part of just about every day, and I'm aware that I've been very impatient and cranky.

It was oh so tempting at times to stuff down all those negative emotions with food (ah yes, vending machine crappy chocolate bars, I am looking at you!) or, in the evenings, with a large glass of something alcoholic from over the border. Thankfully I managed to avoid both bear-traps and I neither comfort ate nor turned into the friendly neighbourhood lush. Quite an achievement, this feels, to be honest.

So my darling lovely hubby and I decided that we needed to give ourselves a break. Friday night was going to be a stress free zone, and we'd have a picnic and a glass of wine, maybe even watch a film, and R-E-L-A-X!

So we did just that, and it was lovely. We had some leftover roast pork from earlier in the week, and I bought some rather nice cheeses (Fourme d'Ambert and a Spanish goat cheese) and some gorgeous tiny green olives. Chopped celery aplenty and a half strawberry (artfully fanned, thanks to a lesson from lovely hubby) to garnish and we settled down to a feast for the eyes and to the taste buds. We listened to some great music too, even though we didn't quite make the film part. It did us both a lot of good... as did the weekend.

Sometimes, in life, we just need to stop, take stock, appreciate the good things in life and remember how lucky we are (hey, we're back to my beloved Mum's blessings here).

So here we are on Monday. Onwards, with a lot more energy, ever...

Countdown...

...and I don't mean to the night that jolly old man in the red suit hops down your chimney. No, this is far more serious. It's countdown to the moment I enter the (rapidly approaching) danger zone! [oooh, cue the scary music]

This 'danger' comes in the form of three days of pre-Christmas festivities at work. A bit like London buses, they don't come around for ages then there's three turning up on the trot!

Tomorrow the whirl begins, with a departmental buffet lunch. Thankfully, this won't (shouldn't) be too difficult for this fat lass to navigate as it usually comprises wall-to-wall carbs, which are off my radar these days. I don't partake of the alcohol at lunchtime either or I'll doze over my keyboard in the afternoon (hey, the wine's not all that great anyhow), so the temptation to 'cheat' is also reduced by remaining 100% sober.

On Thursday things begin to get a little more tricky to handle. The afternoon will see me at my friend's funeral. This means I'm unlikely to be at my most rational/least emotional in the evening when I go out with one of my teams for a three course Christmas dinner... with wine. A 'no weight gain' strategy is in place, but it'll still need me to be vigilant.

Although I have chosen from the menu already, all the choices come with unwanted carbs which I will have to push to one side (er, this restaurant was NOT very accommodating so I don't think a return visit will be on the cards). This shouldn't be too much of a problem, except for those tempting sounding herb-crushed potatoes. Be strong, fat lass.

The third course is, of course, dessert and I've had to choose something sweet as they don't do a cheese plate (grrrrr!) on their Christmas menu. So, I've chosen something I don't actually like and already informed the organiser that 'my' dessert is up for grabs to the first bidder. How's that for planning ahead!

Then we get to Friday, and I'll be out for an extended (three courses again) lunch with another team, at a place I've been to before which I know serves wonderfully tempting food. Again, all the choices come with 'some' carbs, but mostly what's served on my plate will be OK (I just have to steer clear of the root vegetable selection). This place will (after a special request) provide cheese so my big test will be to keep my portion size to a 'reasonable' level... and my wine consuption to a sensible level too.

Oh yeah... then we have my sister and bro-in-law coming for the weekend... See what I mean about the danger zone? Watch this space (and the scales!).

Hungry Tuesday

Well, so much for the positivity folks! Oh boy, but this Bank Holiday didn't exactly go according to plan...

First off we didn't get to see our lovely new baby girl after all (a long and involved story... er, maybe later) and then having postponed that visit, unfortunately, we didn't get to go for our 'consolation prize' long walk either. It being a British Bank Holiday weekend, it rained so darned hard on Saturday that we'd have drowned before we'd got halfway there!

So, it wasn't quite what I'd expected, but I guess the upside is that the house is nice and clean and all the ironing is done, although heck, housework wasn't exactly what I wanted to be doing. Ho hum.

But the main reason I'm feeling stressed today (and thus starving of the hunger, I suspect) is that, as if there hasn't been enough, we've had some more bad and worrying news.

My poor cousin, who is in his mid-sixties (this is a cousin I've been close to for the whole of my life), underwent emergency repair surgery for an abdominal problem in the early hours of Saturday/Sunday (following 'routine' surgery earlier last week) and is still knocked out and in intensive care.

Yes, thinking logically, I know there's nothing I can do to change the outcome. I also 'know' he's in the right place, and I do have confidence that he is being looked after as well as he possibly could be, but I'm still scared for him. Really scared. He's not the fittest person around, even under normal circumstances, and this isn't an insignificant thing. Hence my fears - and I suppose some of this worry is selfishness as, in addition to my concerns for my cousin, his wife and their children, I really don't want to lose another precious family member.

So today, my concentration is not what it could be, my thoughts are casting around and I find I'm looking for something (anything) to eat once again. I've taken the precaution of sellotaping my 'snack' drawer shut so I can't easily open it to binge on nuts. My packed lunch (leftover chicken and bits 'n bobs) stayed intact throughout the morning... and I went for a very, very brisk walk at lunchtime to distract myself.

One way or another I need to keep these roiling emotions tamped down and stay in control. Onwards, ever...

Just a little update - I have successfully managed to avoid (ignore) the sweet Sicilian treats one of the team brought back from their holiday and left in our communal kitchen. They looked lovely too.

NSV

And, to me, it's a pretty major one! I'm one happy fat lass.

This morning, a very kind, thoughtful work colleague brought me a Cadbury's Creme Egg to celebrate Easter. Now I probably wouldn't go out and buy one of these myself, especially these days, and I haven't eaten one in years, but I do remember that I used to rather like them.

I was really touched as it was such a lovely thought, and quite unexpected. My reaction amazed me - I found myself unusually tempted and 'almost' began to unwrap it as, for a moment or two when he placed it gently on my desk, my usual low-carb aided resolve wobbled.

So, after he'd safely gone off to his own office, I gave myself a stern talking to. Then I stroked the egg in it's shiny tin-foil coat and wished it a fond farewell.

I did the decent thing and passed on my egg to another colleague who has two little girls at home. He had mentioned that the girls liked creme eggs just a day or so ago so I don't feel too guilty. Er, nor too much like a sugar pusher... although it did cross my mind that I might be doing the wrong thing here and I should have quietly binned it instead. However, the good point is that not a morsel passed my lips. Good fat lass!

Happy Easter, and onwards ever....

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!

Let them eat cake!

Oh dear, that's blown it. The fat lass has a confession to make. This isn't pretty, but the planets must have aligned along the wrong axis (or something similar) allowing that dreaded low-carber's nemesis, the cunning Christmas cake-monster, to trip me up.

It crept up on me in clandestine fashion and attacked stealthily, bushwhacking me the form of a beautiful, golden-brown, home-made cake, lovingly baked by a colleague's grandmother. An absolute delight, chock-full of fruit, nuts and candied peel and liberally laced with spices and alcohol, both looking and smelling EXACTLY like the ones my darling Mum used to bake. Deliciously un-iced too (heaven forbid!), it was even topped with perfectly placed whole almonds, wrapped in greaseproof paper and stored in a Quality Street tin, just like hers. Arrrgh! I found myself in serious peril, but managed to resist for two whole days as it grew smaller and smaller.

I thought I was safe. I admired it, and sniffed it, and looked longingly at it, and dreamed and drooled about it, but fended off the urge valiantly and didn't as much as nibble a crumb... er, until my Monday went seriously pear-shaped. And pear-shaped was definitely what happened. Although many of my colleagues have still not returned from the festive break, more than one of the individuals who have come back are... I'm going to be polite here... a pain in the posterior!

Not just demanding, not just cranky, not just depressed that Christmas is 'over' for another year, but also (in my humble opinion) pretty darned careless too. See I've spent much of Monday 'mending' and 're-mending' a piece of equipment, over and over again. I can't say I'm best pleased. I've had an engineer in too, fixing another item, and a variety of visitors, phone calls, emails and general 'crap' I could have done without and hadn't really anticipated... all whilst attempting to catch up on some financial stuff I'd failed to get finished before the holidays. Ho hum, such is life.

So the cake-monster lay quietly in wait and bided it's time before it ambuscaded me good and proper! By late afternoon, only one small sliver remained, and I could have resisted that without too much heartache... indeed, I did!

But the greaseproof paper was littered with the crumbled and crumbly remnants of the rest of the cake and this is what got to me. That linked straight in to a lovely memory of sharing similar delightful debris with my Mum at the end of a holiday, both of us picking up the sweet little bits by licking our fingers and dabbing them in the crumbs with glee to 'clean the plate'. And I'm sad and worrying about my lovely Mum at the moment which means that, pretty much, I'm fair game to be hijacked.

So that's what the fat lass did. Hoovered up every last one of those little tasty titbits. There could only have been about a tablespoon or so of 'bits', but every single scrap was near-pure carbohydrate. Half of me relished each and every mouthwatering morsel, while the rest of me chanted a litany of 'sod it!', 'sod it!', 'sod it!' as the carbs were consumed.

Seems that, just like Oscar Wilde wrote, I can resist anything except temptation. Not the finest start to 2013, eh?

Cake, anyone?

Nope. Not for me thanks.

That has been the story of the last week (thankfully!), even if I can't quite understand how things can possibly have changed in the fat lass to this extent. Amazing, isn't it.

But, before I start, I've had to perform a rather unsettling task this morning. For the last several years I've kept satisfying but fairly low-calorie snacks at work by my desk so, when I get tempted or hungry, there's 'something' to go to for a little nibble that wouldn't do too much harm.

Even during this low-carb switchover phase they've been sitting there quietly as a foodie security blanket, although I haven't touched them in weeks. Sadly though, these have definitely not been things I could even pretend are low-carb, so are not really a sensible option to have in my eye-line any longer. So today, my much loved and reliable staples, the good 'ole Grape Nuts and Shreddies, finally found a new home in the bin.

Might not sound like a big deal but, now I've done it, I feel a bit odd and ambivalent about this step - it's almost like I'm skating on rather thin ice without my 'standby' bits and bobs to hand. How stoopid is it to 'grieve' for a breakfast cereal, huh? But that's sort of how I feel.

Anyway, back to the main point and, yep, it's been a welter of wall to wall sweet treats at work over the last week. A name day last Monday, a birthday on Tuesday, a leaving do on Wednesday and a 'just because' day on Thursday (er, I think Friday just went right by me in a bit of a haze!) and, oh yeah, a meeting in London yesterday with a very fancy lunchtime spread.

On every occasion there was something sweet and edible on offer (from biscuits, to chocolates, to cakes, to cheesecake), most of which looked, at a minimum, 'very nice' to 'gorgeous', and any one of which were things I would previously have sampled (or at least wanted to) with delight.

For some odd reason though, none of these sweet treats has really 'drawn' me to it at all, and it's been easy to politely decline... every time. I'm hardly sure I can dare say this, but I seem to have lost the urge to eat anything like this... even that Polish cheesecake, which would have had me drooling with a vengeance not too long ago.

This period has even coincided with one of my 'oh Lord no, I'm hungry!' days, on Tuesday last week, (does anyone else get those days?) and I still didn't say yes. Could it be the low-carb eating 'switching' something off in me? To be honest, I just don't know.

So, my question is this. Is there truly something in what I've read (but dismissed pretty cynically) about the 'addictive' nature of sugars? Is that what's going on here? Have I, because of the dietary changes we've made, actually 'quit the habit' as it were? What's more, can I have even 'had' the habit (given that I've always said I'm more of a savouries type) and not known it?

The jury is out ladies and gentlemen. I can't decide and a quite big part of me is still pooh-poohing the whole idea. But...? Maybe... just maybe...?

OK, enough! I'm just going to be grateful and hope this lasts. Onwards ever...

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...

Food, festivities and coping strategies

Ooooh, it's that wondrous time of year again. The eat, drink and be merry brigade are getting into full swing and exhortations to have 'just a small mince pie' are coming along thick and fast. However's a fat lass to cope, eh?

Well, I never was a boy scout (for some fairly self-evident anatomical reasons) but, these days, I do believe in 'being prepared'!

In the bad old days, this joyous season would begin and, well in advance of any actual event, my inner child would excitedly plan what she was going to be able eat, and drink, and treat herself with, and induldge in. She looked forward to all the foodie delights she could imagine (oooh - crisps, little savoury pies, sherry, mixed nuts and a whole tin of Quality Street to nibble - wheeee!). She'd also very carefully avoid even the slightest consideration of potential horrors to come in the New Year, when the scales reported just how enthusiastically she'd embraced the festivities. After all, this was Christmas!

Not any longer! I've finally learned that the 'moment on the lips, lifetime on the hips' statement can and does apply to me too, not just to a nebulous 'someone else'. I also keep reminding myself of just how hard I've had to work to claw my way down to my current weight from my previous unhappy obesity.

So, before the season gets fully under way, a Baldrick-style cunning plan is required, and it has to have several components...

First is that whole 'awareness' thing.

It's oh so important to really 'think' about what is on offer. Whatever it is, what might the benefits of consuming it be? They might be nutritional I guess, but more often they can be social - fitting in with a peer group, e.g. workmates, can be pretty important. But.... don't forget - 'social compliance' can still be achieved, you can just choose your own terms.

Benefits are only one thing though, The other side of the golden foil-wrapped chocolate coin is the downside. So, cultivating a keen awareness of just how many calories there can be in the usual Christmas offerings can really help. An example - that single 'small mince pie' can deliver a whopping 260 calories! (some of these derive from up to 40g of sugars.and nearly 9g of fat)... and that's before we even get to the brandy butter! And as to some of the other common seasonal specialities - be prepared ahead of time. Look 'em up.

Then there's excuses, excuses! With those downsides in mind, I also get my 'oh, no I couldn't' phrases off-pat and well practiced in advance. It's so much easier that way than getting caught on the hop, completely unprepared. The little excuses can vary, from 'oh how lovely, but I've only just eaten' to 'I'd love to join you in a glass, but I'm driving', to... well, I'm sure you can come up with a few more.

So you find that you can't avoid an event based around food? Well, another thing I try to do, when I know about it in advance, is to reduce the temptation to stuff by not arriving at Christmas 'do's hungry. An apple and a glass of water about half an hour before I set off can reap rewards!

Then, once I set eyes upon the tasty treats on offer at the inevitable buffet, I employ another little strategy. I try to pile up my plate with the veggie decorations (e.g. salad leaves) first, to leave less room for the calorific stuff. There's no need to refuse absolutely everything but, for keeping those portions well under control, this is a big, big help.

And if, like this week, it happens to be a sit down multi-course meal, I'll adjust what I eat for the rest of the day (or days either side). A smaller breakfast and minimalist lunch, and a brisk walk wherever possible, will all help a bit.

This one's not the easiest thing for me to do but... socialising a lot and engaging in witty conversation to keep my mouth and brain occupied, and to cut down the available time for indulging myself, is on the cards too. Dance, if there's a chance to do so, fat lass. Enjoy that party in a positive way. This is not a time to sit in the corner and act the wallflower.

Something I've been told but not consciously tried out yet (although this week will see the trial!), is to wear something which is just on the fringes of uncomfortably tight around the middle. That way you should be less inclined to fill your tummy with unnecessary food and drink and less likely to sit down and munch (keeping moving, even if just a little, is a good thing). To this end, I'll be wearing a velvet dress with a closely-fitting boned (not stretchy!) bodice later this week.

So the season will be jolly and I'll still enjoy it. I won't go mad and I will try to help myself  wherever I can. This January (unlike some previous ones) may not see the screams and howls of absolute horror when I step onto the dreaded scale, but if I do still put on a pound or two, so be it. One thing I do know now - I'm quite determined that it won't stay there for long!

Ups and downs

That's ups and downs in all sorts of ways!  Emotionally, in health terms, and (of course) in weight!

The last few weeks have been something of a challenge, just as I'd expected they would be. In some ways, they've been even more difficult than I thought possible. Looking after my darling lovely hubby following his operation was desperately hard. Not because of him... no way!... but because I've felt so damned helpless.

I won't go into detail, but he's had a tough time and I'd have happily cut off my arm with a blunt penknife if it would only make things easier for him. Unfortunately, there's been nothing much that I've been able to do, in a practical way, to make life better/more comfortable for him. Just be there, do what I can and then go hide and cry in private.

The worst part is over, thank heavens, although he still has some minor complications to contend with and will be off work for a while longer yet. I am back in the saddle at work but not finding it easy as I feel I 'ought' to still be at home taking care of him. Ooooh, those 'oughts'. Guilt trips 'r' us!

And like all of those guilt-laden times, the emotions (coupled with worry) can get the better of you and start to drive behaviour. Let's just say that exercise, never mind about kicking things up a notch, did not go well at all.

Most of the days I spent at home (and much of the nights) was a whirlwind of the various meds (and isn't timing everything too), cooking, cleaning, little jobs to do, pillow fluffing, companionship and tea & sympathy, so my planned time on the rower dropped right off the priority list. Getting outside for life's essentials was squeezed into as short a time as possible so he wouldn't be left alone, so walking was off the cards too. To be frank, sleepless nights meant I didn't have a whole lot of energy anyway. Still don't, for that matter.

Food intake was OK while he wasn't interested or have an appetite, so I didn't eat much either, but it went a tad haywire once I started trying to tempt him into eating a bit more for the sake of him healing. Yes it was all 'good' food, but guess who disposed of the leftovers!

Well, the weight dropped off me for the first few days, and I saw 59kg again for an all too brief moment, but then it soon went back on again. Now we're over the worst I've evened out at 62kg, not too drastic but not really where I want to be. And like Steve has mentioned at 'Log My Loss', oh boy am I ever out of shape. I look and feel flabby, not trim. Think not so much racehorse as carthorse!

Ah well, back to the drawing board for the fat lass. I've made a start and am bringing chopped veggies with a yoghurt dip for lunches. I'm making an effort to restrain (and re-train) my appetite and giving myself smaller portions of an evening. This seems to be going OK.

I'm walking every day (which helps but isn't truly the answer, I know) and when I get a little more free time, I'll step it up with some additional exercise. If my darling's meds (which I have to administer) are reduced after our next hospital visit (which I really hope will be the case) I'll be back on the rower in the mornings next week.

I'm not giving up. I'll keep on keeping on, and I will get back to having more love per square inch!

Back to working...

Yep, that's 'back to' in the employment sense and also in the weight loss sense. Happy New Year, folks.

Although the festive season wasn't particularly damaging and didn't add to my personal blubber collection this year (the scales are still fine, which is a real bonus and more than I deserve), I feel sort of run down and a bit out of condition and flabby.

To be fair, I didn't get the decent exercise I'd liked to have had during the holidays. I'm afraid all my plans for daily romantic walks in the snow with lovely hubby were somewhat trashed, what with him being ill. The walks I did have, or should that be slides and slithers, were not all that much fun (mostly shopping trips), even though they did keep me moving a bit. What between our place and my poor Mum's, lots of housework got done though, and every little does help.

Overslept a bit this morning (it was not a good night at all!) so a lovely bowl of porridge was right off the menu. A slice of seedy bread with low-fat Philly 'cheese' (OK, some packaged whitish stuff purporting to be cheese) had to do, rapidly washed down with a quick cuppa before dashing off to catch the bus. Made it. Phew!

My customary morning walk to work after the bus journey was nice (no, I didn't get to see the eclipse), but then it's been absolutely manic this morning so nothing at all at coffee break - not even a drink :-( That is going to have to change! 

Thankfully, a very welcome stop for lunch came at last, albeit working at my desk while it was munched. An Ainsley Harriott Szechuan Hot & Sour Cup Soup (pretty tasty for packaged stuff, warming and not at all bad at just 57 calories), a Pink Lady apple, which was gorgeous, and a small scraping of Greek yoghurt (that was the last smidgen in the pot). Shame I don't have time for a walk today but tomorrow... it's a sure thing.

I will probably have some pomelo mid-afternoon, then tonight will be home-made cauliflower soup and some bread and, probably, a bit of fruit.

It may sound funny but, after managing to avoid it over the holidays, it would be all too easy to start putting weight on right now. Several people have brought leftover Christmas treats in to share and it is tempting ('specially those delicious looking Belgian chocolates), but that isn't the way I want to start this new year.

No, I want to make a sensible start and get my motivation humming again. The rower will be my next add-in, then the abs work, and then...who knows, but it'll be something to move me forward!

Feeling very sheepish and embarassed

Oh well, I suppose I'd better get this over with. It's confession time. Hmmm, the fact that I haven't been here probably suggested that things were not altogether great in weight loss land, eh?

Currently, I am very unhappy with myself and that is putting it as politely as I can. Somehow I seem to have forgotten about taking care of 'me' and have been back to my old foolish ways. OK, it isn't a complete, unmitigated disaster but it is still not really what I would like to be in a position to report. In the last few weeks (since I disappeared off the radar, I guess), I've let my 'sensible' self be tempted into indolence. I have hopped completely off the steep and rocky uphill road to progress and wandered merrily along the pretty, downhill, easy life lanes (er, actually it's rather more like gain lanes) .

It started on our holiday, which was absolutely lovely, when I was not exactly 'good' in terms of what I ate. Mildly careful, maybe, but not really good and certainly not eating in weight loss mode. I only gained a little weight at that stage though and, foolishly, thought I would easily get that shifted. I can almost hear someone thinking 'yeah, right!'.

Problem is, since we've been home I have been extremely busy (work and community things going on seemingly constantly) and I've also been fairly stressed for various reasons so I haven't focused on eating sensibly or in small portions (quite the opposite!) or on doing any exercise other than walking. I haven't been mindful. A rather poor excuse, all this is, but it's the only one I have.

The stoopidest thing of all is that I 'know' doing this will mean I gain weight and lose tone. I can also, sadly, report that during this period of doing the wrong thing rather than the right I haven't felt fit, or strong, or healthy, or energetic, or good about myself. When I'm doing the right thing, I do!

The result was that my weight drifted it's way all the way back up to 61kg and I look flabbier. So what's the big deal? Much as I hate to admit it, that's exactly where I was at the end of September when I issued myself a challenge to get down to 57kg by 15th November. Whilst I've managed to get about a kilo of that gain shifted, with five days to go I think it is pretty clear that this is not now a realistic goal unless I surgically remove one leg!

There's been a lot of grouching and kicking of posteriors in the last day or two. Why on earth, I kept asking, do I do this to myself time and time again. Then I read something that Diana wrote a few days ago which really made me think. I'm a fair way convinced that what she talks about is part of my problem too. That is my weight loss expectations v. reality. I think I've been struggling to come to terms with the fact that my magic 'weight loss' bullet isn't quite a shiny as I'd hoped it would be and, while there have been lots of positives and benefits (and there truly have), shedding flab doesn't solve everything and transform life into the picture perfect existence I think I'd half hoped for. Life still steamrollers us all sometimes, and I need to look for alternative methods to deal with my stresses and worries, whilst continuing to take care of 'me' properly.

Right now though, I need to get my head on straight and claw my way back down the numbers again... as a start, towards the 59kg I'd just managed to achieve before we went away... and then keep on going and get to that target 57kg. Focus fat lass!

Holding on in there

Never mind the New Year's resolution... I made myself a Christmas promise this year. So, I have been, still am, and will keep on making a really big effort not to let the seasonal eating (or offers of a glass or two of sherry!) overwhelm me and to keep my body moving - walking as much as the snow and ice will allow me to do. So far I seem to be doing reasonably well and went walking (OK, slithering) both yesterday morning and at lunchtime, and again today.

So far, so good and those lovely scales have settled back down under the milestone ten stone mark again. I have to say I am really, really pleased about that. In fact, I'm still dancing on air!

The small loss which puts me back to the right side of 'that mark' has been made a little easier by a cancelled weekend away asthe delightfully pretty, but not particularly helpful snowy weather rather got in the way of our travel plans! But, however disappointing, this meant we ate at home and I could control exactly what ended up on my plate - always a good move. Sadly, it means that the present shopping isn't done with yet and a mild but growing case of Yuletide panic is beginning to emerge.

I am now looking firmly forward to getting the annual festivities out of the way (ungrateful Scrooge-like mare that I am) and planning ahead to 2010 and getting back to salsacise and the gym. This is desperately needed to address some of the problems of the flabby belly and other bits! I really do need to firm things up a bit. Clothed, I look pretty reasonable for a fifty year old ex-fat lass, unclothed I rather remind myself of this...!

And yes, I know my belly won't ever go away completely and be smoothly flat. I won't ever look like those girls in bikini ads. Well, not without the intervention of a gowned man with a scalpel and, being a confirmed coward, I cannot contemplate that! It would be unrealistic of me to think it would as I've always had my share of the family protruding tummy. I remember being told it was 'puppy fat' when I was a teenager and my Dad used to affectionately call my Mum 'Pud' because she always had 'the tummy', however slim and elegant she was (and she was!).

On the positive side, I tried on a lovely deep red courduroy size ten (UK) skirt yesterday and it fitted me. It was cut for someone who did indeed sport a nice flat belly so was a bit too 'clingy' on the belly to wear and feel great (although the waistband wasn't tight), but trying a size ten was still a nice boost to my self esteem. Quite a Christmas present, in fact.

Good luck to all over this festive period. Hope Santa is kind and leaves those extra lbs out of the stocking!

Back to normal...

Well, with Monday's dual Christmas extravaganza mealtime specials now over (phew!), it was... daytime good... evening not so good.

After a fairly sensible lunch, I didn't eat terribly badly at night either and didn't drink too much... unlike certain individuals, who were sporting rather sore heads the next day. My starter (smoked mackerel pate and watercress salad) and main course (baked fish & steamed veg) were fine. I left food on my plate for both these courses and managed to avoid a sweet, cream-filled pudding. So far, so good. Unfortunately, the Stilton on that cheese board tripped me up, she grins sheepishly. Thankfully, I didn't spread butter on the oatcakes to compound my sins!

But hey, if you believe in fate, or karma, or whatever, I got my cheese-laden comeuppance pretty fast. Indigestion meant I had a really rotten night with little sleep (there are some nights when I just love Rennies!). Even the following day I felt pretty uncomfortable in and around the vicinity of the belly, if you get my drift. It certainly felt like I overate (bloat, bloat), or ate the wrong stuff, which I guess is about right.

I took it easy on the food the next day and things seem to be back to normal today. The next meal out is Friday (and I've had to say a firm, if regretful, 'no' to lunch that day too!) so I need to stay focused. Think hard about what I'm going to eat at the event (pooh - can't decide beforehand with this one) and also for the rest of the week. Just as important is to keep myself as active as possible.

It isn't PC to say this, but I'm already getting just a wee bit tired of this whole festive season, and hate the feeling of obligation. Feeling 'obliged' to be cheery and sociable and go out to eat. I'd really prefer to be indoors in the warm, savouring a lovely hot bowl of lovely hubby's veggie soup and mutter 'bah, humbug' to myself.

Ah well. Once the season comes to an end I can breathe a sigh of relief and hang up my posh frock for a while.

One big positive. Walking is still going well with around 14,000 steps each day so far this week.

A pre-Christmas plan

I must confess I'm not in a great frame of mind at the moment. My motivation has seriously flagged and I'm permanently tired. Tired of thinking about every darned thing I eat, tired of portion control, tired of making an effort every day, tired of feeling stuck, tired of hitting obstacle after obstacle. Also bodily tired so that exercise seems a big chore, not a pleasure - even my walks. OK, yeah, I know, I'm still recovering from the blasted bugs 'n drugs (antibiotics are wonderful things... mostly!) but things just do not feel positive and rosy right now.

So, when I looked at our social diary a couple of nights ago my heart sank. In the remaining weeks before we even reach the big day I am booked to eat meals away from home, mosty of the 'festive' variety, on no less than five occasions!

My first thoughts went something along the lines of "What the hell? Oh dammit, that's me sunk, then!". I started off thinking I could never lose weight in the next few weeks and even keeping to my present weight, without a significant gain, would be one heck of a challenge. I was especially unhappy with this having only just clawed my way back down to my pre-holiday weight of 65kg. My enthusiasm for the next few weeks is not exactly high.

But, when I stopped hyperventilating and saying 'poor me', and let a teensy bit of logic creep into my internal conversation, I decided it was time for a plan. With a plan, I stand a chance. Without one? Yep - I'm sunk!

Stage one is to address the alcohol issue. For this, minimalism is the only way to go. Avoiding alcoholic drinks altogether is rather unrealistic in the run up to Chrismas, so let's adjust my expectations. Ask for nice fresh jugs of water at every possible occasion and restraint, restraint, restraint with the booze. My plan is to allow myself one drink on each occasion and muster the willpower to say no to a second. A small dry white wine and soda isn't too bad, considering the alternatives, and I like it. It's a long drink that can be made to last, so stick to that and avoid more. That means a smile and a firm 'no' to the offer of 'just a small top-up', no matter how persistent the person with the bottle. Given my patience at the moment, restraint may also mean not telling that person to *** off!

For those restaurant meals where I have to choose my food ahead of time, yes it's going to be several courses, but at least it's 'relatively' simple to handle, provided I make sensible decisons up front. Choose the healthiest things on the menu while I'm in a good frame of mind and tell the organisers my choices there and then. Then I'm committed and only (only!) have to restrain my piggish tendencies when the portions, and that blasted bread basket, are presented to me on the night. A small, healthy snack a little while before the meal will help with this (see below).

For those restaurant meals where I'm put right on the spot to choose from the menu when we sit at the table things get a wee bit more tricky. Eating an apple half an hour beforehand will help, so I'm not faced with a menu filled with tempting treats when I'm ravenous. I need to think calmly and clearly and not be rushed into making a bad choice. That means thinking carefully about what is likely to go into the dishes on offer and focus in on which ones are definitely 'bad news'. Avoid those at all costs and look out for grilled or baked and 'dry' dishes with no or minimal sauces. If choices are limited and the only possible 'something' has a sauce - ask for it on the side.

For the potential minefield of 'at home with...' meals, make 'portion control' my mantra. Keep that apple handy beforehand. Eat the veggies aplenty to fill up with (quick note to hosts - please don't slather vegetables in butter!). If I can serve myself, take small amounts and spread them across my plate to look as though I have taken a good helping. If I'm served, stress how much I enjoy vegetables and how delicious the veg looks - even if it's actually sad and overcooked.

The buffets are probably going to be my biggest challenge but even they can be managed with a little good sense. Crudites are great without the mayo-laden dips which I hate in any case. The usual leafy decoration can be good too, and fills holes on the plate. Tartlets (or anything with pastry, cheese and butter) and deep-fried nibbles are to be steered well clear of, but some cold sliced meats can make a plate look nicely laden without too many down-sides. Easy on the nuts and crisps, girl!

At this time of year I thank my lucky stars that I'm not as keen as some of my friends are on the gooey, sticky and often cream-doused pies, puddings and cakes which loom as traps for the weight conscious. Cheeses and chocolates are another matter but moderation 'should' allow me to get to January without turning into the Goodyear blimp!

And remember - there may be the aforementioned meal 'hurdles' to overcome before Christmas, but there are lots of days in between to practice 'fruit only' days or Steve's semi-fasting (thanks Steve - I'm forever in your debt for this). And the potential for taking exercise should not affected by the meals - all are evening events so I have the whole rest of each day to keep my flabby ass moving. C'mon fat lass - stick with the plan and this New Year could be a time to dance with joy, not cringe in embarrassment.

Stuck in the doldrums

That goes pretty much equally for mood, attitude, motivation, food choices, exercise and... of course... the weight!

Hmmm, my last post about my experiences at the surgery wasn't all that positive, was it. Funny, you wouldn't think one small episode (and hardly a very important one in the great scheme of things) could shift my attitude to so far down in the dumps that I am fighting a constant uphilll battle to get out again... but it seems to have done just that.

So, about a week on from the last time I wrote anything at all I'm not happy to say I'm still struggling - a lot. Although I have been trying to kick myself in the pants (not easy, I find you need to be a contortionist!) and get back to doing my best, the results have been a bit mixed to say the least.

My mood has vacillated between one stinking swamp and another, with just brief moments of the positive 'me' in there somewhere. Seems like I just about manage to haul myself out of one morass and clean up my act when along comes another thing, usually fairly minor, to tip me back into another patch of muddy, sticky, mental quicksand.

Exercise has been a similarly fluctuating story. I'm loving the salsacise class (last night was a lot of fun), but that gotcha blood-circulating 'high' isn't staying with me and I haven't been anywhere near the gym - no matter how many times I've planned it. Thank goodness I'm still walking, albeit a little reluctantly, but the rowing has completely slipped. I'm doing my 'clams' but not the other physio stuff I should be.

What the heck is wrong with me? Aside from being a real moaning minnie, that is.

It's no excuse but I'm almost always tired lately (really think I need our fast-approaching holiday!) and I seem to be fighting a slight cold. Not enough to say I feel ill, but mildly headachy and a little bit sniffy - enough to describe myself as feeling under the weather. Shame it hasn't put me off my food.

In fact, rather unusually for me, I'm feeling hungry (make that ravenous) an awful lot of the time and my standby of fresh fruit isn't satisfying me like it normally does. Hide those carbs, there's a starving fat lass about! As hard as I work at being good on the food front, along keeps coming another 'little treat' to trip me up. Whoa - where did my willpower go? If anyone has seen it, please send it on home.

Derailed

In truth, this isn't a minor, accidental derailment. It's been more like a deliberate step off the rails, closely followed by turning around and determinedly marching back along the tracks in the wrong direction. I am, needless to say, disgusted with myself!

For one brief moment, on Friday morning, my weight hovered at 66kg and I had reached a 'normal' BMI. I was so, so pleased and told lovely hubby about it in delight. What happened next is as inexplicable as it is inexcusable. I embarked on a complete indulge-a-thon which lasted until last night!

It wasn't a good day on Friday - can't quite put a finger on exactly why (read 'work stress' here) but I was frustrated, down and miserable by the middle of the day. So what did I do? I hit the carbs - a large bowl of crunchy cereal for lunch (hey! it's only muesli, so it's healthy, right?). In itself, that would probably have been OK. But, I then proceeded to eat a big plate of spaghetti bolognese in the evening. Oh yes, and drank half a bottle of red wine. I slept badly (no surprise there then!), wasn't pleased with myself and vowed to do better on Saturday.

And indeed I did. I went several stages 'better' and not only ate pre-prepared sandwiches (note the plural) for lunch but consumed the whole of a stodgy, oily restaurant portion of truly awful paella in the evening, with a chunk of ciabatta. Followed... wait for it... by cheesecake and half a bag of toffee popcorn whilst watching a film! Oh yes, and that pint of beer too. Once again, I slept badly.

Sunday has to be better, right? Wrong! Breakfast was fine, but we went out and a large fruit scone caught my eye mid-morning. Lunch was a 'healthy' pre-prepared pot of vegetable chilli. Chilli, you say? Then why was it so utterly bland that it needed a whole teaspoon of Louisiana hot sauce to make it taste of anything resembling chilli?

Utterly unsatisfied I succumbed to a glass of sherry and the siren call of the Sunday supplement recipe section. Oh yes, off we trekked to the supermarket to buy the ingredients and made those blasted three-cheese muffins! Thank goodness they turned out so badly that I only ate one of them (the rest are to be fed to the poor old ducks this lunchtime). Well, I say only one, but there was the nibbling (cheese!) during the preparation, and the bowl licking - not good. As if this wasn't enough, we'd put barbecue chicken wings in the oven - enough for dinner last night and lunch today... and scoffed the lot!

Notice a pattern here? No fresh produce at all, but lots of pre-prepared, shop-bought or 'restaurant' rubbish instead. Some of it low on flavour and most not, in any way, actually satisfying. Even the things we did prepare ourselves were high in carbs, fats and salt. Alcohol... every night. Overeating in general. Is it, then, any wonder that my weight has shot up to 67.5kg again and I feel like death warmed over this morning.

What I cannot understand is why. Why did I do this at all and, worse, why when I actually recognised my appallingly poor behaviour did I not stop right there! Oh well, have wasted enough time cursing roundly and resigned myself to that fact that I cannot change the past few days. Time to pick myself up, dust myself down and...

Let's get philosophical

What's prompted this? Well, a none too great 'day at the office, dear' means that I'm feeling stressed and unhappy. A problem not of my making, but I've ended up dealing with the fallout! What? But it isn't even Monday! Ho hum, some days it just feels like overload 'r us here.

For the philosophy part, let's take good old Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and his rainy day blues poem, with that oft-quoted line "Into each life a little rain must fall". I'm sure you know the one.

It's not really a quote about how miserable life is though. No, it has more of a 'c'mon old son, get a grip' sentiment. Somewhere in the poem Longfellow reminds us that although there may be dark clouds above us, the sun is still shining just behind them. It's up to us to remember that.

So, illegitimi non carborundum! I'm not going to let this temporary feeling of anger/misery/irritation or whatever it is lead me down the slippery path to comfort food. No siree! I may be thinking 'chocolate' right now, but I'm going to nibble healthy fruit and go out into the beautiful sunshine and walk away those blues.

Keep that motivation going, fat lass!

Random thoughts

The rowing is going pretty well, even if I'm not quite at the stage where I'm bouncing out of bed in the morning in my enthusiasm to get at it. It's hard, sometimes, when the alarm goes off at 5 a.m.! I've built up to 250 strokes (by yesterday) and it's been no real problem - even the breathing isn't bad. The thigh muscles tell me I'm working but the knee seems quite happy, so far, as does the back. With luck, I should be up to 300 by the end of this week. Then next week... maybe back to my old 350 strokes a day? I just need to keep it up and not give in to that temptation to just have five more minutes in bed.

Speaking of temptation, my weight has gone up and I'm not happy with myself because it's all my own fault. We had a lovely weekend and finally had our picnic (in fact, two picnics), but I overate and my choices could have been a lot better. There seems to be a pattern here, not just over the weekend, and I'm obviously not keeping to a sensible limit for calorie intake. I've been deluding myself when I 'think' I'm being fairly good, but really letting a few too many 'little treats' creep back into my days. That's got to stop!

A different topic but just as important, if not more so, is that the support you get from your loved ones is wonderful thing, isn't it. I think I am one really, really lucky fat lass. It may sound trite, but I can't believe how different things are now I have my lovely hubby. He's never made me feel guilty about being fat, always thought I was beautiful (he is short sighted though, tee hee) and does so much to help me. Not wanting to criticise my ex, but my previous experience was not like this at all. Likewise my mum and sister are real friends - and I'd choose them for my friends even if they weren't my family.

Someone I know asked me why I still call myself the fat lass when I've lost about a third of my original body weight and look (in her words, not mine) so slim. Put me on the spot a bit to be honest. Hmmm, good question, I thought, so how to answer it?

Well to begin with, to me, that's what I still am - a fat lass.

No two ways around it, I'm definitely not a skinny minnie. OK, I'm no longer very obese (thanks be!). I'm no longer 'merely', if one can say that, obese. I'm no longer even at the high end of the overweight band. All that is well and good, and I'm very proud that I can say it. But, with a BMI over 25, I am still firmly in the 'overweight' category. What's more, I really don't want to stay where I am at the moment.

So, as to calling myself 'fat lass', I guess when I look in a mirror I see the remaining flubbery bits. Hmmmm, that blobby belly, those podgy knees and the bat-wing upper arms are what my eyes rest on. While, yes, the reflection looks a whole lot better than it used to, there is still a long way to go before I could feel content. People who know me probably focus on the 'before and after' difference and may not realise that there is still mileage in my journey, or understand how important it is that I don't just rest on my laurels.

Then there's that fear factor. The fear that if I let myself start to believe I look anywhere near normal, I'll lose the focus and the drive to keep making changes and sustain the good things I have managed to achieve. And, as posts over the last few months will confirm, keeping up the motivation is something I've been struggling with.

Even worse, I may slip back into the really bad old ways and gain weight (er, see above), a lot of weight, in the way I've gained whilst being in total denial so many times in the past. Oh God, the lose/gain cycle of those endless quick fix diets! That's especially pertinent at the moment as things are a wee bit stressful and are likely to remain that way for some time yet. In the past, my response to stress has been to eat and gain weight!

On a happier note, I love this time of year. Why? Well, we are heading into summer when the first lovely fresh fruits from local sources start to come into season. I've been munching Spanish strawberries but soon the English ones will arrive (assuming we have some more sunshine). Call me biased if you will, but they are simply the best - smaller they may be, but the flavour is fantastic. Lovely fresh salads also become much more appealing, and being out and about in sunshine makes me more likely to be active. I'm even considering buying a bathing costume for this summer (even if this does mean showing off my fat bits) - beached whales 'r us?

And another thing to look forward to - I'm meeting a dear friend tonight who I haven't seen in a long time. We sort of lost touch, then caught up with one another again via the wondrous world-wide web just before Christmas. Tonight we get to catch up for real and I'm so looking forward to seeing her in just a few hours time.