A line in the sand...

I said I'd been doing a lot of thinking lately. Well, OK, that's done it. I've set myself some new targets and re-drawn my very own 'do not cross' line.

What's prompted this, you may ask. Well, before I explain, I want to reiterate that I'm really pleased to be (and remain) a whole lot slimmer and healthier than I used to be, with all the fringe benefits which come along with this. However, for a while now I've been less than ecstatic with the finer details of the way I look.

Ungrateful? Probably, and I'm a tiny bit ashamed to be looking at 'vanity' issues here, but it is part of who I am and I can't push it to the back of my mind any longer.

Over the last year or so I have sort of roughly 'maintained' my current level of weight loss, albeit whilst not actually intending to. I've been fairly happy, but fooled myself that I was still in weight loss mode. I certainly became much less focused and can see now that I wasn't truly serious about it.

My weight has cycled up and down between 60kg and 62kg or thereabouts for quite a long time. But, even at the lower end of the range and when I'm being far more diligent about the abs exercises than I've been recently, I've still got a noticeable belly. I may have mentioned it once or twice before... it's not too obvious most of the time (in clothes, anyhow) but I can't say I love it.

This is my delightful flappy extra bit where the excess skin flap from being obese for years is left behind. It's the place where much of the remainder of my fat hangs out (and, oh yes, I do mean 'hang'). What's more, when I gain weight, it hits here first.

To be frank, no matter how diligent I do get with the abs work, this flab-filled flap resides on top of whatever muscle I develop. It just ain't going to go away by exercise alone, even if the underlying structure is held in a teensy bit more. The fat lass has been gently deluding herself over this, methinks. It will only actually be diminished by my losing, shedding, shrinking, call it what you will, further amounts of the fat inside it. Don't worry, I'm under no illusions here - I do know that I'll always have the skin flap, unless I resort to surgery. I would just like it to bother me less.

Add to this that I've recently been looking into a number of models for calculating the 'ideal' weight range for a woman of my age, frame and height. Oooh dear - that was a bit of a stopper!

Even though I'm sitting somewhere near the middle of the 'normal' BMI banding, feeling fairly virtuous that this was a pretty darned 'good' place to be, the general consensus from these models (including Devine's and Robinson's) seems to be that I should actually weigh somewhere between 55kg and 58kg. In case the penny hasn't dropped, that is a whole big chunk less than I weigh right now. Kind of knocks the wind out of one's sails. It's certainly made me sit back and think.

Trouble is, I kind of thought I'd already gone far enough. Having lost around six and a half stone since I first started my lifestyle changes (not diet!), I haven't felt that I really want (or 'ought') to lose a significant amount more. But where does this (rather unscientific) decision stem from and why should I have thought this way?

I wonder if, subconsciously, I've been worried in case it makes me look old(er!) and haggard, maybe, or if I'm scared to get obsessive about the numbers on the scale and head towards 'too skinny' territory. I really don't want to end up being bony and emaciated or (worse!) unhealthy. By this, I mean like some (or do I mean many?) female 'celebrities' - women like Mrs Beckham who, slender as she undoubtedly is, looks drawn, permanently ill-nourished and dissatisfied. Sorry, but she and her ilk are no role models for me. I'm certainly not driven to get into the next clothes size down either as I'm fairly content where I am. I like the clothes I wear these days, and it's a very big thing for me to be able to say that. You heard it here - the fat lass likes dresses!

But maybe I could do with losing a bit more? If that weight loss includes at least some of the belly fat and I get my scales to move downwards, say to around the 57kg mark (c.9 stone), as opposed to where I am now, maybe the belly would be significantly less noticeable or perhaps I would just feel more comfortable with it.

OK, deep breath time. Is this realistic? Or, even if it's possible, is it sustainable? Hmmm, do you know, I'm not really sure yet.

Worth a shot though? Yes, I guess it might be.

So it looks as though my old get on the scales 'do something!' line may have been set a bit too high. It's been at 62kg (er, actually 63kg was the absolute screaming horrors mark), but perhaps it's about time it was re-drawn a bit further down.

By adjusting food and portions I'm already starting to see some pounds come off. Increasing the exercise should help too, so I'm going to mentally reset my line to 58kg... and see
a) what I can do about getting there  (I'm currently at 60kg)
b) what I can do about getting my weight a kilo or so below that line
and
c) what I can do about keeping it there

So I now have a clearly measurable target. I want to lose around 3kg from where I am now - that's c.6-7 pounds. Let's set myself a time-scale to work to. Going sure but steady I think that sort of loss 'should' be achieveable over about a six week period and that would take me to mid-October.

Right, roll up those sleeves. It's time for the fat lass to step up to the plate! ... or should that be step 'away' from the plate?

Gratitude

Having read Diane's post yesterday with the image of the disability scooter, I thought long and hard about where I might be today had I not taken the first step to (permanent) weight loss back in 2007. It was scary.

I'm no longer quite in the first flush of youth! Certain bits of me, notably knees and lower back, no longer function quite as freely as they did when I was a teenager. However, they still work pretty darned well and generally give me only minimal discomfort. What's more, that level of discomfort is directly proportional to the exercise I take. Little exercise = more pain, regular exercise = little to no pain.

These days, I cannot begin to imagine what my life would be like now if I still carried something over 90 extra pounds of weight. Hell, but that disability scooter sounds like a real possibility.

Today's 'me' loves to walk every day, not only for the fresh air and exercise but for the space it gives me to think about things that happen in life. I'd go as far as to say it keeps me sane, sometimes. With the extra weight, I couldn't do much walking, let alone enjoy it.

Today's 'me' loves not being breathless, gasping at the slightest exertion. My asthma, even given a slight (stress related) recurrence recently, is pretty much under control. I'm not sure just how bad it would be by now if I still carried the excess weight, but I do know it would have been a serious issue.

Today's 'me' wouldn't be the person I am now - with the additional weight I'd probably be the pale, depressed, anti-social, embarrassed individual I used to be, lacking in confidence and hiding in dull, baggy clothes, trying to blend into the wallpaper and avoid cameras at all costs! I hated her and she hated me just as much.

I've seen a few women recently (some really quite young, as well as older), carrying excess weight and struggling badly, sometimes using crutches to help them walk. Even lovely hubby has noticed and commented on the increased numbers of people, mostly female, we see who fit this model. There but for the grace of God... that could so easily have been me.

I can hardly express how grateful I am to be where I am today, not where I was a few short years ago. I'm living life and enjoying life and feel like I'm the true 'me' once again. On my journey, I had a lot of support from you good folks out in Blogland along the way and for that I'm grateful too.

Diane asked "Are you ever tempted to give up, and what keeps you going?"
I think this pretty much answers why I will never truly give up, even when I am tempted to do so. I may have my down times and struggles, but I cannot go back, so I'll NEVER give up.

On track... up to a point

I'm delighted to say that, even with life's odd little stresses, controlling my portion sizes and being sensible about what I choose to eat are both going well. It feels really good to be doing something positive once again, and wonderful to see some progress (even if only a little) from both the scale and through the waistbands in my work clothes.

I'm not counting my chickens though. I am all too aware that this is a sort of honeymoon period as it's still very early days after my fresh start. I'm also mindful that food alone is not a long-term answer to shedding fat and keeping it off. I need to increase my exercise (in range and amount) before I'll feel like I'm properly back on track. Although walking is going well, and is very helpful especially when I've little time to factor in much else, I am aware that I do need to do more. I'm missing the rower!

On the food front, I had a small senior moment in the supermarket and picked up the wrong variety of apple (my usual is Pink Lady, which I love). What a good mistake to make though - I have Royal Gala this week and, far from being disappointed, they are great! Wonderfully tasty, juicy and crunchy - obviously right in season. Hmmm, maybe I need to start being a bit more adventurous and not just stick to what I 'know' I like.

Dinner last night was quite a culinary adventure. We had some leftover boiled new potatoes in the fridge, with some odd bits of veg, which lovely hubby popped in the oven with some herbs and a little oil to roast. This was topped off with some smoked mackerel which has been lurking in the freezer for quite a time. It sounds strange and I don't know what you'd call it, but it looked amazing and tasted even better.


Feeling positive and strong and cheerful today. Long may it continue.

Another bump in life's road

Wow! I've just realised that this is my 300th post. Can hardly believe I've had that much to say.

Well, we went to see the consultant at the end of last week but didn't come away smiling and dancing for joy. To be honest, the news wasn't all that positive - more a mixture of 'OK, that's reasonable' and 'oh hell, that's rubbish'. Lovely hubby's ordeal isn't over yet and it'll be a while before we can relax. Although they are reducing a little bit, it's still meds 'r' us for a while longer. It wasn't the news we'd hoped for and it did get us both down.

Added to this, over the weekend we ended up making an extra, unplanned (emergency) visit to the hospital when another wee hitch cropped up. Sorted (mostly) now, but not fun. Stress levels went back up through the roof and more than a few tears were shed.

Having said all that, and not expecting too much after what has been a less than fabulous Bank Holiday, jiggering about with what I'm eating and reducing my portion sizes is showing up on the scales and I've lost a few pounds. My trousers don't feel as tight and I can admit to being pretty happy about that.

I've been doing some pretty serious thinking too - more of that in a later post though.

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!