Coping with outside forces OR 'The dinner party means my 'Diet' is over'

Months ago I started a series of 'myth busters'. Apparently- and I don't know when- I abandoned that. Since I'm making an effort to get back into the swing of things blogging wise, I thought that I'd go back to that as a starting point. Since I was out for a lovely meal today I figured that this topic would be the best one for me to do now so, without further ado, here we go!

The dinner party means my 'Diet' is over
If you'll allow me, I want everyone reading this to take a second and think about any time they've been on a diet. Now, given the statistics that 37% of UK women and 18% of UK men are Dieting most of the time (not including people who have been on a Diet at SOMETIME- which I couldn't find) I think it's fair to think that people will either know from direct experience or from just existing around other people in this Dietcentric world of ours. Does this sound familiar. 'Diet starts on Monday'?
Many people who go on a Diet will build themselves up over a week promising themselves that their Diet starts on Monday, only to fail on Tuesday and then repeat. Cycles of Monday start ups that are doomed to fail when people then have some kind of outside force in the week, causing them to break their diet and need to start all over again. The only difference is, unlike people who are changing their lifestyle, this starting again does not happen at the next meal or the next day but the next Monday. Hmm.

Despite the fact that I've been losing weight now for over a year, I still get the 'where do YOU want to eat, what will work for your Diet?'. Whilst I appreciate the concern and the consideration of my dining companions I know that this comes from a preconception that either I am, or should be, only eating a lettuce leaf. I won't lie to you, today was hard. As I mentioned in my last blog post, I'd been struggling recently and I am finding it harder (as I get myself back on track this week) to fend off my cravings. I should stress, however, that it is not this meal that would have caused me to go off track and need to start all over again. On the contrary, I didn't have alcoholic beverages, I only had a small amount of the nibbles that were brought out (those who know me personally will appreciate this- I left behind an olive...that NEVER HAPPENS), I ate slowly and mindfully and despite the little voice in the back of my head screaming 'Get the tarte tatin! Get it. Get it! GET IT!' I didn't have dessert. No, the 'dinner party' in question was the takeaways I was feeding myself with over the last week before I came home. I hardly tracked, if at all, on those days and was trapped in a cycle of 'no breakfast, store bought sandwich for lunch and then ALL THE FOOD for dinner'.

Or you know, don't...whatever.

Not only is that not cost effective, I felt physically awful. Until I rallied, got my shit together and tracked- then my body was all about calling out for the pizza and chow mein...

But I digress. I've said this before, I'll say it again and I'm not alone in saying this. I am wholly in control of what I put into my body. The diet, both big D and little d, is only over when I say it is and I am just not okay with giving up over a pack of Papa John's jalapeno poppers.

A whole year later

Hello readers. I'm sure I've lost a lot of my viewership considering how remiss I've been at writing this. I'm crap- don't you worry, I know! But, it's been a year. A YEAR, so I couldn't go a day further without getting on my laptop and writing something- anything- to sum up this last year. And hopefully break down the whole 'oh I haven't written in a while, no one cares' thing.

A few stats:
74 lbs lost (that's 5 stone 4 lbs; 34 kilos to translate)
5 dress sizes
41 inches across my body
11.5 points down on my Body Mass Index
5 trips to charity shops with old clothes
50 Weight Watchers meetings
10 silver sevens
One 10% key chain
One half marathon
Two races for life

It hasn't been easy, and I still have miles to go before I sleep, but simply writing those stats down has reminded me how much I have achieved in the last year. I won't lie to you- in the last few weeks I've slipped; lots of work, deadlines, running in my university union elections (I didn't win- oh well) has all made planning difficult. I'm going home tomorrow for the Easter holiday (which, if you're a finalist at university, is NOT actually a holiday) and am filled with renewed vigour. I live in the knowledge that Jemma will be there to beat me up if I don't come to the gym, I'll be getting in all the foods I need to help me succeed and I'll be reunited with my Weight Watchers family (something I always look forward to; it's amazing seeing people who started with you and how far they've come).

To keep myself on track, and to actually document the change my body is going through, I've decided that I'm going to challenge myself to a daily selfie. Every day of the next year I am going to take a picture of my face and then put it into a timelapse video to see the change. I'll also post the images daily to twitter which (I hope) will encourage me to keep doing it, even when I really don't want to. In honesty, I've come closer to giving up in the last three weeks than I have in the entirety of the last year. I can't let that happen. I wan't to continue to have stats like ^ that so that this time next year I'm thinking of how much I've accomplished, not wishing I hadn't kept going. I hope to hit 100 lbs lost in the by October (which if I pull my finger out is more than achievable) and I'm checking the Virgin London Marathon page daily so that I am in there the moment the ballot opens for next year. I think my obsession with marathons comes from the weight loss. It sums it up beautifully. It's not about being the fastest; whether you run it, walk it or end up crawling over the finish line, it is the finish and the journey that gets you there that is important.

And finally, a comparison. The last picture of me pre- weight loss and my first of this year's selfies.

Me in March 2013 and today 04/04/2014

New year, new who?

Happy New Year!

I started this new year full of vigour and renewed motivation for my cause but the last months of 2013 were some of the hardest I've ever experienced weight loss and motivation-wise. I got into an absolutely disastrous head space and was certain that the return of the dreaded plateau was upon me. I thought it was like last time, that's it-it's not working anymore, it's only a matter of time until I give up again.

In order for me to be really accurate, this is the last 12 week's weight loss:

23/10/13 19 stone 12.5

31/10/13 19 stone 12.5

07/11/13 19 stone 13

14/11/13 19 stone 9

21/11/13 19 stone 9

27/11/13 19 stone 12

05/12/13 19 stone 13.5

12/12/13 19 stone 9

18/12/13 19 stone 11.5 

26/12/13 19 stone 9 <---day after Christmas...

02/01/14 19 stone 11 <---Christmas caught up with me

08/01/14 19 stone 8

Are you exhausted yet? I was. Since the end of October I have gained and lost and gained and lost and stayed the same and lost and gained and repeat ad nauseam. Had I been doing all the right things in those weeks I would have been so frustrated but I can honestly say I wasn't. I wasn't tracking as reliably and I found myself snacking on more and more of the unhealthy stuff, though to be fair that's kind of par for the course for the festive period. What's worst is that my activity was practically non existent. When I did exercise the old pain was back that put me off doing it again. 

And so, perhaps unsurprisingly, people have asked about my new years resolutions. And in all honesty, I didn't make any. I don't see new years, as an arbitrary date, as the beginning of a new chapter in my life. That chapter was already being written. I did however find this Google trends map of weight loss searches very entertaining: Bikini season and New year. Every. Single. Year.

But I digress. There was no exciting 'new year, new me' facebook status. When I think about it practically, about a stone every two months, 2014 will NOT be the last year that I am within the overweight category so thinking about weight loss as something that starts on January first, and usually ends by Valentine's day, is not going to be all that helpful for me. I started myself back on the wagon before new year, just the delayed reaction after Christmas meant that I still went up despite logging hours in the gym and tracking religiously. (Frustration level, out of this world) I signed up for the Great North Run in September and beginning training for that has reminded me that I'm not just doing this for the weight loss I see in the next weeks or months. I'm doing this for the body I want in my 30s, 40s, 50s. I want it to be strong and healthy and I am investing in that now, just sometimes you need shorter term goals to keep the motivation at a high level. I can't say that this is the last time I forget the real reason I'm doing this, it's not just about being able to fit into regular sizes, it's about building habits and a lifestyle that will sustain me well into the future.

What I have found is that with the start of the new year I found turning down my temptations easier than I had in months. When I went to the first weight watchers meeting of the year on the 8th and had finally come to my lowest weight ever on this particular program I felt that I had finally, well and truly, beaten that cycle. I was out and I'm sure as hell going to stay out. I don't know whether the new year gave me some of the buzz you have in the first few weeks back or if I really did just need last year to end but I feel confident that the current vigour will last long enough to get me well and truly back into the swing of things, including the writing of this blog. Sorry it's so late Piers...I will try to get it out more regularly from now on.

'Your arms feel thinner' or 'Why I love my personal trainer'

So, rather unsurprisingly given my previous lack of determination, exercise, tracking...yada yada yada, I gained this week. I sat in my weight watchers meeting twiddling my thumbs going over every 'mistake' I made last week. And there were many; an extra six points (which I didn't have) on a starter for my curry, pizza (the whole medium- rather than my usual half) and the garlic bread AND the jalepeno poppers. The biscuits...Oh god WHY the biscuits?! You name it, I probably ate it. And I knew why, and I knew it was happening. So this is not an issue of 'fat shaming' where I'm going to stare at myself in the mirror for the next week threatening myself with something or other that if I don't lose what I gained AND more that I'm a failure. That's not how I operate.

How I operate is as follows:
Whilst sitting in said weight watchers meeting and praying that Sue, my leader, wouldn't pick on me to talk I got out my phone. I used said communication device and texted Jemma my personal trainer (as background information, I'm at home- not at uni). I told her that I was going to be utter crap but that I was home and needed to get back in the swing of things. I then went back to my meeting. We were talking about how to cope with the Christmas season, all the food, the booze, the stretchy jumpers your Nan gave you that hide the extra Christmas weight (to keep out the cold, obviously) and then I managed to change the subject, as I so often do. 'We always talk about how to have a life when you're losing weight. What do you do when life kicks you in your (very bruised from the damaged coccyx) arse?' I was of course talking about my grandfather, and here's where I should stress that last Saturday I made it seem like everything was fine. So it never dawned on me fully until it was there on the scale how much of an impact it had had. The answer was, not caring about cooking healthy foods (thus all of my copious takeaways) and eating an entire packet of chocolate digestives, because why the hell not? The answer I received from the members of my meeting was: you have to forgive yourself. There is no point dwelling on what happened food wise after it had happened, you just need to go back to the beginning and track. And be accountable. Which I was. I knew the result wouldn't be the one I wanted but I stuck to my guns and went to that meeting because otherwise I would never know how much I had to do.

Once I got home I had received a text from Jemma. Bummed about the coccyx but looking forward to seeing me. She'd get the motivation back in me...or else. (I kid, I kid!) And so I went to bed and dreamed about not being able to lift even 5kg in a bench, gone would be my squat technique and you could forget about the pull-ups. It was going to be amateur hour, but it was going to happen. No matter how painful. And I should stress it was painful but that's mainly now because the muscles in my bum are rebelling against three weeks off anything and are irritating the same annoying coccyx. And then, an amazing thing happened. I wasn't a disaster. The fear that had held me back from going to the gym 'everyone will laugh at you cus you can't lift for shit' 'if you try running you'll explode your lungs or trip over your feet and go flying off the treadmill' 'if you move you'll injure yourself again you silly idiot' was gone. THIS is what I needed. I needed the trainer I trust, my friend to give me the (gentle) kicking. As we were finishing up she asked me, 'so what do you need to do to keep the motivation?', 'nothing' I said 'we just did it'. 'Awesome...Oh, and by the way, your arms feel thinner'.

It's amazing how it can be one thing, one day, one person that gives you back the motivation that is taking a day/week/month off. As E.L James would say; my 'inner goddess' [barf] is lounging in a chaise and will not be coming out to the gym. Well, my outer goddess has a sore bum, but it was so worth it.

For a love of life.

Dear readers,

It's been a very long time and I've struggled for weeks knowing what I was going to write. The answer was always, nothing. I've gone past the four stone mark but to be honest I've felt complacent recently. I damaged my coccyx a few weeks ago and this has, to some extent, made exercise harder and sometimes scary. I worry about injuring myself again and with the exercise slipping my tracking has got a little sloppy.

My grandfather passed away yesterday. I ate. I tracked, but I ate. I used food as my coping mechanism for the first time in months. But this is not why I am writing this. I realised from the knowledge of my PopPop passing and from a facebook comment on one of my mother's status that I had stopped doing things for the love of life. I'd lost that a little bit.

The aforementioned facebook status.

I didn't realise until I was scrolling back through my mum's facebook page that someone had said that they found my 'love of life inspiring' and until this point, I knew I inspired people to lose weight or achieve their goals but I never necessarily realised that it was also my love of life and the vivacity and vigour that losing weight had given me that was inspirational to people. And so, as I sat in church this morning to remember my grandad and his awesome faith (one that I respect but do not share) I remembered him for all of the things he did, the memories I'd had or the wishes he'd had for his family. I remembered that life is fickle and that there are only two days that you can do nothing, yesterday or someday. It has to be today, it has to be now because I don't know what life will hand me tomorrow.

I know as I write this that my absence in writing down how I feel, my struggles or my victories has contributed to my recent slipping (I stress, I haven't actually gained weight- I just haven't been as positive as I had been). So I'm making a promise, to myself, to my family who I hope to inspire, to my friends who I love to entertain and to absent friends who always wanted the best for me that tomorrow is a brand new day, and I never want to feel like I've wasted a day again.

'Dream On'

As I sit here writing to you all tonight, I am still living off the runner's euphoria that comes after completing a great race. I just did another 5k, it was at Twilight and the route was all along Bristol's harbourside. It was beautiful, the weather was in my favour- not hot, not cold. Damp from earlier but no rain. I completed it in 45 minutes and 14 seconds. Which is nearly 11 minutes off my time in July. So I'm happy, I'm too awake and muscle weary but happy.

Flash back nine hours and you'd see a VERY different picture. I woke up not feeling very well, I can feel the wetter, damper weather beating down my immune system and a cold is almost sure to follow. I lay in bed feeling sorry for myself and was trying everything I could to say it was okay if I didn't compete. I wouldn't be damaging anyone. This is, of course, a lie. I would have damaged myself and my confidence had my lazier urges (Oatmeal's 'the Blerch) won out. As some context I should explain that this came off of the laziest week I've had on this programme. I haven't been gymming nearly as frequently, I've been lazy with my cooking, lazy with my tracking and just didn't feel bad enough to do anything about it. In general (other than some self inflicted boy troubles) everything is going pretty damn well in my life. I'm loving my studies, I feel positive about my abilities and I wasn't feeling NEGATIVE about my weight loss. I'd just became complacent. And so, it'll come as no surprise that I gained weight. I wasn't surprised by this gain but it was a sense of shame for me and lead me not to tell anyone about it. I didn't want to be reminded every time I talked about it that I'd just been a lazy git. Or worse, I'd come to terms with a gain even before I got on the scale, having people say 'oh that's too bad!' or something similar may just have made me feel worse than I would just within my own head. This was not one of those occasions where nature just was conspiring against me and kept my weight the same or secreted in a sneaky pound. Sometimes it's exhausting trying to be the person you want to be for yourself and all of the others who care deeply about supporting your efforts and it's even worse having someone pick out your faults- even if they do so in a non-judgmental manner.

This should have been a line in the sand where I just learn from the mistakes of the past week (of which I could easily see many) and move forward, but this sense of complacency was still there. It was still there this morning when I didn't want to run, it was still there minutes before I donned my running shoes and headed out the door.

And yet, now that it's done, I have the clarity to see just how very important doing this race was to me. It gave me back some of my edge, some of my drive and reminded me of why I'd come to love fitness and activity so much. I just feel better, even now when my feet are a bit sore and my legs feel heavy and uncooperative, I feel better than I did before. Doing this race showed me how far I'd come- 11 minutes difference in 4 months is nothing to be sniffed at! It made me once again think about how I nourish my body and how it nourishes me and that, even when it gets hard and all you want to do is order those onion rings, I need to take care of this body I have and this includes not limiting yourself just because it may be 'easier'. If fitness and activity were 'easy' everyone would be doing it.

So, as I crossed the finishing line with Neil Patrick-Harris singing 'Dream On' in my ears to the cheers of the wonderful people who came out to support and gained my medal (let's be honest, I'm in this for the cheddar) I felt once again, renewed. I am capable of so much more than I would ever have thought- I just have to try.

Here's a motivational Bruce Lee quote for your Sunday morning. It seemed appropriate for this post.

When you reach a milestone.

Well, this blog has been a long time coming (or it certainly feels so to me). I have finally reached my 50lb weight loss goal. If we're being more specific 53 lbs. But who's counting...I kept putting off writing a blog until I hit an arbitrary goal, so I'd finally decided that enough was enough and I needed to sit down and write. And then I actually DID hit this, really important and really long time coming, goal.

When I started this process I believed that the numbers on the scale meant more than anything. Before I came home for the summer reaching that 50lb goal was all I could wish for, but I have learnt so much since then- deeply important things which are just as (if not more) important as the number on the scale. So, I won't lie I had a glass of champagne last night to toast this long awaited goal but it's the other, sometimes little, things that I really want to celebrate with all of you here.

My shiny new medal. 

I did my half marathon on the 28th September. There were, of course, moments where I was certain that my feet were going to fall off, that my back was about to go into spasm and that I was simply going to give up. But I did it. The actual walking bit took about 4.5 hours and no amount of training (and I did a fair amount of training) could really prepare me for what it was going to be like. Walking: for hours, at night; with eight thousand other people. My goal of completion in 3.5 hours was never going to happen when I hadn't accounted for all of the other people and the pit stops and the result of continued exertion in the VERY early hours of a Sunday morning. Had I not done it with Sarah I know I would most likely have stopped. But even with the support of another person personal emotional motivation was what really got me through to the end, to the finish line and to the medal collection area. When doubt set in I thought of my parents; my mother who wishes she was still capable of walking distances, my father who I hope endlessly to motivate to stay active. My friend Lucy who was too ill to take part and for all of the people the world over who, through no fault of their own, are simply unable to use their bodies in the ways they no doubt would like. I almost certainly would have become one of those people. So I did it for me. And once the pain in my feet had subsided (c. 6pm Sunday 29th) I could finally see it for the amazing accomplishment that it was. You could also say I got the bug, as I'm signed up to do another 5k race next Saturday. That'll seem like a doddle now.

Me, before the race started. Before the sore tootsies.

I am now over a quarter of the way into my weight loss. You may or may not remember my coming up with a (beautiful) spreadsheet to keep track of the important goals. I worked out how many pounds I would need to lose when I was 25, 50, 75% into my weight loss and ticking that first one off was hugely important to me. That's not to say there isn't an awful long way to go, but every day and every step feels a little bit closer to that goal. To anyone who is thinking of doing a similar weight loss program I cannot encourage you enough to work out manageable goals that will truly keep you going when the going gets tough, which is does. More frequently than you might wish.

Weight loss Jars, still being used weekly.

I go to weekly yoga classes and I started kickboxing. Both of these do similar things for my body and mind. I may go in carrying a lot of tension (why, I sometimes don't know) but once you're done punching something or going through a full sun salutation with full yogic breathing, it all seems clear again. It's easier to focus, and it makes it far easier to keep going when I would previously have allowed myself to become entirely bogged down with the day to day living of your life. I hate to be a cliche, but incorporating activity in my life has given me part of my life back. And it's not necessarily a part of my life that I knew I was missing. I feel more at ease with who I am, what I do and how well I can do it. This is not something I'd anticipated. I knew that becoming fitter would make my body feel better but when it comes to stabilizing my emotions and taking control over my mind and feelings it has come as a complete shock. If I'm honest, this is the best I've ever felt. About myself, about my life and the best I've felt about my ability to deal with problems when they get handed to you.

Clearly, reaching that goal of 50 lbs is hugely important to me. I was at this point back in March 2009, I'd received the certificate but I eventually stopped being proud of this accomplishment. The framed certificate found itself being shoved under my bed never to be seen again. I'd failed. But now, I've changed my entire way of being. I'm comfortable in my skin and have a good relationship with myself. Change has stopped being about wanting to be different from what I was before and has everything to do now with loving who I have become and wanting to continue to do good things for my body. It's the only one I'll ever have and I now see why it's important to do something every day for myself. It's a strange feeling realising that the way you were before was neglectful to this body that supports me, keeps me alive and only occasionally complains about this neglectful treatment.

In short, I thought I'd managed the 'lifestyle change' before, but I don't think I had. I have now, and I count my blessings daily that I've finally done it.

To the next 50.