Success comes in many sizes.

Dear all,

I have finished university. Well, not finished as such but dissertation is in, final pieces of work are done and I have two weeks of excavation work with my friends. So I'm considering it done. And I won't lie, that has been very weird. The process leading to this moment has also been EXTREMELY stressful and, as such, here is a late offering.

First, let's talk numbers. I am back averaging two pounds off per week (yay!) though I highly doubt that will happen this week because I have let my hair down and had a lot of fun in celebration of all of the hard work coming to an end. However, I'm not going to dwell on that because I have another success to discuss.

This is an open apology to Next about the quality/quantity of their plus size stuff. I was pleasantly surprised.

Yes friends. That is a next top in a size 18. Whilst this is hardly a golden ticket that enables me to buy stuff anywhere- I still can't exactly walk in pick anything off a shelf and buy it- this was a moment of success for me that literally had me crying in the changing room. Now, I won't lie, it's quite possible that the overall feeling of nostalgia and sentimentality over the last few weeks of my university career got to me (borderline breakdown on the M5 may or may not have happened) but regardless, size 18 is an enormous deal to me. 

I don't exactly remember the last time I could walk into a normal shop (read: not plus sized specific) and buy an item of clothing that was not held in their plus sized section. But one moment in particular comes to my memory but we have to go back a LONG time. As in, 14 years. 

I was with my friend Annabelle in Tunbridge Wells (I think) and I needed something to wear to our end of school party (this was in year six...which should just about sum up how long my weight has been an issue) and had already started to hate shopping. Nothing was in my size, I needed to go to a 'special' shop and hope that they had something that would fit my petite (read: 4 foot 9 size 14) frame. This was a nightmare, because I'm sure you can see that a 10 year old should not be wearing size 14. At this point I was not overly concerned with my weight for any health reasons. I just wanted to look nice. I had crushes on boys who would not (still don't...grumble grumble) fancy the fat girl and I wanted to prove them wrong. Anyhoo, back to Tunbridge Wells. I tried on a pair of jeans, I think in New Look- can't remember exact details, except that they were acid wash jeans and I thought I was such a boss. They were size 12 and when they did up (and I could sit down!) I cried in the changing room (apparently this is a theme for my life). I realised then that being 'normal' (at least where size was concerned) was important to me because I could already see how marginalised I was becoming. 

Anyway, I rocked those jeans at the end of year party. But Jack Brewer* still paid no attention to me. . . I won a CD for my dancing though, so swings and roundabouts. 

I'm not telling you this because I had some kind of dramatic flashback the other day in the changing room. It's just something I realised/remembered as I was typing. Hope you enjoyed that little story!

So yes, back to success. That was a success for me. But unlike my 10 year old self I'm not going to take that feeling and go and buy myself some milkybar choos (Oh My GOD did I love those) and complain about boys after spending hours imagining what my name would sound like if we got married. . .Instead, this is a mark to myself to keep going. Another size down and I CAN buy clothes from just about anyone. I'll probably cry in the changing room again. I'm sure you can't wait for that!

I'm still doing my daily selfies so remember to #followtheselfie if you're on twitter. And finally, to the people I've been running into the last few days from my time at university. It means SO much that you've been following my progress. I hope I can continue to make you proud. 

*Names have been changed to protect anonymity...Not that he'd read it.

What a difference a week makes...168 little hours

As I mentioned last week, the past few weeks have been the hardest in the plan so far. I mean, seriously. Not only was I lacking in motivation, I wasn't even trying to pretend that I wasn't eating sh*t. I suppose that's a good thing though? I was very obvious about it so perhaps I don't fall into the realm of a secret eater...Small victories.

Anyhoo, I spent the last week getting myself whole heartedly back into the plan. This involved more than one trip to the supermarket where I had to stop myself from buying any muffins. Or cake. Or pretzels. Basically, baked goods. I told myself that I needed to get back to only eating the filling and healthy stuff (Weight Watchers new simple start ) before I could trust myself to only have a set amount of any baked goods. The only exception was two Pepperidge Farm chocolate pecan chunk cookies and I still don't fully comprehend how I stopped myself from eating the entire packet- other than they belonged to my mum and she would have been less than happy had her treat foods disappeared without her even having had one. 

And it worked. This week I lost 4 lbs. I'm still not quite back to where I was before I slipped (have another 5 to go) but it proved to myself that I can still do it, my body has NOT just stopped losing weight, I'd just stopped caring and that couldn't be allowed to go on even one day more. Hope you enjoyed that musical interlude! So as I go into my second week back on track, I feel confident that I'm doing the right things and am back in the swing of things. I'd love to blame stress (and no one would blame a final year university student with deadlines looming etc.) but I know that this just happens. It's so easy, when you aren't even half way yet, to be frustrated. The end is not yet in sight for this so it's not always so easy to focus on the small goals that happen down the road. 

In other news, I was back in the gym today with Jemma- have I said I love her, because I do...*Public apology, sorry I was so pants at the deadlifts today. Also, sorry that I wiggled my hips to make the pull-ups easier. I will not do that again* and there was pain. MY BUM is aching. This is what I need to remember, it's not just that I'm going to have a bit of muscle ache tomorrow, the disaster that is my coccyx does not respond well to being lazy only to have to exert itself and then I pay for it. 

And finally, I've completed my first week of daily selfies. I've nearly forgotten to do it on 5 of the 7 days but they've been done. Only 358 left to go...

make animated gifs like this at MakeAGif

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.