Just a teeny loss this week, .1kg (.2lbs), but any loss is better than no loss (or a gain!)
But I want to speak about something much closer to my heart this time around.
Food.
It's the reason I subscribe to delicious. I can hear the gasps from here. How can she expect to lose weight if she's reading things like that? (And you should have seen the April cover with it's chocoholic's muffin with slices of Mars Bar glued to the top with melted chocolate.) But you're looking at it from the wrong angle. There's no way I can expect to lose weight unless I'm reading things like that.
Losing the Cow describes the situation I'm in perfectly. Non-fat cheese does taste like ass (or arse if you're from around here). Most low- or non-fat or artificially sweetened things taste like complete arse, as far as I'm concerned. You can protest all you like. You can claim that low-fat product x tastes JUST LIKE the real thing, but sweetie, all I can taste is the horrible chemicals they used to make it.
They're just plain nasty.
Now, I can eat Lean Cuisines and lose weight. But I won't be happy about it. Worse, when I hit goal, I'll ditch them and start eating real food again and gain everything I've lost, plus a little extra.
So I'm teaching myself how to eat what I love in quantities that allow me to lose weight.
This is for life. I need to learn how to eat so that I can maintain this for the rest of my life. Low-fat just ain't going to cut it.
Losing the Cow was dead right, I don't want low-fat food, I want low-volume food.
I'd rather eat one full-fat, full-sugar chocolate chip cookie once a month than all the sugar-free, fat-free, nasty cookies I want. I'd rather have a shaving of real parmesan on my pasta than a handful of low-fat cheese.
So I read food porn like delicious. (for the articles, of course!) That way I can expand my repertoire in the kitchen. I can understand food better and learn more recipes that are delicious and good for me and involve no artificial anything. Just good fresh food prepared well.
So give me real food. Give me food porn (and yes some of the pages are stuck together) and give me a way of eating that will keep me healthy and happy for the rest of my life.
I'm not being anti-social, promise! But like a lot of other sites (not looking at anyone in particular Ms Donut, I've been doing a bit of online renovating.
There's a new link in the top right, but that's not the reason I've been so quiet. If you click the link, you'll see why.
I've had an online presence of some sort for the last 6 years. I've finally managed to combine all the different blogs and scattered bits of work into one place and I think it looks pretty spiffy.
The design is sort of a mirror of this. If you're interested, go have a poke around and let me know what you think. And I'll be back with a weigh in soon!
Why yes, I would like a little cheese with that whine. Thanks to Amanda and Kimba for pulling my head out of my arse and showing me the light.
You can't make this all about the numbers. It's doomed to failure.
I know this intellectually. But, in my praise whore of a heart, I want validation from smaller numbers on the scale and the measuring tape.
I need to learn that getting up a flight of stairs without huffing and puffing is equally valid. So is a smaller pair of jeans. So is getting up and walking every day or doing weights or pilates or whatever takes my fancy because I enjoy moving my body more.
Also at the heart of this is a desire to understand how my body works and how it responds to different exercise and eating habits. Right now, I have less idea of what makes my body lose weight than when I began. But I guess if I keep doing what I'm doing, it will keep doing what it's doing.
Despite all of this and despite not losing any inches and despite eating poorly last week, I still dropped .5kg (1.1lbs) this week. Which is confusing but it's a loss and I'll take a loss with a handful of confusion over a gain and understanding any day!
Demotivated. Derailed. Discouraged. Disheartened. Spiritless. Uninspired. Unmoved. Pick your adjective, it's what I am right now.
Yesterday was a whole other ball of wax...
Our house guest was gone, so I could maintain better control over my eating. I'd blown a wad of money and bought myself a better pair of walking shoes (the old Cons really were not doing the job).
Imagine them with a softer blue grey and petal pink. Kinda girlie, but oh my, the difference they made to my feet. I walked taller, stronger, more freely.
I also got myself some resistance bands and a mat for the Pilates DVD my beloved bought me for our wedding anniversary.
I was little Miss Inspired. I was going to throw myself back into eating right and getting plenty of exercise.
I knew the scales would have bad news for me tomorrow at weigh in. I've been eating appallingly, even if I have been keeping up the exercise. So I've made it a point to measure myself once a month, so that I'm not hanging on what the scale says every week.
This weekend was my monthly measure. In past measures, I've lost 17cm (6.6"), 14cm (5.5") and 17cm (6.6") respectively. Two weeks ago I had to buy new jeans to replace the ones I bought at Christmas, as my old ones barely stayed up. People are commenting on how much smaller I look recently. Cinema seats are positively comfy these days.
So how did the tape measure show a measly 2cm (.7") loss this month? Worse, my arms are BIGGER than they were last month! I measured them three times to make sure.
Yes, I measured in the same spots as last time. Yes, I used the same tape measure.
What on earth has gone wrong? It might be water weight, it's that time of the month, but I don't feel bloated and my bra fits fine, which is the usual giveaway if I'm retaining water.
I've been doing weights recently, but not enough to pump up my arms already, surely?
It was such a blow. I was all set to have another satisfying figure to write down because I feel smaller. My clothes fit better. How could the tape measure tell a different story?
I know I shouldn't complain. It was still a loss, even if it wasn't a significant one. I just wanted this so badly, and to be denied it is almost painful. And tomorrow's weigh in isn't going to be a surprise, but bad news is bad news, whether you're expecting it or not.
It was like being derailed. I know tomorrow I've got to get my shit together and get back on track. I can do this. I will do this. And I'll have days like this, and worse, later on. So I'll just suck it up and maybe throw myself into a bath tonight and tell myself that everything will be better when I'm chin deep in Love Spell scented bubbles. But any ideas or motivation from the audience would be gratefully accepted and appreciated!
I need to buy a lottery ticket. I lost .2kg (.4lbs) despite a week that included eating an entire small pizza (plus a slice of my boy's pizza) in one sitting plus beer, chocolate, SmartFood, a large bucket of movie popcorn and chocolate chip cookies.
Ironically enough, my high school's Latin motto was 'Potens Sui'.
It means 'self-control'.
Oh, how it makes me laugh...
That no-fail environment shit is the way to go, I'm telling you.
Because if I have crap in the house, I'm going to inhale it.
Admittedly, I exercised well all this week (half hour walk every day plus half an hour of resistance/weight work three times a week), ate good breakfasts and mainly had vegie soup for lunch.
But while I intended the Mint Slices and Tim Tams and other assorted rubbish for my boy and his visiting friend, deep down I knew I'd be shlorking them down as well.
I don't want to deprive them, but I just can't keep my hands out of the stuff if it's around. I have no self-control.
That's not entirely true, I have selective self-control. I can be good if I really, really want to, but a lot of the time, given the choice between 100gms on the scales and a chocolate biscuit, I'm going to take the biscuit.
That old saw 'nothing tastes as good as being slim feels' is just BS. Some days nothing tastes as good as what I want in my mouth right now.
It's a story for another time, but it takes a lot for my mum to notice that I've lost weight. Around 10kg, usually.
Last weekend, I had to buy new jeans. I mean HAD to. My old jeans were so loose that not even throwing them in the dryer shrank them enough to stay up on my hips. It was crisis time. So I dragged myself off to buy new jeans.
Shockingly enough, I found a pair that fit well and actually made me look good.
Fast forward to this weekend and I'm in the car with mum, wearing said jeans and heading home from shopping.
"You look so good in those jeans," she says, reaching over and patting my knee... and nearly driving right up the arse of the car in front.
I aspired to having the sort of figure that distracted drivers, I never envisioned I might be in the car with one of them!
Another .6kg (1.3lbs) peeled off this week. But I'm not holding out any hope for the next two weeks. We have a houseguest from overseas and, in my usual inimitable style, I had to go crazy to make them feel welcome.
Of course, for me, food equals love, so our fridge is groaning and I've gone and baked 5 dozen chocolate chip cookies. And on top of all of that, a friend has sent a care package from the US with my favourite snack of all time (perhaps even more favourite-er than Doritos), SmartFood. Arrrrgh!
So I don't think my weight stands a chance. I've tried to be good and I've already packaged the SmartFood into portions, so I can only eat a portion at a time, and not inhale a whole packet, like I usually do.
But the disappointing thing for me is to see that my old habits have not died hard. They've not died at all. I had to bake and overstuff the cupboards with food to tell someone, "Welcome to my home." (I'm sure Shane is feeling VERY welcome indeed!)
I'll do my best to make good choices and try to get plenty of exercise. The benefit of guests means plenty of chances for exercise showing them around town.
Thank you all for your comments on my previous, slightly deranged sounding post. I think Lee had it 100% right. That hot chocolate could be 100% Lindt Balls or Godiva chocolate melted straight into my mug and it will not taste as good as what I've imagined in my head. Nothing possibly could. So I won't give in, I'll just have the odd skinny chai latte to keep myself from going completely berserk.
Now I just have to keep my hand out of the damn cookie jar...
Dr Phil was right, a 'no fail environment' really does make a hell of a difference.
I don't buy crap at the supermarket. I just refuse. If it doesn't take some effort to prepare (other than raw veg and fruit), I don't keep it in the house. No biscuits (cookies), no lollies (candy), no chips, no snack food, no nothing.
If it's not here, I can't eat it. And if I want it that badly, I can get off my lardy arse and walk down to the supermarket to buy it.
I haven't thought about hot chocolate or Milo in months. Neither has been a blip on my radar since I started this gig. But now I'm working with a client who keeps a catering-sized can of instant hot chocolate and a huge box of individual packs of Milo in the staff kitchen.
I'm obsessed.
It's all I can think about.
All I want is a mug of creamy hot chocolate or Milo. I know I haven't allowed myself the points for it and I need to keep my sugary points to a minimum if I want to maintain any sort of loss.
Part of me says to give in, to have the mug just to stop the obsessing. Another part of me sees the thin end of the wedge. The 'just one won't hurt' becoming two mugs, three mugs, gallons (OK, so I'm exaggerating just a bit).
Is it so wrong to be so focussed on something so stupid?
I know if I have it I'll be disappointed. It won't taste as good as my fevered little brain has imagined. I'll be disappointed in myself for giving in to what is really a reaction to proximity, not need. I'll be disappointed as my blood sugar crashes a couple of hours after I drink it and I turn into a moody cow from hell.
There is no good here.
I dragged myself off to a coffee shop to grab a skinny chai latte, just to alleviate the craving for something sweet, milky and frothy. But I'm not sure how long that will keep me going.
Should I give in?
That would be the sound of the bullet I just dodged.
After what I ate on the weekend, to actually lose weight would require the sort of bullet-dodging not seen since Keanu, whoa, learned kung fu.
Well, it wasn't so much what I ate as what I drank. Weight Watchers always warns you about the empty calories in alcohol. But it's not the empty calories IN alcohol you need to be worried about...
It's the empty calories you tend to inhale WITH the alcohol that is usually the problem.
Saturday was a friend's wedding reception. In addition to the day's worth of points I stuffed into my face for lunch, I also consumed enough points-worth of alcohol to fuel a starving, third-world nation.
It was this alcohol that lead me to believe that I was entitled, nay, I DESERVED Maccy D's on the way home from the wedding. So I shlorked down another day's worth of crap. At least I was sufficiently sober to order the 6.5 point Fillet-O-Fish rather than the 11.5 point Quarter Pounder with Cheese.
It's the same when I go down the pub. I order my pint. I order another one. Ooooh, wouldn't some garlic pizza go down nicely with that pint? Or maybe some of those nice chippies with the sour cream/sweet chilli dipping sauce. And then there's another pint. And another. And several more and I think we need another of those garlic pizzas, what do you think? And somewhere between that pint and the rest, I become convinced that if I don't get a greasy souvlaki, a bucket of popcorn chicken or Baskin Robbins Cookie Dough ice cream, then some sort of Geneva Convention is being breached.
Yes, I am that girl who has fallen asleep with half a Whopper in her hand after a big night out. And you do NOT want to know where the pickle gets to. Yes, Vegemite on toast in obscene quantities makes perfect sense at 3am when you're trolleyed.
So I think WW needs to review their position. The empty calories in alcohol are the LEAST of your worries.