Yup, you guessed it — I put on weight this week.
Not 0.5lb… not 1lb… not even 1.5lbs. TWO WHOLE POUNDS! Shame on me. And my big mouth. And everything that went in my big mouth.
Now, I should be more sad about this. I once put on half a pound at WW and cried all the way home. I'm not joking. I was at least 25, and I came home and cried under my duvet, and refused to come out for dinner — and I NEVER do that. But that's because I had been so good. This time, I'm not sure I can feel quite so virtuous.
I try to make notes in the week so I have something useful/interesting to write in my blog (hard to imagine, but true), so I went back to see what I had written at the start of the week.
1. "ANNOYED AT RUINING MY FAST, SO I RUIN IT FURTHER STILL."
Well, I think we can all see this is classic sabotage. I've fucked the diet, so may as well fuck it up good and proper. It seems that old habits die hard… I think this particular reference was to me eating a chocolate rich tea on my fast day — which is bad enough — but then going back to eat another one. Then another. Then a cracker. This was worse because I had nodded off on my bed, woke up, ate biscuits and went back to bed. What is wrong with me?? Like there aren't enough weird reasons that make me eat without me having to add 'feeling sleepy after waking abruptly from a nap' to the list. Fucking hell.
2. "NEED TO GET USED TO JUST FEELING THE HUNGER, NOT EAT THEN IMMEDIATELY SLEEP."
Ah yes, I know what this is about. In general, my fast day involves keeping myself busy during the day, coming home, cooking my meal and then just going to bed. Like that's all my body could possibly handle. RID-IC-U-LARSE. My fat body could easily handle a few days work and some exercise before it genuinely stopped being able to function properly on no food at all. I can talk to my bf. I can watch TV. I can do something. Just because I can't eat any more food doesn't mean life isn't worth living and I should just go to bed at 9.30pm.
3. "DRINK MORE WATER."
When I started fasting, I was dead good about drinking water, but now I am incredibly slack. And I think my skin is suffering because of it to be honest (I'm growing a massive spot as I type this.) So more water — we all know that. I have been saying this shit for weeks/months/years.
So those were my notes. I am a tad annoyed that I put on weight (especially before this wedding on Saturday), but it's my own fault, not the diet's. In fact, this diet has been great and as yet, I haven't really got any complaints! It's been a busy July and every weekend has involved an event that required a) lining one's stomach with stodge, b) drinking copious amounts of alcohol, c) eating a drunken snack and d) recovery food the next day. It's not an excuse, but it does make it harder to be more mindful on the weekend. Also, I had loads of cupcakes left over from my friend's birthday which were pretty calorific, but I just couldn't throw them away. All that eating was going to catch up with me at some point…
But some good news — I have been a bit more careful with portion sizes. I got halfway through my dinner the other evening when I thought "I am comfortable, so I need to stop eating any more of this" — so I did. Yey me! Was my stomach shrinking? Was I finally understanding that I need to eat less? Or was it the fact that I had eaten half a bag of low fat popcorn whilst the pasta was cooking? We will never know.
Also, I went to dinner with the girls and left food. ACTUALLY LEFT FOOD THAT I HAD PAID FOR, ON MY PLATE. I never do that. It was really delicious, but I was quite stuffed. Annoyingly, the waiter left our plates in front of us for AGES, and by the time he eventually took them away, I was peckish and probably could have finished it. BUT, I had already placed my napkin like a tiny little shroud over the leftovers, so it would not have been cool to start eating cold rice and kebab from underneath. My friends wouldn't have judged though — they have seen a lot, including an occasion where me and one of them had eaten so much food at a restaurant that we had to get back to her flat and lie on the cold, wooden floor for at least 15 minutes, just groaning and rubbing our stomachs. Her flatmate then came in, popped my friend's WW Points Calculator artistically between us and took a photo. I don't think Facebook was invented then — THANK GOD.
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