Wednesday 22 May 2013

Cancelling Weight Watchers

Or not. BUT I ALMOST DID! I don't know what stopped me really. But at the moment, I think it might be a bad idea. However, saying that, the slimmest I've ever been (through non-sickness) was when I was just calorie counting and eating more protein and and less fat. I was 9st 10lbs, and pretty happy with that. But I was also probably at least 8 years younger. Arse.

I have not been to Fat Club in weeks. Which is probably why I considered cancelling to be honest. I don't know why. Well, actually I do. I went a bit out of control around my birthday because I spent a lot of time treating myself. And so did my friends, hence this most excellent Daim Bar Brownie Birthday Cake.

I can almost taste the Daim at the bottom of this brownie as I type.

It was exceptional and delicious and made by a very good friend who does not really bake. Apparently, whilst researching what kind of cake to make in the first place, she did call the others for advice about a recipe she had found, mainly because she felt "uncomfortable about using 10 eggs". That made me laugh a lot. But yes — the brownie was divine. Which is why it got packed into her car before we went out clubbing, so I could take it home with all my birthday cards once we got back pissed, as her sober boyfriend was driving us all home.

Unfortunately, my other friend who let us drink round hers didn't realise we had done this, and promised her boyfriend that there would be lovely, tasty, delicious brownie to eat when they got back to the flat. I think they spent a long time looking for it before realising it had deffo been lifted from the premises…

ANYWAY. By the time I eventually got back on the ol' dieting wagon, a fair amount of time had passed. Weirdly (despite a fair amount of eating nice food) I have managed to keep my weight EXACTLY the same since the 25th April. Now, (seeing as you have have probably worked out I am a total food fiend), that is not bad at all! Yes, I know I am basically patting myself on the back for keeping myself in a state of chubby stasis, BUT in some weird world, it does prove that I must have been making at least some sensible food choices. So all I need to do now is lose 25lbs and THEN get into maintenance stage. Yeah man, I'm basically half way there! Piece of cake. 

Oh, speaking of cake: I am really sorry about the new layout. My boyfriend pointed out that the background now reminds him of the Kingfisher Bakery (he clearly meant the Hummingbird Bakery) and that my blog now looks like its more to do with cupcakes than weight loss. Which is true. But seriously, I don't think I can be fucked to change it again. Well, not this year anyway. The intense green and purple is gone, and let's just all be thankful for that.

Blog Mate and I are trying to set ourselves mini goals so that weight loss is not so daunting. So by Friday morning, I should be 3lbs lighter, as that was my goal for the last 2 weeks. Will I succeed? Well, maybe actually! I have been weighing myself every other day (I know, I know — it's stupid) but its kinda keeping me on track. It looks OK at the moment…

OH FUCKING HELL. So, I am in a band with this 65 year-old-woman who drums (have I told you this before? Because this is fairly weird information if not) who has been losing weight at an alarming rate. She has lost 10lbs in 6 weeks — which means I now can't use the excuse that it's hard to lose weight when you get to the rickety age of 31. She has done this by eating half of what she usually does, which she is finding very straightforward, as it turns out she EATS THE SAME THING EVERY DAY. I mean, fuck me — seriously??? I think I would kill myself. She isn't a foodie, so she eats, like, two chicken legs and an apple at lunch, then a pork chop and broccoli in the evening and a couple of gin and tonics. So now she is just consuming half of all of that. She gave herself 3 months to hit her target, and then her life will go back to normal. 

WHY CAN I NOT DO THIS? I have been trying to lose weight for fucking YEARS, and because she is focused, she is gonna be done in a few more weeks. FUCK. To be fair, we are quite different people — she is a salt-of-the-earth type who has a very direct approach to everything: she only started drumming when she was about 50 after hearing Metallica for the first time. Yup, you heard me. I, on the other hand, like to dither when it comes to any aspect of my life. I like to talk about it. I like to plan. I like to make lists. I like to dream about being thin, and buy clothes that almost fit, and write about it all in blogs. But I just can't seem to apply myself to actually doing it very well. Nothing has 'clicked', and no switch gets flipped. Nor am I OK with being this size. If I lost 1lb every week from now onwards, I would be done by mid November. DONE. DUSTED. OVER. SLIM.

I am going to try to channel my drummer. She said she wears her hunger like a badge, because she knows it means she is getting thinner. The thought of that fills me with terror, but maybe I need to get used to feelings of hunger. OH GOD, MY STOMACH IS RUMBLING LIKE A BITCH AS I TYPE THIS!!!!


There is no hope for me.

Thursday 16 May 2013

I'VE PEAKED.

OK, so three years ago I still thought the best was yet to come. I was gonna get svelte, learn how to dress for my shape and have better hair. 

Not so.

1095 days later: I'm still the same shape, dress in baggy t-shirts and leggings, and my hair is actually worse.

When I told my friends (it was just me who thought we hadn't peaked yet) one of them said "I don't think we've reached the steep part of the descent yet". Fucking great. Thank you very bloody much. 

In other news, I cant remember being 19. When did that happen? Where the hell was I? I can't imagine even being that age. 

It's depressing enough to make me eat the Daim bar I can see out of the corner of my eye… YOU ARE GOING BACK IN THE FUCKING DRAWER.

Tuesday 14 May 2013

Holy CRAP. (And THAT teacher)


I did not realise it has been a month since I last posted... Sorry guys. 

So I should probably update you on what's been happening! Firstly, there HAS been running. That is something at least. I really am not improving as much as I should be, but my potential shin splints are not what we are here to talk about today.

Then there was dinner with my blogging school friend… Let's call her Blog Mate — she will love that I reckon. Or not. This should have just been a fun dinner, but unfortunately, it led to some weird stuff… OK, just realised I have made it sound like we lezzed out, so I will just get to the point. RIGHT. So, we had an English teacher at school who we probably all had a bit of a crush on because he was young and we were in a school for girls. He taught us in Year 10, but then left teaching altogether. Blog Mate said to him: 'I hope you know you're walking out on your career"… which is pretty funny, right? Yeah — until we found out he now owns several EXTREMELY popular restaurants in London…

For some reason, this has bugged the fuck out of me. I knew something was up when I saw him in the the British Airways magazine on a flight to Scotland, but I thought it was just a flash in the pan. I am not normally a jealous person, but this has made me go slightly mental with envy. I don't know why — I don't even want to be a fucking chef! I guess I am very jealous of his drive — he used to teach all week, and then work his butt off in restaurants on the weekend. I can't even bring myself to do one of my creative pursuits for just one hour after work. Blog mate and I calculated he was about 30 when he started doing the restaurant thing, so it means I really need to start doing my thing… oh… One year ago.

(OK, so it looks like this post is blatantly going to be about my obsession with my teacher. Sorry.)

Blog Mate and I figured that as we were meeting up, we should try out one of our teacher’s restaurants. I deliberately found some bad reviews of the Venetian one we went to so that I too could whinge about the chewy chicken and crap meatballs. Alas, it didn't quite work out that way... The place was buzzing, no, it was HEAVING. We sat down and took in the delicious menu, the gorgeous decor, the tasty smell of the food... CUNT CUNT CUNT. We ordered one dish off each section and a bit of wine, and then I asked the waiter if by any chance our teacher was there. The waiter smiled and said he wasn't, and we explained that he used to be our teacher, probably just to knock him down a peg or two. (Seeing as I was doing all the talking here, it was almost certainly for that reason.) I wonder if he believed us, since our teacher pretty much looks the same as he did 15 years ago, in the many, MANY Internet searches/extensive stalking I have conducted.

When the food came, it was all just brilliant. (I hate him. I hate him.) We had bread, an array of tasty starters, meatballs, pizza — everything was utterly delicious. Which just made me more mad and more hateful. It was a lovely evening, until some really quite inappropriate R&B came on the sound system very loudly... that was the one weird thing. So we both admitted he had done very well for himself, paid our bill and headed home. And I am so bitchy that I am not even going to give his amazing restaurant a shout-out. He doesn't fucking need it. 

(Wow, this happened over a month ago and I am still filled with so much resentment. Great.) 

But it did not stop there. I got a totally obsessed. The whole thing had riled me up for some reason, although I think it's fairly obvious it's to do with my own failings. Alongside the hate was the fact that we had eaten this totally dreamy cod paste thing there that I went crazy for, so I spent the next day violently trying to find a recipe for it. My search brought up the fact he had a recipe book out for this restaurant… I spent a lot of time looking at it. And I mean A LOT. Am I thinking about buying this book? Really? Am I actually going to put more money in his po... CLICK. Oh right, it appears I am. I have now made several things from the book, cursing my way through it at all times, for they were all delightful and it is a lovely cookbook. Well written, nice recipes, good paper, beautiful photos of Venice... I read all of it in bed across two nights. (I hate him. I hate him.) But now, every time someone reads about him in the paper, or sees him mentioned in an article, they tell me. Every time. He is everywhere. FUCKING everywhere. HAUNTING MY UNMOTIVATED SOUL.


So yeah — my boyfriend and I are planning to go to Venice for our anniversary… AND WHAT?

FINE! FINE! I will cook your stupid delicious food, you git…