Oh Thank Fuck

This is exactly what my BF was thinking when I stepped off the scales this weekend and delivered my weight loss news to him. All week I have been waffling on about how good I've been and how well I have stuck to my calories, so if I hadn't lost, I'm not sure he knew how he was going to handle the emotional fallout that would almost certainly follow.

Luckily, weight loss this week was just over 1.5lbs, which I am massively pleased with. I didn't quite do as much exercise as I did the week before, but having tested out my new weights routine, I have now worked out a nice weekly schedule that — for the first time ever — actually excites me a bit. I have been groaning a lot this week — hamstrings, glutes and abs have all been put through their paces and I have really felt the burn. I might be expecting slightly unrealistic results from this new weights venture, so I'm trying to not to get overexcited, but it is nice to feel positive for a change.

I have found the weekly graphs on MFP to be very handy in the last few weeks, for one quite important reason : the average daily calorie intake graph. This has been invaluable to me recently, as if you do go over your suggested calorie intake for the day (which I ALWAYS do on the weekend because I am a human being who wants to enjoy life), you can work out how to rectify the damage, whether it's by eating less another day, having a fast day (which I am properly doing again, thank fuck) or chucking in some extra exercise. It does stop you from going too mental in the kitchen, although it has not stopped me from eating a shit-tonne of marzipan. Yup, I've had it in the kitchen since Christmas and it seems to be a regular accompaniment to a cup of tea these days. I can't bring myself to throw it away, nor can I stop eating it! Also, BF is annoyed with its presence because the yellow foil keeps making him think we have a packet of custard creams, only to discover it is squidgy, smelly, disgusting marzipan (in his opinion).

[Oh my god — I was actually just frantically searching around my desk for the small piece of cereal bar I had just put down and was genuinely shocked when I realised I had just eaten it… WHAT WILL BECOME OF ME???]

I saw my lady-friends for dinner this week, and I made sure I had planned my potential food options before I even got to the restaurant. I turned up a bit late and they were all, "Oh no, you're going to take ages looking through the menu now, aren't you?" (they know what I am like with too much choice) but I already knew what I was having (steak salad with fries on the side) and I knew it was within my allowance — BOO-YA! I can't lie and say I wasn't tempted to just order something huge and cheesy (we were in a fucking Frankie & Benny's after all!) but I knew that it would make me feel like absolute shit after. So I settled for having a bit of mayo with my chips and scraping the whipped cream off my friend's milkshake — oo-er! (We're a very close bunch.)

Begrudgingly, I am also adding up every bastard thing that passes my lips on the weekends, which I never used to do, but I have realised it gives me a better gauge of how the week might pan out. Looking at Saturday just gone, I had better exercise my arse off or prepare for a gain next weigh day, because it turns out I ate 3000 calories in one evening… That sounds terribly disgusting, but there is no way you can go to a Deep South restaurant with friends and have a nice dinner with lots of alcohol on a calorie budget of 1290 — jog on mate, seriously. (I have been THAT person who is sitting with a bowl of salad and tap water, looking miserable as fucking sin. I would rather eat the good food and then exercise it off.)  The best you can hope for in that situation is that the food was worth it, which it was. We had lots of delicious starters (chicken wings, shrimp, jalapeno poppers), followed by ribs, fries and coleslaw, which was then topped off with a lychee martini. And when I say 'a', I obviously mean 'three', plus a beer, plus another cocktail. Well, we didn't have dessert, did we?? Anyway, fuck off — I saved 250 calories on Sunday night, so there.

I am no longer setting myself any short term goals, such as "be 10st by my birthday". I never fucking hit them, and then I just feel like a massive loser, and then I go drown in a box of Krispy Kremes. Followed by chips, followed by pizza, followed by Jam Mallows. I am just going to stick with what I am doing, make minor adjustments and just make sure the trend is generally downwards. It's boring, but I think it's sensible for me.

Oh, I forgot to to say — my new favourite activity is punching my tensed-thigh, watching how less and less of it is jiggling with every passing week and then shouting "GRRRRRR!".

Blog post done.