In the words of Eric Cartman — "BEEFCAAAAAAAAAAAKE!"

Firstly, I lost weight. It looks like I basically just lost whatever I 'put on' last week, but given that I am doing weight training and have been reading so much about water retention, losing inches rather than pounds etc, I'm really not putting too much stock into this. If I lose, I lose. I just have to know that I am sticking to my calories and exercising enough. I would normally be excited about a loss, but at the moment, it all seems fairly meaningless, so I'm just getting on with it.

My new weigh day is now Saturday, just because I normally end up eating something unhealthy this day, and it means I have a week to repair the damage! On this particular Saturday, we went to Frankie & Benny's for dinner — woo-hoo! The food was all delicious, even though I didn't get to eat their amazing hotdog — BUT I WILL ONE DAY. I was quite in the mood for a cheeseburger, so I had settled on that until my boyfriend ordered the double Philly steak burger… For some reason, I felt that this gave me the green light to order a double cheeseburger — WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? I'm supposed to be watching what I eat! Well, I got punished in the end, because I couldn't finish the second patty in the bun and felt terrible for wasting it. Note to self: don't do that again, because you are not a slim man with a super-fast metabolism. Despite this, I had the low-fat pancake for dessert (well, let's try, eh?)— 200cals and really very nice! No pics cos I wolfed it all.

These looked and tasted delicious.

On Sunday, I went a bit mental in a food market in St Albans and spent about £15. And that's only because I stopped myself. I went with my uncle and his son — my poor cousin tried to buy a gourmet bacon roll for £4 and my uncle just told him, "Don't buy that — we've got two rashers of bacon at home"… ehehehehe. Thankfully, he was allowed to buy a scotch egg and a mini quich later. I bought some giant flat mushrooms, a black pudding scotch egg, a huge croissant, ostrich burgers and a coconut bird feeder thing, which I obviously didn't eat, even though it looked quite appetising — a bit like a rustic Bounty. Oh, I also bought some super-spicy pickled onions! They are an absolute godsend on a fast day — really fucking hot (there are Scotch Bonnet chillies in the vinegar and my mouth is watering just thinking about them) but very low in calories. The flat mushrooms were amazing just grilled, but on the second day I added some sundried tomato paste, garlic salt and a few herbs and stuck them in the oven — frigging fabulous!

Last Thursday, I made the mistake of eating my fasting dinner (because I was fucking starving!) before doing my weights session. I will NOT be doing that again in a hurry, dear god, no. I was really fucking thirsty, so I had also drunk quite a lot of water through the evening… It was mainly all fine until I had to lie on my front to do back extensions and suddenly I could feel air and food all swooshing around dangerously close to the top of my throat… I ended up not completing the exercise because I was on the brink of throwing up — nobody wants to be found wearing cheap leggings, an exercise bra and furry boots, drowned in their own vomit under a 5ft dried-up Christmas tree, do they? Lesson learnt. 

Looks gross, but was actually delicious.

This brings me to the problem I have encountered since I upped my exercise routine (I now work out every day except Sunday) — I feel like I am permanently ravenous. And it's been affecting my fast days quite badly, to be honest. Last week was a pile of shite when it came to fasting, but at least I didn't go over my daily calorie allowance. To combat this crazy hunger, I've tried to find a more filling breakfast — step in savoury porridge! Yup, sounds disgusting I know, but it was actually just like risotto. Oats, red onion, mushrooms, parsley, ham and light garlic cream cheese. I don't really like sweet breakfasts, so this was perfect for me, but I imagine some people would really struggle with it. But at least it was filling. I think I will experiment with some other savoury oat recipes next week — makes a change for breakfast! [FFS — whilst I am trying to type this, I keep seeing an email come up titled 'Donut Tasting' — seriously??]

Still very much enjoying the lifting, and sticking with the principle of just lifting more and more each week. My posture feels a hell of a lot better, my arms feel strong (I cannot stop flexing and moving my biceps whilst sitting at my desk — what a geek!) and whilst I probably can’t quite crack walnuts between my thighs, I could definitely smash a few on top of them. So at the moment, that is what I am concentrating on — feeling good and trying to eat well. The theory is that everything else should fall into place… right? RIGHT?

Week 19 : I Bloody Told You.

It caught up with me.

I fucking knew it would. I even predicted it. Which basically means I willed it to happen. Which it then did. I put on 0.8lbs this week, which is EXACTLY what I lost the week before. If nothing else, my weight journey was strangely poetic.

To be fair, I've eaten a lot of nice things in the past seven days, so if there was going to be any week I was going to get chubby, it was going to be this one. (I was just about to write "get my chub on" but then remembered that means something TOTALLY different in other parts of the country!) At the beginning of the week, I met up with my FFF (Former Fat Friend) for dinner whilst she was down in London for a few days. I will just add, she looked even slimmer than the last time I saw her. Bitch. We went for a drink before food, and I wasn't supposed to have anything alcoholic (I was trying to be good), but then she had a pint and I figured that as it was a mini reunion, a Diet Coke would almost certainly ruin the catch-up session. So it was a bottle of Desperados for me — my new favourite drink. For dinner we went to ASK, because a) it was close by, b) I could get a discount with my Taste Card, and c) I knew I could log it easily with MFP. I had all the low fat options already worked out, so my shortlist was pretty small. Seeing as I'd had a beer already, I knew that I should have been ordering the Fettuccine Verdure (peas, tomatoes, some other boring shite but only 423 calories), but then my mate ordered some creamy gnocchi dish and my willpower started to waver... I started looking at the pizzas... then spaghetti carbonara… then some meatball rigatoni dish... All the while, my neck was getting really hot. My palms felt clammy. I could feel myself getting flustered and sweaty... Will it really make a different if I have something more tasty? ARGH! NO! Be good, be good, be good! So I was, to my shock. The fettuccine was actually OK, but like my friend said, I would have felt terrible if I'd ordered something calorific. Especially considering what happened 36 hours later.

So, a few days along, BlogMate and I met up. We had been planning this meal since the last time we were sat down for a meal together. Finally, we were going to hit Shake Shack. Hard. Excitement was in the air! We weren't even put off by having to queue in the cold and then potentially eating in the cold. We were two women on a mission. A tasty, cheesy mission. And I tell you — the mission was a success. Behold, the below picture.

You are looking at the following:

• Shack Stack Burger: a cheeseburger with a breaded-and-fried-til-crispy portabello mushroom filled with melted cheese
• Crinkly fries
• Fifty/Fifty: Half lemonade, half iced tea
• Sticky Toffee Concrete: Frozen vanilla custard, chocolate toffee, chocolate chunks, salted caramel sauce and malt powder

Sorry the picture isn't great, but a) I am shit at taking photographs, and b) I don't really want to be one of those dicks who spend ages taking pictures of food for no apparent reason. This meal was absolutely delicious. The burger was fucking amazing — all melty and beefy and cheesy. The chips were crisp, the drink was refreshing and the ice cream was THE creamiest thing I've ever eaten. All in all, worth the wait. (And worth the weight, to be honest, which is what I accidentally typed out first). It is very unsurprising I put on, given that the total of this meal was a whopping 1640 calories. What's worse is that I was supposed to eat light that day, but I somehow ended up eating a million Viscount biscuits so my daily intake was through the roof. Ah well. There is no light way of doing burgers — if it's light, it's not right. 

So the next day, I was fasting (thank fuck) and I decided to go to H&M to try on some skinny jeans, and these jeans were as fucking skinny as they come. They didn't have a size 16, so — as they were very stretchy — I stuffed all my fat into a size 14 pair. They didn't look too bad actually, so into the basket they went. I also tried on some, ahem, leather trousers… I have had an obsession with them forever, so I just wanted to see. What I saw was that they were going to go no higher than my knees, so they were promptly peeled off. Not one to be defeated, I then tried on something of a halfway house — leggings with a leather panel down the front. I managed to get these on, but whilst checking them out in the mirror, I started feeling a bit funny and hot...FUCK! Even that small strip of leather was making me sweat and go weird (think Ross in Friends), so they were also a no-go. There was also the brutal fact that I am simply a foot too short and, coincidentally, a foot too wide to pull them off. So bye-bye leather pants — I'm afraid we just can't be together. It's not you — it's me. 

So given the fact that I hadn't lost any weight, I was a bit more carefree than usual on the weekend. In Guildford, I almost had a pretzel-coated sausage, but I couldn't face brandishing something quite so phallic-looking in public (especially with that bit of sausage poking out the top) so instead I had the pretzel-wrapped Twix. Unfortunately this also had an air of pastry penis about it, but once I'd got it into my head that it was like a healthy deep fried Mars bar, there was no turning back. And obviously, it was ridicuously tasty. Melted things are just good. That is what I have learnt this week.

Add to this a McDonald's Quarter pounder with cheese meal, a strawberry milkshake, 2 pints of blonde beer, pizza, crisps, tiramisu and fuck knows what else, it was not a particularly virtuous weekend. Which is only made worse by the fact that I am now ill so morale is running low for fasting. The best I can hope for is to stay the same to be honest. Next week's results might also be a bit weird as I am going away with some lady-friends for the weekend. I'm not promising I'm going to be really good, but I am also going to try not to go mental. We shall see...

Week 18 : Back To Where I Was 12 FUCKING WEEKS AGO… Crap.

It sounds like I'm moaning, but I'm not really. I was fairly happy until I realised that I have been up and down for the last 12 weeks, and that I was this fucking weight in Week 6. That was a bit galling, if I'm honest. But what's done is done now. Can't cry over spilt chips and all that. (Even though I would proper bawl in that situation.)

So this week, I was fuelled by the loss of the past two weeks, which was a really nice feeling and is what good weight loss should be about. Last week I decided that I wouldn't be doing a fasting week, I would just be trying to keep an eye on it and exercise. 

On Monday, I headed up to Westfield (a massive shopping centre in West London) for a shopping trip with the BF. Of course, we don't actually shop together — that would be suicide (or murder, depending on how badly it went). We go our separate ways and meet up for food/advice. Seeing as we got there at lunch time, we started with some food (YESSSS!) so I had a very nice Lebanese wrap with fries, and then off I went to buy some knee high boots. Fuck me — there was nothing I particularly liked, and everything cost about £100. I wandered in and out of clothes shops as well, trying on the odd dress (MASSIVE mistake) and by the time we met up again for a sugary afternoon snack, it only took about three sips of tea before I started crying. In public. In the middle of Westfield. I know... I shouldn't have tried on any clothes, because I just felt so fat in all of them. And I definitely looked fat in all of them too. The boot shopping had also been unfruitful, so blurting out "I hate shopping so much. I really fucking hate it…" through tears and sniffs was the only thing I had the energy left to do. BF was excellent and talked me through it — he really is very good at helping me, I must say, especially in shopping-related incidents (he is a hardcore shopper). We worked out that I hate all my clothes and don't look the way I want to (this is a constant issue with me) and one particular thing he said really turned it around for me: "Why not just buy the clothes you see yourself in?". This might sound blimmin' obvious, but I have never worn the clothes I imagine myself strutting around in, mainly because I don't have the figure. 'Imaginiation Me' has much smaller hips than 'Real Me', so instead I wear what hides me a bit, or what is comfortable, or what I know, or what is safe. And this is where I have been going wrong. For years. FUCK.

Time to dig out my inner rock chick!

On the plus side, I was feeling so shit that I didn't even eat the nice pastry I was planning to. I had a 70cal Alpen bar instead, and some new-found enthusiasm. BF came round to a few shops and helped me pick some short boots (as they are trendy and cost less!) and made me realise the only reason I was buying long boots was so that they would go with clothes that I already own and dislike. Fucking stoopid. I ended up buying two pairs that I love, one of which is on the left. I wasn't going to get them, because the shop didn't do returns (I am a BIG returner — shopper's guilt), but then I just thought, "Sod it, I'll find something to wear with them cos they make me feel fucking AMAZING". It's just as well I did buy them because I later checked online — no size 6 pairs anywhere, and the ones I bought were also the last size 6 in the shop too. It was meant to be, people. 

Sorry — I'm a bit distracted by all the shopping excitement! I was feeling good when I got home (did I mention I treated myself to a new necklace as well?), and was also still quite full from lunch. So instead of having a big dinner, I had a buttered scone and a lemon puff and went to bed feeling happy and virtuous (although butter on baked goods is hardly something I should be patting myself on the back about). But anyway, no dinner — RESULT.

My mum and sister have just started 5:2 as well. I advised them that Monday and Thursday is a good split, but something had gone a bit wrong with their plans and instead they were fasting when I went over to visit. The reason this is bad news is because my mum cooks excellent food and I don't want her to be on a fast day eating soup when I head over there for my Tuesday dinner! Totally selfish, I know… Anyhow, they had eaten their meal, so it didn't bother them when I ate 2 enormous fajitas in front of them. I also ate four digestive biscuits right after with a cup of tea. I mean, who eats four?? I think I was mentally eating my mum and sister's share or something — even they were disgusted when they found out, so much so that my mum ratted me out to BF when we were both over there next. (Thanks mum.) The conversation later turned to snacking on 5:2 and my dad asked what the calorie count was for popcorn (we have an air-popper at home that he is obsessed with). Obviously, we did what we usually do and shunned him for his silly ideas (there is a reason he refers to the three of us as 'The Coven'), but actually, it's really not bad at all. 8g of popcorn is 31 calories — and that was about a cereal bowlful. It's an excellent snack if you get stuck!

By Thursday, the no-fasting guilt hit me, so I did actually squeeze in a fast day. Ish. I had a soup from EAT which was only 198 calories, and then a chicken and noodle salad from Sainsbury's that was really nice and only 292 calories — perfect if you are too lazy to cook. That day, I had 766 calories (I er, had a few snacks too…), which is more than I should have, but at least I tried fasting a bit. Especially as the next day it was my friend at work's birthday, and she was planning to bring in Krispy Kremes. 24 of the little bastards. On the right is a picture of one. My SECOND one. In a single day. Honestly, you can barely tell you have eaten them — they are like motherfucking clouds. I had already snorted half of it before thinking about taking a picture. Granted, it doesn't look that appealing here — sitting on a very unsexy paper towel, releasing it's grease everywhere (or is that my drool?)… But it was very appealing in my mouth. As was the Burger King meal I had on the way home, a bit pissed after said friend's birthday drinks. Sorry.

After all the extreme snacking, I was not sure I was going to lose any fucking weight, but somehow, I lost 0.8lbs. I was quite shocked, but I really think getting on the exercise bike has helped. Although it doesn't burn as many calories as running, I think that I was such a bad runner (along with the calf issue/asthma/butt pain) that my uber-slow jogging wasn't burning off that much anyway. And seeing as I have plenty of natural butt cushioning, I might as well make use of it. I'm a bit worried that as I have been going over my weekly calorie intake by quite a large amount for the last few weeks, it's all going to catch up with me in the next 7 days… I will need to be careful.

So, after losing this week (A-WOO-HOO!), I am now 11st 3.8lbs and the lightest I have been on 5:2, and probably the lightest I've been this year actually. I'm not entirely sure because I ripped up all my WW shit when I started 5:2… It's hardly momentous, but it's movement in the right direction. And that's what matters really. So next goal, get under 11st  — TALLY HO!

Week 16 & 17 : THIS IS SPARTAAAAAAAA!

This also has no relevance. But I was trying to think of something good and shouty and celebratory, and that was the very first thing that popped into my head. Kinda like the time when my boyf asked me what my wrestling entrance music would be (don't ask) and the first thing I started humming was the Hawaii Five-O theme tune (again, don't ask). I have never lived that down, mainly because it would be the shittest entrance music ever. Even I know that. 

Anyway… seeing as I'm being all shouty, you can probably work out that I lost weight these past two weeks — WOOOOOOOOOOO!  I'm pleased about this because I didn't want this post to be informing you about how I had lost 1.5lbs in Week 16, only to put it on again in Week 17, which is what I feared would happen. But in the second week, I lost 0.4lbs, so that's just under 2lbs in two weeks, which I am very happy with. 

Being back on fasting (and calorie counting, AND exercising) is working. I know the whole point of 5:2 is that you don't have to watch everything you eat, but maybe us foodies have to accept we're not lucky enough to get away with that. Chucking in a fast day here and there is the best way forward for me. I really haven't felt deprived these past two weeks, and I've still managed to lose — so that's a pretty good place for me to be in at the moment, especially as I often don't stick to the 500 calories one is supposed to on fast days... whoops.


Some nice fast day food I have eaten (if you want some ideas)

• Sainsbury's Hungarian Beef Goulash Soup — 201cals
• 1 red pepper, 150g peeled prawns, 30g light cream cheese, 100g mushrooms (all stir fried together, then stir in the cheese and add water until it melts) — 228cals
• Sainsbury's Chicken and King Prawn with Thai Noodles Salad — 267cals
• Dry Roasted Chickpeas, Bombay Firecracker Flavour (Holland & Barratt) — 88cals
• Fajitas (but with no wraps) — work out the chicken etc, but this is a great fast meal, even if you just use vegetables and the seasoning

One thing that has changed is that I am now an exercise bike convert. Yup — you heard it. The BF suggested I use his bike on numerous occasions, and I've been all "No, it hurts my bum…". But since having butt pains from running, I've had to reASSess. The bike hurts my butt a bit, but not as much as I would have thought. Although if you had seen me the very first day I gave it a go, you would have wondered what the fuck you had walked into…

So, first day on the bike. I was alone in the flat in the evening. I popped the TV on — a billion channels and FUCK ALL to watch, not even Friends!!! So I settled on Fat : A Year to Save My Life. Motivational perhaps? So I start cycling. I get about 10 minutes in and I am dripping with sweat and struggling, so I take a puff of my inhaler. 20 minutes in and I feel like I am actually going to throw up — I almost stopped because the nausea was so bad. But no, I was determined to keep going for my planned 30 minutes. The show starts getting emotional… I start sniffing and getting teary — FOR FUCK'S SAKE, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? NOW?? This exercise is FUCKING AWFUL and I am drained of all energy… so now I actually start to cry. This woman (after losing a ton of weight) is still bigger than me but has almost completed a 10k swim IN A FUCKING RIVER. I cry even more at my own pathetic attitude, but it ends up spurring me on. If she can do it, so can I, goddammit! I finally hit 30 minutes. Knackered, teary, sweaty and nauseous, I stumble off the bike and go and stand over the toilet for a bit in case I chunder. And lo, the Cry-cycle was born. (One friend very kindly pointed out that it could also be a Crisycle, because it definitely sounded like I was having a crisis… Thanks mate.) It was a blimmin' awful experience, but weirdly satisfying due to the sweat levels, and I have improved with each session. A glass of squash keeps the nausea at bay now and I do intervals to get the most out of it. I also get to use the crap sports bra that was loitering in my bra drawer, which is pleasing.

Me. On a bike. Unheard of. You know what else is unheard of? Me chucking away a doughnut. I KNOW! Crazy, right? But it is a true story. I panicked in Greggs and bought a Banana Shake Doughnut. It was gross. Not so much the flavour, but the amount of sugar that was in it. It was covered in bright yellow, sickly-sweet banana icing, and then filled with something very similar. I looked like the biggest dick ever walking down the street — this was not a discreet food item. It might as well have been waving and talking to people down the high street. I even tried to use the paper bag it came in to wipe the icing off the top, but that was messy as fuck and I was scaring the good people of Hitchin, who don't normally let weirdos like me walk around covered in fluorescent yellow goo. The BF was going to try it, but he got one whiff of the banana stench and decided against it. We stuffed it back into it's bag, chucked it in the bin and tried to forget about it. Which we did, until I fucking burped. That thing repeated on me all afternoon. Grim.

Another thing I realised: you don't need chilli cheese fries when you have a massive burger. In fact, plain fries are a much nicer accompaniment. I worked this out whilst out for dinner with the girls one night. I was having the chicken burger, which meant it was the perfect time to have the fully loaded chips, as I wouldn't be doubling up on my beef. Fuck me — by the end I was stuffed. There was so much chilli and hardly any chips to be. It was tasty, but I will not be doing that again — can't mess around with chips!

Urgh, I'm going to share this with you, but you won't like it. I emptied an old jar of Chinese curry sauce into the sink the other day. It was old so it kinda came out in two chunks. Unfortunately, those chunks landed in a pan that was full of water. Swear to god, if I hadn't seen that all happen, I would have honestly thought someone had taken a dump in my wok. It was vile. I almost took a picture of it, but then I realised that no-one wants to fucking see that. Or read about it. Sorry.

Week 14 : SHAMONE MOTHERFUCKERS!

Yup — lost just under two pounds! I am well chuffed. EXCEPT — (why does there always have to be an 'except'?) — the fact that it may not reflect what I have truly lost. I will explain after I have filled you in about this week…

So this week, I've really tried to get back to basics with the fasting. For my fast days, I've been sticking to around 500 calories, avoiding caffeine, not eating anything in the morning and tracking like a bitch on the weekends. If I'm honest, I still ate a lot on the weekends (just a bit more than the 2000 calorie guideline amount on each day), but I think I would have eaten loads more if I hadn't been keeping an eye on it. Bit disappointed I didn't exercise more but I will try harder next week.

My Monday fast was made up of salad with Bernard Matthews turkey (202 calories) and dinner was an absolutely delicious Chinese-style brown rice with vegetables (305 calories — next time I make it I'll take a photo and give you the recipe). So I was pretty happy with that total. On Thursday I had a Subway sandwich which came to 280 cals — I was researching this ALL FUCKING DAY to make sure I wasn't fucking my fast day up, and then I had a tuna salad for dinner, which made my total 517 cals. I also had a third of a Daim bar, which is embarrassing, but I just couldn't stop myself. So in the interest of weight loss, I am not going to buy anymore Daim bars until further notice. Even if they are only £1 a pack in Morrisons for a limited time only. ARGH.

The rest of my days were a lot higher in calories than I would have liked them to be, averaging at about 1650 cals. Not great, but I will try to be better next week (man, that is becoming my new fucking mantra…). 

On Friday, it was my boyfriend's birthday, so he was going for drinks after work. I decided that as I wouldn't be eating dinner, it was probably a good idea to line my stomach — cue a steak wrap with chips for lunch… and no mention of said wrap in MFP diary. It was delicious and totally worth it though, so I don't feel guilty about it. It was also someone at work's birthday that day and she had done some baking — cardamom and coffee cakes and a bakewell tart. I FUCKING LOVE bakewell tarts. I try to take any opportunity I get to eat them because my boyfriend doesn't like them and I don't want to get a Mr Kipling pack of six if it will mean just me eating them for a week. I mean, I have done that in the past, but the guilt is too much nowadays. So I enjoyed a slice with my tea in the afternoon. And then shamefully, I had another in the evening whilst I was hanging out in the office waiting for it to be 7.30pm. I think I can still see the box on the table as I type this… 

So yes, BF's birthday drinks. It was a lovely night filled with cocktails and fun and 6.30am trains back home… Man, I am too old for these kinds of shenanigans. Technically, so is he but he is much younger at heart than me! We both looked like death on the way home having been up for 24 hours, so a cheese and ham croissant and chocolate torsade at Euston station was a must before we got home and passed out. I think my control pants are still tossed somewhere in the living room… So, seeing as I had gone for a long time without any proper food and the alcohol had probably dehydrated me a bit, my weight loss for this week was potentially more than it should have been… But, I always go with what the scales say, so that is what we are sticking with.

Oh GOD — this is just too good!

I have discovered something that might be the death of me. Being a massive idiot and trying to do a food shop on a fast day, I ended up buying the item on the right. It's so fucking delicious. And addictive. And delicious. I have yet to spread it on anything — at the moment I just eat tiny spoonfuls of it straight out of the jar… I know this is bad, but I ain't the only one doing it!  

I thought it would be nice incorporated into some cupcake frosting, and lo and behold, someone more capable than me has already started doing stuff with it here: http://www.domesticsluttery.com/2013/04/baking-for-beginners-lotus-spread.html
Read the comments below the recipe — tonnes of crazy women (obviously — men tend to not eat stuff out of jars in a wild frenzy), all hooked. I rest my case. Get yourself down to Sainsbury's and grab a tub, just once. And I am totally making those biscuits.

Other craziness at work — someone else was having a birthday and in a bid to look amazing (she is already very slim) she was eating only 700 calories a day. It was only for one week, but we all gave her a lecture about it, because that blatantly sounds dangerous. I think it was also because a friend of hers had recently slimmed down a lot, so she was feeling bad that she wasn't being very disciplined with her own diet, so she took up this weird regime. I told her off, but since then, the idea has taken over my brain a bit and resulted in me trying to do something similar this week. Obviously, no one is worried about me, because I have virtually no willpower, but for the next week (especially as I'm eating out twice) and I am going to have very low days calorie days wherever I can fit them in. Not 500 calories (maybe 800 or so) but I would like to see what happens. I can almost guarantee it won't result in weight loss, because I will almost certainly cheat. But I am going to give it a go. 

Another reason it might not be a bad idea is that last Tuesday I took a bit of a funny turn. I was round my parent's at dinner, and about 3 hours after eating, I really thought I was going to be sick, ie. I went to hang out in the toilet just in case. That wasn't a bad plan, because let's just say things didn't feel great the other end either…! Now, for lunch that day I had eaten a fig, walnut and Gorgonzola salad. It was extremely tasty, but I did worry that the blue cheese might have been the problem. The next day I gave it to my friend because the thought of it was making me hurl. She concluded that seeing as I wasn't a veteran blue cheese-eater, I should have started out with something less hardcore, and I agree. Right, stomach should go back to normal now! Not so. A week later, and it still hasn't. I'm not sure what's wrong, but I don't really want to take anything for it in case it's helping my weight loss… That is so wrong, I know… In fact, the last two paragraphs are so wrong and make me sound like a dieting nutter, but it's not stopping me from eating and I am curious about how long it will go on for. It's an experiment. (I am in no way endorsing this behaviour, or advocating it. But I then I also have a blog to write every week and need all the fodder I can get!)

So essentially, next week is going to consist of me eating very little (apart from the odd calorie-heavy restaurant meal), and then shitting several times a day. It's exciting! We literally have no idea what is going to happen… 

Will I shit myself on my run? Dunno. 

Will I even make it out for a run? No idea. 

Will any of this actually help me lose any frigging weight? 8-ball says 'UNLIKLEY'. 

Week 12 : 7-Week Challenge

A shortish post this week, mainly because I am feeling sheepish about being very slack over the last few weeks. It's just me being lazy — pure and simple. It's not about the fast diet not working — I really think it works. I have just become very weak-willed for no apparent reason.

So this week, I ended up putting on 0.6lbs. It's not the end of the world, but I think it's safe to say that when trying to lose weight, one should not instead be getting fatter. Staying the same is one thing, but turning back into a roly-poly is quite another! My first fast day on Monday was absolutely horrendous. For some reason, I started getting into the habit of eating once I got into work, when I usually wait until lunch. And I think this has been partly responsible for my downfall (that and all my overeating). Starting the food train in the morning meant I would keep eating until lunch and then I would just have a massive panic at 4pm because I'd eaten all my calories. This happened to me on Monday morning when I decided to start off the day with not one, but TWO nutritious and delicious Oreos. I mean, can you think of anything worse to start your fast day with?? God, Michael Mosley would fucking kill me...

So I ate the Oreos, and for lunch I had a very nice hummus and vegetable stick platter from Morrisons. I am quite lazy, so this was ideal for me, but it wasn't particularly filling. For dinner, I rustled up a turkey curry, but ate more than I should have, so went over my calories. (Urgh, this amount of honesty is actually killing me and I feel very embarrassed, but I need to be truthful). Then, of course, I just felt shit about being so pathetic, so I ate some Kettle Chips. As you do. Oh, and according to MFP, 4 chocolate fingers. 1000 calories, my friends — ON A FUCKING FAST DAY. I crawled into bed early (although it's a wonder I could move at all after all that food) and felt as miserable as sin. I mean, the least you should do after eating all that is enjoy it, but no — I had a massive sulk instead. And whilst in bed, clutching my fat stomach under the duvet, I heard the voice of my BF singing whilst going to collect his dessert from the kitchen: "Mmmm… cheesy cake… cake with cheese… cheesy cake! Mmm-mmm-mmmmm! Cheesy cake…". 

On Tuesday I went to Pizza Express for dinner with my friends, and after much soul-searching, I decided against ordering the pizza I actually wanted that was over 1000 calories and opted instead for something lighter. I couldnt bring myself to order a Leggera — they depress the fuck out of me. But maybe that's why I'm not losing weight!

I have started doing a weights routine as well now. My arms look crap at the moment, so I feel a lot better pumping some iron! Had an awkward moment in the living room when my BF corrected my form whilst I was doing bicep curls, but we managed to get past it once I admitted I was being defensive. Also, I think I need to constantly be looking at Jodie Marsh’s body whilst exercising — I am seriously jealous. She looks amazing and I would love to look that buff. But with less effort, obviously. 

BF and I went out for a meal on Saturday night, which ended up being three courses. But, I was pleasantly surprised with the outcome. Whilst I finished my starter (goats cheese tart, delicious) I didnt actually finish my main or my dessert — YEY ME! This NEVER happens to me. I ordered the fish and chips because I'm a massive chip lover, but I was quite happy for my BF to take some chips off me and I even gave him the last bit of fish I was saving because it was the best bit. I know it's nothing to write home about given the weight that I put on, but normally, I would just shovel it in no matter what. Actually, I felt a bit sick halfway through — I think it was just the fact that it was all fried and my system freaked out.

I also decided to make fridge cake over the weekend, which was a stupid idea because it is so fattening. But I just wanted it. URGH. Probably because it's a week before Lady Time and I've realised that's when my cravings/mood swings start. I've tried to be more aware of these cycles because it makes life easier for my BF if he has a bit of warning about when I'm going to turn into a moody (yet weepy) bitch. It also makes it easier to understand why my thighs can suddenly become HUGE overnight. Seriously, I woke up on Tuesday and there were two new massive saddlebag-shaped lumps that weren't there the day before! I know I haven't been losing, but I have felt pretty good about my body otherwise. Well, that's my theory…

So anyway, this week wasn't great. And actually, given that I have only kinda got my arse into gear like 10 minutes ago after seeing a formerly fat friend's skinny arm on Facebook, next week might not yield great results either! But I'm meeting up with my uni friends in 7 weeks, so that is the perfect event to use as a goal. I've coasted along a bit, but it would be really nice to get under 11st by then — and that is only 14 fasts! Piece of piss, right? RIGHT?

Week 11 : "I'm Late! I'm Late!...

... And I've put on weight!
No time to say hello, goodbye!
I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!"

Yes, sorry for the delay getting this post out. I really don't know why I didn't do it on Monday. But by now, you may have worked out that I put on this week. Probably because like in Alice In Wonderland, I am a big girl who basically just sees "EAT ME" written on everything… I packed on 1.2lbs — but I am totally OK with that. I was still fighting off sinusitis last week, making a very half-arsed attempt at fasting and absolutely no attempt at any exercise. So I was expecting this result.

What I was not expecting, was to arrive at the office last Monday to find clotted cream, jam and scones at work (brought in for a birthday) along with a million other snack foods. That was hard to deal with on a fast day, even though I had recently eaten the Scone Cake Monstrosity (see previous post). But I did manage to resist until the next day, which is something given how shit I was feeling. Oh, but I did eat three giant pretzels that day. And by three, I obviously mean five.

The rest of the week is a bit of a blur I'm afraid… All I wanted to do was eat nice things that felt comforting, although him indoors stopped me from going down the chippy, which initially I resented massively, but then was thankful afterwards. Sort of. And I really craved curry, probably for the strong flavours because I couldn't taste much, but I couldn't be arsed to make one, and my parents had made chicken with salad when I went round to visit. Not what I had in mind, but I kept telling myself it was better for me and really healthy, blah, blah…

However, by the weekend, I knew I would be well enough to re-start my new exercise programme. So you can imagine my excitement when Saturday finally came — at last, I can go running! Two weeks of feeling crap, but now I could run past the cows with wind in my hair, a burning sensation in my calves and sweat dripping from my brow — hallelujah!

I did nothing. And then I did nothing on Sunday either, deciding to sleep in until 1pm instead. Shame. On. Me. I felt really guilty by the end of the weekend, so naturally I drowned my sorrows/sabotaged myself even further with some pasta and garlic bread. Punishment Pasta, that's what it was…

I think my initial fasting excitement has waned a bit — it's understandable. But I think I just need to get a few good weeks of weight loss under my belt and I will be re-enthused (is that a word?). I have been a bit up and down so I think it's just about getting back into it, which doesn't really feel like an awful, terrible imposition on my life at all. In general, I feel good about my body — I am especially liking my legs right now — so overall, I think that's more important. My body looks better and I feel better about it than I did three months ago, so that's good enough for me right now.

Although next week will be Week 12 — time to have a review and get the measuring tape out I think…

Week 9 : Foodie Heaven, Dieting Hell

I knew this week was going to be difficult, so I'm not sad about the fact that I only lost a paltry 0.2lbs. In fact, given the circumstances, I'm fucking lucky I didn't put on! This week was going to be a challenge from the very start (I barely counted anything on my app), because there were going to be three 'eating out' events. And none of them involved me making particularly sensible choices.

My Monday fast was not as good as it could have been (605 calories, whoops!), but it also wasn't a total washout. So I drew a line under it and moved on. On Tuesday, a colleague and I went out for lunch — here we come, vegetarian Chinese buffet! We both regretted this decision three hours later when we were still uncomfortably full. I initially thought that the fact there was no meat involved would mean the calories wouldn't be as bad. But they still have spring rolls. And (veggie) prawn toast. And tempura vegetables. And chow mein. It turned out to be just too much food for lunch, so I won't be doing that in a hurry again.

Obviously, I didn't snack in the afternoon, and I didn't eat a very big dinner. The original plan was to eat NO DINNER, but we were having fajitas and I wanted some. My rationale was "If I eat now, I will only eat half as much as usual, because I am not that hungry. If I don't eat now, I guarantee I will be at hungry at 10pm, and then I will eat a whole big proper meal, on top of my massive lunch". Makes sense, right? Yes, of course it does. So I had two fajitas only (I accidentally put some bad cheese in my first one — grim. But I still ate it…), and then I thought I would have a little bit of cheese cake.

Now, I tell no word of a lie — we had two cheesecake pieces in the fridge (vanilla and billionaire's). I took a TINY piece off each. Each piece was about the length of my finger and not an awful lot wider — I wish I had taken a picture to show you how little they were. They looked like the kind of mini desserts you get with a coffee in a restaurant. In total, they weighed 100g. I was chuffed that I had been so good. So then I thought I had better tot up my calories on myfitnesspal. 50g of Tesco Finest Billionaire's Cheesecake is… wait for it… a WHOPPING 220 calories. I could not believe it. Seriously. It was so titchy! It killed me to press 'SAVE' on my app… 50g of New York Vanilla cheesecake only came up marginally better at 180 calories. I begrudgingly added that to my diary as well. So very, very fucked off, but I should have checked first. Whilst 5:2 is about having a bit of what you fancy and getting on with your life, I think cheesecake, along with garlic bread, must only be eaten on special occasions. The only thing that made me feel slightly better that evening is that I kinda had the shits — too much chilli oil at lunch? This is what constitutes as good news in my world.

So Tuesday, Blog Mate and I had planned a meet up/food fest. We had been perving on the menu for Shake Shack in Covent Garden all day, only to arrive and find out that a) the queue was fucking massive and b) it was more like a fancy McDonald's (ie. you get everything on a tray at once and sit down) rather than a place where two school friends could sit for ages and have a good old natter. So, with heavy hearts, we decided to go to Byron Burger instead.

Clearly, I was feeling the loss, because I felt really sad about not getting the food I had planned in my head — "Will we go again? Are you sure you want to eat here? We could always go back there…". But Blog Mate made it all better by assuring me we would definitely go back once the summer had passed and the tourists had fucked off, which was a brilliant idea. The menu at Byron didn't excite me particularly, but instead of going for the double cheeseburger (because it would be massive and fill the sad Shake Shack-shaped hole in my soul), I went for the chilli burger. And you know what? It was friggin' delicious. In fact, I got half way through it and was very thankful that I didn't go for the double burger (it was called The Big B — another reason I didn't order it) because it would have been too, well, big. I got to the last three mouthfuls of my burger and thought "Hmm, I could leave the rest of this…", but that just seemed like a really, really, stupid thing to do, so I finished it. Eheheheheh.

Seeing as none of the desserts were that appealing, we hunted down somewhere we could have some ice cream. We turned down a street, which I mistakenly thought was the same street we visited when we went to THAT teacher's restaurant. Laughing, my friend pointed out we visited his restaurant in Soho, and we were now very clearly in Covent Garden, so it definitely wasn't and we were safe. Silly me! So we had a giggle, and continued walking down it. But then, my face dropped. There, in the distance, I noticed a restaurant sign… No. Fucking. Way. Maybe it wasn't his restaurant? We got a bit clos... No, it DEFFO was. HUGE FUCKING CUNTS. WHY IS HE EVERYWHERE??? It's like I have have some kind of homing device… URGH. YES SIR, I AM 31 AND HAVE DONE NOTHING WITH MY LIFE YET! YES, I KNOW YOU STARTED YOUR HUGE EMPIRE AT THAT AGE AND I CANT EVEN FIND A PLACE THAT SELLS ICE CREAM, EVEN THOUGH I HAVE AN IPHONE AND GOOGLE MAPS! BUT SERIOUSLY, FUCK OFF!

Eventually — after a small but public spaz-out — we found an ice cream place. Now, I'm not a big ice cream eater. I like it, but I can't eat a lot of it in one sitting. I just wanted one scoop of ice cream, but of course, this place didn't do just one — it was two scoops minimum. Now, this is a dilemma that all people who are trying to diet will have had at some point. Do I ask for one scoop and just pay the price for two? Or do I get two scoops, eating what I can and then just wasting the rest? The tightwad in me went for the first option, which was probably the wrong one. (I forgot my mantra of not being a human dustbin.) I ate all my mango sorbet but left about half of the ice cream, which I made sure I didn't eat by violently schmooshing a napkin into the pot. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, the world is against us and wants us to just get fat. We have to take these measures.

Thursday's fast was great — I was slightly under my 500 calories, which made a change! And then on Friday, it was my five-year-anniversary dinner. Obviously, I was not going to diet that evening, although I did purposefully ignore the cheesecake for dessert. But again, a three-course meal proved to be too much, as we were both quite stuffed. The service was excellent and everything we ate was absolutely delicious (FYI, I had chicken wings, steak with frites and rice pudding brulee). But I did feel bad for my bf — I got a bit tipsy on one glass of pink prosecco and just waffled on at him about what I had been watching on 4od for fucking AGES. Oh yes, and then I got teary telling him about a particularly sad bit in an episode of the sensitively-named Why Don't You Speak English? — what a total tool.

God, I need to stop typing but I am just on the last bit, I promise! I have been fucking exceptional with my exercise this week — four runs and 90% of my Davina DVD — not too shabby! (I couldn't do any more lunges, I just couldn't.) I am in a lot of muscular pain today, but it feels goooooooooood. And it stopped me from buying a two-pack of cream doughnuts last night. They were on offer, but I managed to convince myself that a saving of 42p was not worth the 550 calories they would cost me on my fat arse later down the line.

My sister is coming back from Japan after a year of being away, so that's quite exciting. She has missed salt and vinegar crisps and hummus (I've eaten a shedload of both), so I will be take those round to her this week. I also have an evening invite to a wedding on Friday, but other than that, this week is pretty clear week event-wise. Which means I should see a decent loss by the end of it. I am going to say 1.5lbs… I might be pushing my luck a bit, but I reckon I can do it.

Week 7 : NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! NOT BEFORE THE WEDDING!

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.

Week 6 : "Welcome to Dumpsville… Population: You."

Just so you know, I did not get dumped. But I tell you this much — if I did get dumped, I would not be writing this blog anymore. I would be out there, running down the street, flaunting my too-depressed-to-eat skinny body in hot pants and a boob tube. 

No, I'm talking about a different kind of dumping, people. (Don't worry — it won't be for very long.) I weighed myself after my second fast day last week and my weight was exactly the same as the week before. Given how much I had eaten over the weekend, plus eating out at work, I was quite content with being 11st 5.2lbs. At least this way when I weighed myself on Saturday (my official day), I wouldn't be shocked at the results. 

As an aside (and an excuse to squeeze a picture in, cos that's what blog reader want, apparently), I believe in keeping fast day meals simple — I don't want to be faffing around with food when I am not free to just chuck stuff in. You can eat what you want all week, so two days should not need to be sexed up! This was some lovely spiced basa fish with griddled courgettes and mushrooms I had — very low in calories, so perfect for fasting :-)

This is even better with smoked basa…

So Saturday arrived and I (officially) got on the scales. 11st 4.6lbs. What the hell? After having a Chinese takeaway last night?? Man... OK... Just over half a pound is good, but how could I make it better? Hmm, could I try going to the loo…? Would that make a difference? Worth a try, surely? Well, I'm glad I tried, because boy, did that poo pay off! 11st 4lbs — IN YOUR FACE, FAT BODY!

There is a part of me that feels slightly dishonest doing a Weigh Day evacuation because I don't always try for a Number 2 before I get on the scales every week. But then I thought, "Fuck it — I'm in the fat-weighing business, not the poo-weighing business. It's not cheating!" And it's not like the old days where I used to pop a bunch of Sennakot before bed and pray to have a massive shit the next day… ANYWAY. Poo stories aside — I lost over a pound. I win. The End. 

So I was feeling excellent on Saturday. And when you feel excellent, you want to do all you can to continue feeling this way. So, time for some exercise! I had nipped out earlier in the day and stepping out the front door was like entering an oven, so running was out of the question — I didn't want to miss my friend's birthday celebrations suffering from heat stroke. So I decided to do my Davina Power of 3 DVD. It had been well over a year since I had done it (I used to do it religiously) but at least exercising in the living room was a bit cooler. 

The warm up was fine, but then I started doing the leg workout. The moves were feeling intense. Too intense. Every squat felt like someone was kicking me in my butt cheek — HARD. Halfway in, I decided that this was a stupid idea, especially as I was planning to wear proper heels for the first time in year later that night — I really didn't need jelly-leg syndrome! So I did some arm work and then went off to ice some birthday cupcakes, naturally.

After stuffing our face with three fajitas, we headed out to my friend's birthday. Excellent night out (although we were all sweating like little bitches), lots of nice snacks (that I didn't need but ate anyway) and I didn't fall and break my ankles, which is my constant fear when in heels — RESULT! As we didn't get a chance to grab a hot dog after the club, I rustled up more fajitas when we got in at about 3.30am, as well as defrost some dhal — never underestimate the effort a drunk foodie will put into a worthy post-club snack! Finally, it was time for bed.

The next morning —OH DEAR GOD. I could not move. Seriously, everything was aching. Thighs, calves, butt, hips, triceps — everything. It took me ages to get out of bed and I actually felt like I had been in a fight. FUCKING DAVINA!! (I am still in pain as I write this.) However it reminded me how good this DVD is, so I am going to try and squeeze it in once a week.

Having eaten all that food before bed, I didn't have a hangover at all the next day, so it should have been a good day food-wise. Unfortunately, there was no proper food in the house, so I gorged on cakes, biscuits and crisps ALL DAY. Not very satisfying or nutritious really. And it means I have to really be careful this week, as well as being on top of my exercise. In fact, my new technique when I am feeling tired on my run is to grab a handful of my saddlebags — honestly, that keeps me moving! (Although I probably look a bit mental.)

I have lost just over 8lbs in 6 weeks. My next goal is 10lbs (because it's a nice round number) and then after that it will be to get under 11st. If things keep going at this rate, a bit more of the wardrobe should start to fit at last. Roll on dinner with the girls!

Week 4 & 5 : A Happy Ending (but not that kind)

Sorry for missing a post last week. Work was manic and then I started my weekend early, so was too busy mooching. But I'm here now to fill you in.

Week 3 on 5:2 and things seemed to be going OK. I was really determined to lose weight having stayed the same the week before, so I tried to be good and stick within my calorie limit. I took a deep breath and got on the scales (then exhaled quickly — might make me heavier) — I had stayed EXACTLY the same. Well, actually, I had lost 0.2lbs, which I was going to take, thank you very much. So two weeks of staying the same... Was it finally time to accept that the fast diet was too slow for me? (Oh my GOD, how Carrie Bradshaw was that?? Shame.)

Hmm… I wasn't quite ready to give it up, so I decided to peruse the last few weeks on MFP and see what differed from week to week… Quite a lot, it turned out.

Week 1 = 671 calories over weekly target
Week 2 = 1653 calories over weekly target
Week 3 = 1869 calories over weekly target
Week 4 = 2215 UNDER weekly target, but oh wait, that's because I didn't even log what I had eaten over Saturday and Sunday…

I also realised I hadn't run at all in Week 4… Suddenly, the reason for staying the same the past two weeks was blatantly obvious. RIGHT. Week 5 needed to be different. I had to stick to a daily limit, not go over my 500 calories on a fast day and get back running. I think I was feeling a little down that week (for no apparent reason), but unless I was going to cut out eating altogether (ha, fat chance), depression was not going to shrink my jean size. 

So Week 5 commenced. I stuck to all my rules, went running, upped my protein and even cut down carbs. After my first fast day in the week, I weighed myself, filled with excitement about all the good changes I had made…

STILL THE EXACT SAME FUCKING WEIGHT. Cunting hell — fuck this stupid diet! I was getting quite annoyed now. I didn't know how much more I could tweak the bloody thing. I ranted to Blog Mate, who tried to bring me some comfort with kind words like "it's probably just lady time weight", or "you WILL lose this week, I promise" and "just stick with it — it took time to put on, so it will take time to come off…". But I was having none of it. I was feeling fed up and just wanted to eat EVERYTHING. But I didn't. I figured I would at least wait until weigh day, and then cry in a heap on the floor. So after my second fast day, I got on the scales.…

LOST A MOTHERFUCKING POUND! BOO-YA!

I was so chuffed. It was a clear, whole pound and meant I'd lost just shy of half a stone in 5 weeks. This made me happy. So happy that I went out for a long run in the searing midday heat — not one of my smartest moves, but I did a frickin' good job, despite still sweating several hours later. So after all this positivity, the best thing to do was to be good over the weekend and try and maintain that superb feeling, right? Wrong. SO WRONG.

I play a gig in Colchester every year and all my friends always come up to watch, but they are mainly there for the excellent barbecue food and delicious cakes. And I happily join in. At the end of the day, 5:2 is supposed to enable you to have an evening of food and wine without freaking out, so I was not going to try and diet. However, I did want to try and listen to my stomach so that I wouldn't look like I had eaten the whole barbecue stock by the time I got on stage, desperately pushing my tum in with my bass.

My food schedule (seriously, can I ever hope to be thin?) was burger, veggie food, hot dog, cake. But I didn't fancy the hot dog come the evening, so I skipped it — yey me! I had a very dry piece of coconut cake later — I probably shouldn't have finished it, but it was there. We got back home in the early hours of the morning, and at about 2am sitting in bed, I thought I would tally everything up. FUCK. ME. OK, I thought I deserved a massive pat on the back for skipping the hot dog, but buggery fuck — I should have skipped A LOT more!

I forgot I had eaten a bit of pasta before we had left — 273 calories. 

I had also had a cup of tea and some Mini Max cereal for breakfast — 167 calories. 

It had slipped my mind, but when we stopped for petrol on the way up, I bought a packet of Scampi Fries and had a McDonald's Iced Mocha - 437 calories. 

I had also drunk 3 glasses of apple juice and a Pimms — 492 calories. 

And even whilst I was entering all of these into MFP, I was eating crisps from a big, bottomless bag — 550 calories. (Incidentally, Big Bottomless Bag will end up being my  nickname if I don't stop gorging.)

Grand total? 3500 calories for the day. 

And there you have it — what happens if I am not counting every single thing that goes in my giant gob. Actually, I was ready to go "Look blog readers, I didn't even eat much and this is how calories are mean to me", but then I realised that this IS a big list of food! But I'm just saying: it's easy to eat way more than you should, especially when none of it is very nutritious. 

The next day my boyfriend lost a bet (he thought Andy Murray wouldn't win the tennis — and he is Scottish!!) so he had to buy dinner. Dinner was a double pepperoni pizza with salad, garlic bread and Fanta Zero… Let's just call it a weekend of fun eh? I didn't eat my share of pizza because I was full, nor did I eat my Cornetto for dessert, so I must have been really fucking full.

This morning, I could barely walk because I was so bloated and uncomfortable. Honestly, I looked about 5 months pregnant — it actually scared me. A bit of peppermint tea sorted it out and, truth be told, I am very glad to be fasting today. I have a Morrisons soup for lunch and turkey and vegetables with Old El Paso Smokey Fajita seasoning for dinner — it's my new favourite meal. 

So I am going to stick with this diet. I just need to accept sometimes things might move slowly. As long as I don't put on any weight, it means things are going in the right direction. It feels sustainable. Yes, it has required more tweaking than Dr Mosley might have suggested, but that's not the end of the world really. It still feels like a realistic way to lose this weight, and I actually feel dead nice at the moment :-)

Frickin' Fasting…

 I REALLY don't feel like fasting today. 

I don't know what's wrong with me — it could be a lot of guilt from not exercising this week (I'm injured, aren't I?) but I have woken up this morning in a massive grump and not in the mood for it. But I will do it — I am not going to sabotage myself. Yet. I've had a cup of proper tea though… I only drink herbal tea on a fast day usually, but I figured having a proper tea might a) put me in a better mood and b) stop me from going mental on a packet of biscuits. Which, helpfully, I can see out the corner of my eye.

For lunch today I have Glorious Sunny Thai Chicken soup — 204 calories for half the tub. It’s bloody good! It's coconutty and full of flavour, but I like to water it down a touch to make the most of it, as it's quite thick. Water is calorie-free, right? RIGHT???

For dinner, I'm trying out something I found at this blog www.fastdays.wordpress.com. We have quite different writing styles (I have a potty mouth, she does not), but Kirsty has been doing this diet for longer than me and has a few good recipes on her blog. One absolute BEAUT of a find was Waitrose's Prosciutto Cappelletti — half a pack is a mere 166 calories. Now, in the Michael Mosley book, he does say to avoid pasta, bread and potatoes on a fast day, so I won't be eating this all the time. But on a day where one is struggling (much like today!), it certainly comes in handy. I had it on Tuesday with some griddled courgettes, mushrooms and a tiny bit of pesto and it was really delicious. 

Not a great photo, but taking 'awesome pictures' was not my
priority once it was ready! It was Drool City behind that lens…

Chillis are rather nice to eat on this diet because they make you fill up on water (although I think they made my tum go a bit weird on the last occasion). And this meal also made me discover the joy of a griddled mushroom too — who knew?

For me, it's quite important that my evening meal is nice. Soup at lunch is fine, but I would recommend trying to make your fast day dinner as nice as you can. I had a weird kitchen situation on Tuesday where my BF actually helped me come up with a fast day meal! He likes to eat Morrison's Basa Fillets and discovered they are only 228 calories per pack! Which is really good because it means we can eat the same meal on a fast day next week, which is nice because we have been eating separately a lot recently (because of fasting, not because we hate each other's guts). I try to avoid lingering looks at his roast potatoes or chips or Chinese-style pork chops when I can't eat much, but I think I'm getting better at it, which is good ("You can eat chips tomorrow, you can eat chips tomorrow…"). So fish and roast vegetables next week will be a welcome change!

OK, just gotta keep busy and get through this bastard day…

Week 2 : I'm A Loser, Baby...

Sorry people - I know I was supposed to post on Monday! But I decided to do some actual work yesterday... well, sort of.

Anyway, it was good news on weigh day — I lost just over 2lbs. WOO BLIMMIN' HOO. So I'm pleased, but I had better not get too cocky because it's still early days of this diet and things are sure to slow down very soon. In fact, I did a fast yesterday and weighed myself this morning, because it's always nice to see the scales at a ridiculously low figure when you've barely eaten anything the day before — but I was up 0.5lbs…

Now, this really isn't a big deal in the long run, but it did make me thing that I need to be a bit careful this week. I have been eating 2000 calories each day, which is probably a bit much for me. Not because I am struggling to eat it (that is fucking easy as pie! Mmm… pie… *drool*), but because my body is already well-padded and doesn't need to eat that much. I know the whole point of this diet is to not count calories and realise when you are full, but I am not that enlightened yet. And given that I can put away a LOT more food than most people, I think it's a safer idea to keep an eye on things. 

I was reading another woman's blog about this diet and she lost nothing over 4 months because she was literally eating whatever she wanted on her feed days. Now, if you have long-term problems with your weight/are a massive foodie/have an unhealthy relationship with food (or like me, have all three of those motherfucking issues), eating whatever you want is not going to work. Because what you want to eat is almost certainly bad for you, full of fat and salt, and so delicious that you won't stop at one. FAT.  Er, I mean, FACT — sorry.

For example, I got into work at 10.15am today, and so far I've had a cup of tea, a banana, a cheese muffin with spread, a stem ginger crinkle and a WW coconut yoghurt. And it is only 11.31am. And I had to seriously stop myself from consuming any more food. To be fair, I went to Zumba yesterday (ON A FAST DAY!) and then this morning I went for a run, so I was ravenous. Actually, fuck it — who am I kidding? I know full well that I could eat that much on any given morning, exercise or no exercise. And seeing as I managed not to eat until 3.30pm yesterday, it is clearly just about self-control — or the lack of it! Ahem. 

Oh yes, so I attended a Zumba session last night. Actually, it was less Zumba and more me tripping over my apparently GIANT fucking feet for an hour. MY. GOD. Seriously, if you had seen me shake my rhythmless arse at that class, you would have questioned my credentials as a bass player. Firstly, I don't like world music of any kind, so am obviously really pleased that Zumba music tends to be of that genre. I cannot dance to save my life, so having to do merengue and salsa steps was fantastic. The fabric on my new running leggings meant that the long vest I was wearing to cover my crotch and butt kept sliding up to my stomach every 3 seconds, which was great. The overly-perky teacher only had 5 of us in her class, so she made a lot of eye contact with each of us, which I am a big fan of because it definitley doesn't make me feel awkward. And to top it all off, we were dancing in a windowed room within a gym, so people doing ACTUAL PROPER EXERCISE could see me flailing about like an absolute twat — FAB-U-LOUS. On the plus side, no one was shouting at me to “Get nasty! Get nasty!” like last time… *SIGH* 

Yeah — I'm going back next week.