Snacking: The Death of Me

Due to my obsession with crisps and other savoury snacks, I have had to implement a ban on them outside the weekend. This was very difficult for me, but it seriously needed to be done, and the conversation below kinda nudged me in that direction…

Me: Cock, I shouldn't have eaten those peanuts… but I was hungry.
BF: Er, where did those peanuts come from?
Me: I bought them today when I was in Tesco.
BF: I thought you only went to Tesco to buy a can of sweetcorn?
Me: Well, yes, but then I saw these were on deal in the snack aisle…
BF: But why were you in the snack aisle?
Me: (Getting irritated) Well, I was wandering round all the aisles... 
BF: But why wer… Ohhhhhhhhh. This is what you do, isn't it? 
Me: What?
BF: Well, I hate food shopping, so when I go to a supermarket, I just want to get my item, and get out as quickly as possible. You actually like food shopping, so you wander around the WHOLE shop.
Me: Yeah… but I still shouldn't have bought those peanuts.
BF: No, you shouldn't have.
Me: Hmmm.

I don't know if this makes my BF sound like a hard-arse, but he really isn't… Well, sometimes, but not on this occasion! I was starting to get irritated with his questions, but I genuinely hadn't realised how differently we view going food shopping. From my perspective, it was a bit "DUDE! Why the fuck wouldn't I be wandering around the whole shop?? What if I see something amazing I want to try? What if something is cheap?". But it's his idea of absolute hell. That is why I am a foodie and he is not. He is very much a 'work to live, eat to live' kinda guy. And whilst he does very much enjoy eating a piece of delicious fridge cake or a really tasty burger, he doesn't live for it the way I do. And so comes the second issue with my rampant snack addiction — I end up roping him into it too. 

For a number of weeks, I got into the bad habit of having a little snack whilst cooking dinner. I am always (psychologically) starving when I get in, and I am straight in the cupboard, grabbing the nearest bag of sharer crisps. I know I'm not supposed to eat them, but how can I alleviate this awful guilt? I know — "Hey, do you want some crisps…?". To be fair, the answer is quite often "No thanks, I'm alright", but I know that once he comes into the kitchen and sees me munching on them, he will grab one, just for a taste. Then he will grab the bag out of my hand, and then eat quite a lot of them. Guilt alleviated.

Now, anyone who knows my BF will know that he is of slim frame. Hell, until last year or so he was wearing clothes that were sized 'XS', whereas now he is just 'S'. But BF also has the fastest metabolism ever. I mean, it's not good to eat loads of crap, but if anyone's body can take it, his can. But I don't want my bad eating habits rubbing off on him. It's not fair, especially as he wouldn't even buy bad stuff in the first place. So, to address this, I've tried to have a weekday snack ban. I can't cut them out, but I can save them as a treat to look forward to, as can he, because I really I don't want to be his feeder.

Strangely, I do seem to be sticking to my new rule. I managed to not go mental in Sainsbury's on a fast day (not quite sure how, but I did!) which just required a lot of breathing and a 'think of the bigger picture' mantra. But one day this week I was really tired. Inexplicably tired. I still have absolutely no idea what was wrong with me, but I don't remember ever feeling that tired after a day's work. My eyeballs were hurting, I had a headache, and I really struggled to stay awake at work or on the bus. However, on my way home, I found myself slowly-but-surely being drawn towards the bright green lights of one of my favourite supermarkets — Waitrose.

Now, I don't actually have a MASSIVE love for it, but you don't see a Waitrose that often, do you? So when you see one, it's a bit exciting because you know that whilst everything will be overpriced, it will all be delicious. So in I went, lurching around like a zombie until I hit the snack aisle. I have to say, I was rather impressed with my willpower at this point, because somehow I managed to leave not with a bagful of fancy cheese crackers or makhni poppadoms, but with some low fat breadsticks, a jar of chilli pickled onions and a really bizarre chorizo jam. I KNOW.

Some of you might say "Well, if you had true will power, you wouldn't have gone inside in the first place". To you people, I say "Fuck off". This is my journey. For me, that was pretty fucking restrained. Low fat breadsticks are not fun, so I knew I wouldn't eat a lot of them. Also, pickled onions would provide that salty, spicy hit I am always looking for when I get in, but with a trillionth less of the calories. The chorizo jam, well, that just seemed like a fun and interesting item to try. And it was, as you can see from the packaging! 

It took me ages to get the 'Eat 17' reference… Nob.

I would recommend it. They also do a bacon version that I could be tempted with, although £3 a pop for quite a small jar is a bit much. Maybe it would make a good gift. 

So, with all this being good and snack-cutting-down and weight-lifting and exercise-biking, one would think I would have lost some weight. Or one would think I would have at least stayed the same. But no motherfuckers — I WENT UP TWO CUNTING POUNDS. Now, if I hadn't read this article on Nerd Fitness (excellent site by the way) I think I would have been quite upset. Also, I know when I've had a shit week, and this really wasn't one, so I definitely don't believe I have just piled on 2lbs of pure fat. Heck, I didn't diet AT ALL during Christmas and I only put on 3lbs! So this is bollocks. However, I also don't think I've put on 2lbs of muscle either (though that would be fucking sweet!). So it's probably a combination of water weight and muscle. But mainly water, probably. I hope. However, seeing as I have about 25lbs to lose, I will be keeping an eye on my weight just to make sure it doesn't keep going up — that would be bad! Maybe it's finally time to pay attention to the body fat read-out on the scales…

In other news, I'm really enjoying being aware of my muscles and the feel of a post-workout ache. I can feel my muscles getting bigger and stronger with each session, so whether the scales go up or down, I know for a fact that changes are taking place. Now I just need the fat to fuck off from my body so I can reveal the Xena-Warrior-Princess physique that I am clearly hiding under all this chub.

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.

Getting There… Really Fucking Slowly

Yo peeps. Told you I was going to get back back on the blogging train, so here I am! It has taken a bit of effort to be honest, but you know what they say — it's not worth having if it's easy… yadah yadah. 

OK, so for a second week I have lost weight, which is good news. It wasn't an awful lot, to be fair (0.6lbs), but it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick, as my dad always says. I also did 30mins of exercise every day except Saturday, so I'm pleased about that. It definitely helps that when I lean forward for my fast intervals on the exercise bike, my thighs nudge my stomach, which is sure to get any girl spinning hard! I've managed to get up to 12.5k in distance, so I will just keep trying to improve that. Although one thing that is worrying me slightly is the increasing size of my quad muscles. They are starting to bulge, people — I can see the corners of them sticking out through my leggings! I know I am not going to turn into Chris Hoy overnight, but I do have concerns, as I can build muscle pretty easily. Hmm, I really should do something with that…

Speaking of getting tonk, I have also found a new weights routine that I want to start — this was the website if you are interested: http://www.niashanks.com/. I was going to start it next week (new for February), but I literally have just decided (whilst typing this up) that I am going to start it tomorrow. The sooner the better, surely? Plus, I might need a week to tinker with it as it involves barbells and all sorts, which should make for some amusing stories if nothing else. I must remember to not load them up too heavy, as when I first tried using a barbell I damaged my back by lifting a little too much. Yup lady-bros — I am quite strong! Even the BF is surprised at my strength when I'm trying to stop him doing non-sexual wrestling moves on me. Although I have had to tap out on several occasions, followed by some teariness.

BF and I went to our local Wetherspoons this weekend and ended up eating there, and it was quite a pleasant surprise to see that their menu has the calorific value of every single dish beside it. I was quite impressed, and it did actually steer me away from their hot dog section (DAMMIT!). It also meant I couldn't lie to BF about my choice being healthy when it blatantly isn't, not that I EVER do that, of course. 

I love highlighting.

We also had a rather strange discussion about my weight chart on the Bakerloo line, which is so fucking noisy that half of bloody London must know how much I weigh. Now, anyone who knows me will know I always make a new weight chart every time I start a new diet. It's an obsession. In fact, if I put as much time and effort into actually losing weight rather than faffing with a variety of weight-loss printouts, I would be a size 8 by now. True story. The issue I have with my scales is that they give me my weight in stones, then pounds, and then some decimalisation, which I find weird. Surely it should then be in ounces? I think the main problem is that at WW, the scales would only ever round to a half pound, which keeps things nice and simple when you write them in your little book. But now my home scales go 11st 10lbs 0.7 = what the fuck is that??? It's not a full pound, it's not half a pound, so how do I chart it? Only shade in half a square? Although BF did point out that ounces would be even more complicated, so I guess I just wish my scales would round up/down to something meaningful. I just feel that if I round up, it's cheating, and if I round down it's disheartening. And I can't change it to kilos, becuase when it comes to my fatness, I think in stones (thank you WW). BF did say I had no business charting a loss of 0.2lbs (FUCK YOU BUDDY!), but I like to because it just feels like things are moving in the right direction at least. So above is my new double chart (one for actual weight loss, one for a nice round number guide). It's mainly necessary because I don't seem to be able to do basic maths. Needless to say, I have never completed a chart, ever… BUT THIS COULD BE THE ONE! It could be. 

In other news, you know you get those selfies where people take a picture of themselves but don't notice something weird in the background? Well, that TOTALLY happened to me last week. I wanted to show my sister what a difference wearing under-eye concealer makes, so as I was doing my make-up in the morning (which I always do without any clothes on — sorry for the imagery everyone) I took a picture of myself shoulders up. I looked at it and thought "Phew, no-one can see my nakedness anywhere — that would have been bad!". Great. Went to my mum's that evening and got the picture out and something made me just check it one more time before I showed my sister… AND THANK FUCK I DID. I don't know how I missed it the first time, but I looked at the picture and you could CLEARLY see the reflection of my fat, naked back in the mirror behind me, PLUS some boob. It was not flattering. There were fat rolls. There was my broad back. It looked like a walrus with big hair was sitting upright on my bed. If my mum had seen that — and those of you that have met my mother know what I am talking about — she would have never, ever, EVER let me live it down. So, I just put my phone away and did a demonstration on my sister's own dark circles, which was probably more effective anyway. 

I went a bit over my average daily calories last week, so this week I'm going to really try to keep the average down, and hopefully see a better loss this week. Unless my new weights routine has me looking all pumped-yet-fat, in which case, we will have a problem…

 

What Is My Chubby Arse Doing???

11st 8.5lbs.

11st 10.5lbs.

11st 9.5lbs.

11st 10.5lbs.

11st 9.5lbs.

This is what I have weighed at random intervals in the last two weeks. I was pretty chuffed at the fact that I had only put on 2.8lbs across December, only to then basically put on that weight in the space of one fucking week. And I can't even blame lady time! In fact, I was actually trying to diet for the first of those two weeks, so that makes it a million times worse. Shame on me, and shame on my approach to healthy eating. I'm not sure what that approach was now (it's long been lost in memories of Yo! Sushi lunches and handfuls of crisps) but I definitely needed to stop. So I have.

This week I am back on track and sticking to fasting — THIS IS THE YEAR. I say this every year, but this year I REALLY have to fucking try because I just realised something last week and it terrified me: I am very likely to get married in the next year and a half. FUCK FUCK FUCK. I cannot be feeling insecure on my wedding day. I cannot take loads of selfies to hide my double chin. I cannot ask the photographer to cut my fat arms out of every shot (hmm, or can I?). I need to actually look decent, so I really need to start NOW.

I'm not saying that I am going to be uber-strict (ha, god forbid should I actually stick to anything in a bid to lose weight) but I am going to need to remind myself of the 'W' word every time I am thinking about lifting unnecessary food items to my big fat mouth. 

So, I have printed out new goal weight countdown sheet thing (I updated the one that barely got highlighted last year, obvs) and have devised a new exercise routine that I need to follow (alternate days of exercise bike and circuits). I have made it ultra basic, because I am the laziest fucker known to man. I just need to do it every day until the end of February so I get into the habit, and then I will improve it so I can have arms like Jodie Marsh. Yeah, fuck off — I don't care what you think about that.

This does mean that I will now be exercising on fast days, but seeing as I have more fat reserves than your average polar bear, I really don't think I'm going to be collapsing on the tube anytime soon. I've also decided to eat the same lunch for a whole week, thus limiting how much time per day my brain is allowed to think about lunch possibilites. This also means less lunchtime trips to Morrisons, which also means I am less likely to pick up a sharer bag of salt & vinegar sticks and eat them all in one sitting. Speaking of salt & vinegar sticks — I bought a pack from Waitrose last week and they were fucking rank. I don't know what was wrong with them but they they smelt funny and tasted weird. Still finished them all though.

Dieting is such simple maths but I just find it so fucking difficult. I don't know why. Maybe I need to work with food so that the sight of it makes me sick by the time it comes to mealtimes, you know, so I'm svelte like Gary Rhodes or Michel Roux Jr. But then I realised that for every one of those skinny chefs, there are often two flabby foodie friends like the Two Fat Ladies or the Hairy Bikers making tasty dishes for each other. Even the flippin' Hairy Bikers have managed to lose fucking weight now! 

URGH. Come on lady, get it done. WEAR YOUR HUNGER LIKE A BADGE.

Starting Over... Again.

Yup. My yearly pilgrimage to Diet Land is on.

Just like everyone else who now resembles a Christmas pudding due to overindulgence during the festive season, it's time to shape up. It's always nice to start weight loss in January. You have a clear slate in front of you and you can forget about everything you ate last year. I was supposed to be counting calories after Christmas Day, but that went straight out the window and I decided to eat bacon crispies instead. 

The last weight I inputted into MFP was on the December 3 (shame!) and this Monday I bit the bullet to see the damage: I have put on 2.8lbs since then. That's not bad really, but then it's not like I was starting in a particularly great place (I'd already put on a little) so I shouldn't pat myself on the back at all really. But as I ate a lot of pretty good stuff over the holiday (I have travelled the globe via my plate!), I feel ready to start.

I want to say this year will be soooooooo different and that I'm properly gonna bust a gut (ha!) trying to lose weight or that things have clicked in my brain, but I don't think any of that is true. I have to get on with it without it being the focus of my existence, which is very hard if you're a foodie. I need to somehow not be obsessed with food, because I'm genuinely worried that when I die I'll realise that I spent my whole life just eating and obsessing about my weight. And that terrifies me, because it is such a sad and pathetic existence. I'm scared of death as it is, let alone wasting my life on top of it.

Another thing that worries me is that I am pretty sure that my overeating affects my breathing, ie. my chest gets really tight and I have to take my inhaler. That is not good. Or healthy. Or normal. For one short minute, I did debate the idea of taking slimming pills… but I'm not going to, so stop shouting please. I will be doing a mix of diets I think, but I think I will stick to the fasting mainly.

URGH. I also had a total clothing/boot meltdown over the holidays (yes, that is a thing). I bought some new dresses but needed a pair of boots to go with them. So I ordered a pair from Office. They didn't really go, so obviously I had a breakdown before my last day at work. Honestly, my BF puts up with a LOT. It was so bad that I almost cried at work. I don't want to do that anymore. It all boils down to me feeling like a blob, but I have no-one else to blame except myself. I don't want to get that depressed again. It does not help that I am a useless shopper to boot (I am now thinking I look bad in all of them), but then nothing looks good when you feel like shit.

I promise to update more often and with more (lemon) zest than today. I've just been very busy with work, although as a dedicated foodie, I still managed to slip out to Yo! Sushi for lunch… dont worry, I counted everything! It's not that bad as long as you stay away from any bowls of rice, as they total a super-scary 400 calories! What the what?

I thought I would finish this post with my mum's reaction to a body shape test I did (USING MY ACTUAL MEASURMENTS!!) online. 

Enjoy.