The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl

How DietGirl Became Not-On-A-Diet-Girl

You may have noticed that I've not really updated the weight stats on my sidebar in a long long time. I keep meaning to explain why, but all I had to show you is fifteen abandoned drafts. The truth is, everything has changed this year; my attitude to this diet stuff. I needed to pull back from the scales and think long and hard about things. There's been so many incidents that screamed to me that after six and a bit years, I had to change my approach to my health and weight.

It wasn't until the lovely Sarah invited me to write a guest post for Elastic Waist that I actually sat down and put the massive changes in my head down on paper. The post is up today. Thanks all you lovely EW folks for having me over.

Update: I've archived the full post below for posterity.

I’d been on a diet for 333 weeks when the pickled ginger stepped in and saved my sanity.

Earlier this year I was on a spring-cleaning rampage when I came across the long-forgotten package. Instead of the usual pale pink, my ginger had turned into a swampish, scummy brown from sitting on the pantry shelf for so long. I’d bought wasabi, rice and seaweed too, with the intention of making homemade sushi, but for a whole year I’d been putting it off.

I’ve got to lose those last ten pounds first, I kept telling myself. If I make sushi now I’ll get bloated and it’ll show up on the scales! I can’t ruin my diet with a carb fest!

But when I found that dust-covered package I sat down on the kitchen floor and actually said out loud, “ARE YOU INSANE?”

After a lifetime of angst-ing about my weight, I finally saw how ridiculous it had all become. I was almost 30 years old, and I’d been dieting on and off through my entire 20s. My weeks revolved around my Monday weigh-in—what to eat, when to eat it, how it would affect my date with the scale. And it wasn’t just the pickled ginger; I had a whole drawer of wacky ingredients and a shelf crammed with untouched cookbooks, waiting for the day I gave myself permission to cook from them. After 333 weeks I knew I had to move on—before it became 666 weeks.

* * *

Way back in January 2001, I weighed 351 pounds. My weight-loss journey began with very negative motivations—I was depressed, angry and so full of loathing that I wanted to hack off my belly rolls with a knife. Even as I made changes to my lifestyle I never believed they’d stick; I didn’t think I deserved any better.

But surprisingly, my self-perception swiftly changed. The more I treated my body kindly with good food and gentle exercise, the more I positive I felt. At first I could only manage a walk around the block or 10 minutes on the elliptical, but I began to appreciate my size 26 body for what it could do, instead of what it looked like. For the first time I looked in the mirror and saw a worthy human being, not just a collection of flaws.

By August 2006, after 291 long slow weeks, I’d lost 175.5 pounds and weighed 175.5 pounds; I’d shed precisely half my body weight. I had the healthy lifestyle down pat, too. I loved my exercise and instead of binging or dieting I finally had a balanced relationship with food. When I took some progress photos in my new size 12 jeans I loved what I saw. I felt confident, healthy, sexy and content. I felt done.

But how could I be done? I still had 10 pounds to lose before I stopped being fat in the eyes of the Body Mass Index overlords. Surely my happiness wasn’t really valid unless I reached that number?

So for the next year that package of pickled ginger rotted away in the pantry while I became obsessed with my goal weight. But the harder I tried the more the scale refused to budge. I grew panicky and impatient, and instead of keeping faith in my tried-and-true formula of sensible eating and exercise, I scoured my old diet books looking for answers.

Finally in Week 333, I stopped and asked myself, What the hell am I doing? Haven’t I learned anything? Why am I torturing myself?

For six years I’d battled to achieve a balanced approach but now I’d fallen back into my old, obsessive ways. And what for? I was fit and healthy. I liked my body. I finally liked being me. But my weight fixation was making me lose sight of all those positives.

So the moment I tossed that rotten ginger into the trash I tossed my diet mentality too. No more number crunching, no more ritual weigh-ins and no more Last Ten Pounds. I decided to just let go and decided to see where my instincts took me.

Part of me worried what would happen if I didn’t obsess about my weight. How would I stay healthy without all that angst? Without the fear of a weekly weigh-in, would I go wild and wake up in a sea of candy wrappers with chocolate smeared across my gob?

But I didn’t. Instead life got a helluva lot more interesting once I ditched the scales and dieting. I carried on being healthy. I started yoga classes, something I’d yearned to do for years but had put off in favor of workouts that burned more calories. I went for long hikes in the Scottish Highlands with my husband. He’d been asking me to join him for ages but I’d turned him down because he always took sandwiches to eat on the summits and I fretted that bread would screw up my weigh-ins.

These days I’m not afraid of a sandwich. And I exercise purely for the joy of it, not to make my body more pleasant to the masses. Instead of thinking, “These are things I must do to lose weight,” I now believe, “This is just how I live my life.”

I don’t know where the scale will end up, but after 333 weeks I’m not wasting another minute worrying about it. I always thought the prize would be seeing that magic number, but now I appreciate that it was never about the scales or the size of my jeans. The true reward was finding peace and acceptance and embracing my own skin, with all its lumps and bumps. It's getting out there and diving into life, instead of sitting around getting old and moldy like that pickled ginger!

All Change

Dudes! I'm almost to scared to admit this, but I am kicking arse at the moment. Shhh. Don't tell.

Late last year I was banging on about my impatience to get to 75 kilos so I could say I was Done then just get on with the maintaining:

"... after that... I refuse to expend any more energy on numbers... Once I hit 75kg I am going to make my goals entirely about fitness, and if they result in the the scale going down that will be a happy accident... I will let it settle where it wants to and let the fit of my jeans be the measure of what shape I'm in.

I just want my goals to be completely removed from the scales. It will be about building muscle and getting stronger and leaner and healthier. I want to learn to ride my bike without wobbles and take up yoga and get to a point where I can swim laps for half an hour. I just want to get on with it, continuing my healthy lifestyle. I want to take it further and push harder... because that's how I live my life... not because I'm trying to lose weight."

Rant rant rant. I basically concluded that all that would have to wait... until I got to the elusive 75 kilos.

But then the lovely Beckie left a very thought-provoking comment which you can read here. This sentence grabbed me:

"You said you wanted to change over to just fitness goals. Is this after the finish line? Why not help it get you to the finish line?"

Oooh, indeed! Why wait for the finish line? The fitness stuff is what I like and what makes me feel challenged and productive. So when I wrote out my goals for 2007, Get To 75kg was at the top of the list but the rest of it was about shifting my lardy arse. I have changed my focus to fitness NOW instead of waiting until goal.

Even though exercise has long been a big part of my lard busting efforts, the main theme has been the weekly weigh-in and reporting the results of said weigh-in to the blog. It was starting to drive me MENTAL. I was putting all this pressure on myself to "get results" each week so I'd have some good numbers to report. I was getting impatient that it was taking so long. As much as I was enjoying my exercise, there was an underlying feeling of "wonder if this will help my weigh-in this week?". Because as much as I talked about inches lost or push-ups pushed, it somehow didn't seem quite as valid as pounds down.

Finally I asked myself, Why am I going mental over this stupid number? I was starting to see 75's in my dreams! You know, like a 7 and a 5, walking hand-in-hand through a meadow. Don't get me wrong, I can't wait to hit the number, just so I can say gleefully, "Finiiiished!". But getting impatient and stressed about it was actually counter-productive -- I seemed to be getting further AWAY from goal.

So that's why I made so many fitness goals for 2007, because the sweaty stuff makes me happy. I was really inspired by fitness bloggers like the amazing Kek and her supreme buffness. She has given me so much advice and inspiration to change my focus. All my efforts are now with improving fitness in mind, not weight loss. It's early days, but already feels much more satisfying and positive than focusing on a weekly scale result. Instead I'm obssessed with doing those stinkin' pikes or going up a level on that awful Arc trainer machine at the gym.

You have noticed the weekly exercise plans there in the sidebar. I've now followed them faithfully for a month! I've not missed a single session - no excuses, no half-arsedness! Lots of hard work and stinky gym clothes. I feel more determined and my eating is settling down into something sane and sensible. And sustainable.

I am still weighing myself daily. It was fluctuating wildly for a couple of weeks there and I was getting angsty, as though the numbers cancelled out all the goodness of my eating and fitness efforts. But now I am learning to see the scale as just another tool in my belt - a general indicator of a trend as opposed to a machine that dictates my mood for the day!

So basically what I daydreamed about doing when I hit goal, I am doing right now. Living like a boring old healthy person, getting fitter and letting the scale do what it wants. And whaddya know.... enough, simply by not focusing on getting to goal, I am actually inching closer to it! The scales are creeping down, my jeans have eased their death grip on my thighs, inches have been lost... and I feel a helluva lot more sane.

Are We There Yet?

All I want is to get to the finish line.

Whenever I use that phrase I get reminded that there's no such thing as a finish line, that healthy eating is for life, that maintenance is the real bitch, etc etc etc. While I am aware of this, I just want to be done with the losing part. It's been six weeks short of six years, and I've bloody had enough.

People often ask me why I'm shooting specifically for 75kg. According to every calculator and online tool I've ever used, this is the very top of the healthy weight range for a 173cm (5'8") large-framed chick. After all these years of lard-busting I will be more than happy to simply reach the upper limit of that range. That will be enough. I just want to be able to say I got there; that I saw it through to the end. I've watched the sidebar statistics ping down and down and up and down throughout this lard-busting journey, and now I'm just hanging out for the one fine day where I can make it say, To go: ZERO kilos.

And after that, I will not give a shit about the number! I don't want maintenance to be about Scale Anxiety. I could go on a new mission to get somewhere more in the middle of my healthy weight range, but I refuse to expend any more energy on numbers. I am just so bloody tired after nigh on six years of ceremonious weekly weigh-ins, arrrgh! Once I hit 75kg I am going to make my goals entirely about fitness, and if they result in the the scale going down that will be a happy accident. Who knows, it could go up if I gain some muscle! Either way I will let it settle where it wants to and let the fit of my jeans be the measure of what shape I'm in.

I just want my goals to be completely removed from the scales. It will be about building muscle and getting stronger and leaner and healthier. I want to learn to ride my bike without wobbles and take up yoga and get to a point where I can swim laps for half an hour. I just want to get on with it, continuing my healthy lifestyle. I want to take it further and push harder each and every year just because I want to; because that's how I live my life... not because I'm trying to lose weight.

But right now I have some more pounds to lose. I am chugging along with the Going For Gold challenge. I'm eating well and doing as much exercise as my wonky body currently allows, all while keeping an eye on the scale because DAMMIT, I do want that numerical satisfaction of reaching a set goal. Throughout my life I've started so many projects and never quite finished them as I am fundamentally lazy as hell. But since this has been the most time-consuming, life-altering project I've ever undertaken, I want this to be one I actually complete.

I only wish this determination could have come a little earlier in the year. There's only six weeks left in the GFG Challenge and the big fat festive season is plonked right in the middle of it. Where was this hunger and focus during the long days of summer!? I was too busy watching the bloody World Cup instead. Oh well. I dunno, you're either in that Zone where you really want to succeed or you're not. And only now do I feel genuinely in the right head space to galumph my way to the finish line.

. . .

Something wacky was up with Bloglines this week. I use that site to read all your blogs and for some reason it wasn't telling me who'd updated. I got a whole weeks worth of entries last night from the likes of Kathryn, Amanda Jane and Emily. I thought you were all GONE FOREVER! You think I would have just manually checked the sites the old fashioned way, but nooo. I'm not very bright.

. . .

I've always regretted not taking measurements throughout all this fat fighting caper. I would love to know what my waist measurement was in 2001! At the time I didn't bother because the scale number was scary enough, let alone getting out the tape measure. And did I even have a waist? Not that the tape would have fitted round me. Nothing bloody fitted then; not towels, bathrobes nor seat belts.

But since so many of you guys have sung the praises of measurements I finally did it a few weeks ago. Awkwardly. It is so hard to be accurate! I had to choose landmark freckles. Anyway, I measured again on Sunday night and found there was another half-inch off my waist, taking it down to 33 inches. Everyone keeps banging on about waist measurements and the risk of heart disease, like the UK government and that Doctor Oz bloke on Oprah. So if I can shrink another inch-and-a-bit and get below 32 inches then I will be deemed Of Healthy Waist and perhaps I will get a certificate from Oprah or the Prime Minister. Cool!

On A Stick

This week the scales were back down to 81.3 kg. Which is 0.6kg or 1.5lb lost. Which is just the same bloody amount I gained last week.

All I could do this time was laugh and shake my head, you know in the way that some parents do when their little darling is smearing chocolate all over the couch or slashing somebody's tyres. Oh you crazy kids. You know, that look? Oh you CRAZY scales! You kill me!

The thing is, on both Saturday and Sunday the scale was down to 80.4, which I feel is more reflective of my efforts over the past four weeks of Going For Gold. I don't know what happened while I was sleeping on Sunday night, perhaps the pumpkin soup or the salad or the delicious braised cabbage I'd consumed over the weekend had suddenly turned to lead.

But you know what? To hell with the scale. I will keep going. There's only eleven weeks left in the challenge, many of which involve Chistmas and calorific events. I will be extra vigilant and make sure I keep the momentum going. It will take extra effort to get the rest of this blubber off. So I can't do things like, make apple crumble for dessert on a Monday night because there were heaps of apples needing to be used up and it was Weigh Day so I can get away with it especially if you have it with yogurt on the side. No! I can't do that kind of thing. I just have to suck it up and work harder.

. . .

I am off work next week so I vow to write entries of higher quality then. Sorry things haven't been particularly profound lately. 

In the meantime, behold this latest wonder of food manufacturing! Pancake And Sausage On A Stick. Together at last!

300 Weeks

In the kick ass October Rules post, Fat Blogger also mentions an old entry from April 2005 called God I Hate Being Fat. It's one of those entries that attracts a tonne of Google traffic, and over a year later the comments thread is still buzzing with people venting about how much they hate themselves and hate their fat. It really is a fascinating, heart-wrenching, horrifying but ultimately inspiring thread, in no small part to FB's encouraging comments throughout.

What struck me most were the commenters with large amounts of weight to lose, and the overwhelming sentiment that it's too hopeless, too much, too bloody impossible. It made me want bawl because I understand that feeling so well. I just wanted to write a wee something today for anyone out there who's in that position.

I remember how it feels to truly loathe yourself. I'd grab handfuls of flesh and want to hack it off with a knife. It seemed like there was no way out of this lardy prison. Even when I did finally get up the nerve to start fighting the flab in 2001, I still often felt I was in a hopeless situation. In some ways it was worse, because I now knew the cold hard statistics - 351 pounds, with at least 185 of them to lose.

I've told the story a million times before how after a month  I decided I had to start exercising. I only managed to shuffle to the end of the block before my lungs wheezed and rattled in protest. I remember thinking bitterly, What was the point of that? How is walking fifty metres ever going to add up to anything? What's the point of any of this?  It's never going to get any better.

But -- *insert soft-focus montage of the past five 3/4 years, sweat, tears, caramel shortcakes* -- as we all know, these seemingly tiny changes do add up over time. And the more little changes you make, the easier it gets, giving you the confidence to you make even more changes. And the more you do it, the more you feel good about yourself and those negative voices are hushed.

I know the numbers can be overwhelming. I know it feels like an impossible mountain to climb. But if it seems too much, don't try and fix everything all at once. Don't try some fancy diet. Just pick one thing this week. Walk to end of the street and back. Cut out the teaspoon of sugar in your tea. Just try one tiny little thing for seven days. Then when you've done that for a week, add another tiny little thing for the next.

I know this approach is not quick enough for some. Where's the gobsmacking results? Where's the meal replacement shakes and the deprivation? Where's the dramatic statistics? I'm always having people tsk-tsking at what I eat - whether it's some toast or the occasional chocolate - and saying things like, "You'll never get to goal eating that! Carbs are bad! Last year I lost 20 pounds on Trendy Diet Of The Month, why don't you do that? ".

Never mind that the person usually has put back on those 20 pounds plus more. How can you say a diet Works if you gained the blubber back? I'd rather enjoy real food and take longer to get to goal in my slow-ass bumbling way, than crash and burn on a Trendy Diet and wind up with even more pounds to lose. 

Sure it sounds BORING to take it slowly. But just add up all the time you've spent losing and regaining pounds on Trendy Diets. How many weeks or months would that be? Imagine if you'd used that same amount of time to lose half or one pound a week? Would you be heavier or lighter than you are now?

I was moaning about my own excruciatingly slow progress the other day. I've now been Busting Lard for five years and nine months, which is roughly 300 weeks (fark!). And I say roughly, coz I am shite at maths. And now for some statistics:

300 weeks
78.3 kilos (172 lb) lost
A paltry average of just over HALF A POUND (220g) per week.

But... imagine if I'd gone the other way? What if I hadn't changed anything? What if I'd maintained my addiction to ice cream and cheese n bacon rolls and family blocks of Cadbury's Black Forrest?

Right before I started the Lard Busting in 2001, I was gaining weight far more rapidly than half a pound a week. But for arguments sake, let's just say I'd gained at the same rate I've losing for the past 300 weeks - half a pound a week.

I'd now weigh 237.5 kilos. 523 pounds.

Who knows what I'd be up to now. Maybe I'd be in a golf cart, trundling off to the shops; or in a crane, being lifted out of my house by the fire brigade; or just a plain ol pine box. It's kinda scary to think about.

So if you think a pound or a half a week sounds too slow, or if you think your walking around the block or switching to wholegrain bread or doing twenty squats or increasing your veggies isn't going to amount to anything... don't worry. Be patient. Don't give up. Take all the freakin' time you need. Sure, it might take 300 weeks or more. But at least it's 300 weeks in a healthier, happier direction.

Strip n Weigh

It was so strange weighing in on a Monday again. It really does make you think twice about what you put in your gob over the weekend.

And it's quite a nostalgic too, recalling the heady days of 2001 when my sister and I would drive to our WW meeting on a Monday evening. I'd sit there on the loo for ten minutes, trying to pee out another half pound and wondering if I could have worn lighter shoes.

After we weighed, we'd ditch the meeting and go to Woolies to do our grocery shopping. We'd always cook something extra yummy on Monday nights, a post weigh-in treat. My favourite was Burger Night. Australian style of course - with beef, bacon, cheese, grilled pineapple, onions, etc etc. I  worked at a fish and chip shop during university - coincidentally the period I stacked on the most lard - so I knew how to make a mean burger. But of course we'd healthified it - extra lean mince, extra lean bacon, wholegrain buns, and a spritz of cooking spray instead of oil. Lordy, they were tasty.

But Monday weigh-ins aren't as much fun now, since it's just me at home at 6.45AM. I don't have time for theatrics or fancy food, otherwise I'd miss my train. It's just Strip 'n' Weigh, baby! 80.9 kilos (178lb) which means I lost 0.7 kg (1.5lb).

Woohoo! I'll take that. I had a good, clean, sensible week so I must plough forward and do it all over again. I have already had my chocolate ration this week - one Marks & Spencer Caramel Shortcake. It was tops. There are some major Social Landmines coming up, foodwise; but I will do my best to stay aboard the good ship LardBust. Ahoy!

Officially Half The Girl I Used To Be

Happy days, comrades! I lost 1.5 lb (0.68 kg) this week, which means I'm finally officially Livin' in the Seventies! 79.6 kg! Everybody get down and boogie!

(I am sure my mum must be thrilled that the fancy Electronic Publishing course she sent me on after university gave me nothing but the ability to Photoshop my head on to other people's bodies. Still, wouldn't it have been cool if there'd been a ginger Bee Gee?)

It has been a gruelling slog getting back to this most groovin' of decades. I hadn't been there since Year 9 in high school, fourteen years ago.

I had cruised into the 80s in February of last year and kept losing steadily for awhile there. I got halfway to the 70s but then I larded back up to 89.4kg in mid-December, after eating way too much during and after our holiday in Australia. So if you go from that point, it has taken a ridiculous 34 weeks to finally crawl under that 80 mark. I know one is not supposed to get hung up on the scale, but I have been SO bloody sick of seeing eighty-point-something that I almost ran over that digital beast with a truck. But better late than never, I suppose.

My current weight of 79.6 is also a nice wee milestone - I'm officially half the girl I used to be! I've lost 50% of my starting weight. How freaky is that!? It does make the stats on the sidebar look kinda cool.

Alas, there are many dietary dangers lurking in the week ahead! It's going to be another busy set of seven, so I'm aiming to maintain and not go crazy. Stay calm! BREATHE!

But I've only just scraped into the 70s, so part of me worries it was just an illusion. Like when it's a really hot day and you're walking home from the train station and you think you see Johnny Depp waiting for you on the street corner brandishing a margarita, but when you get up close you realise it's actually just a mailbox.

Say No To Bullshit

A couple of years ago I wrote about Bullshit Calories, which are defined as:

1) the calorie-dense foods that you can bullshit yourself into eating excessively by focusing on their flimsy bit of nutritional merit (eg. dark chocolate, nuts)
OR
2) foods with poor nutritional merit that you bullshit yourself into eating excessively because their calorie content is low. (eg. 6-pack of diet chocolate mousse)

I've been having too many Bullshit Calories lately.

On Wednesday I finally faced up the scales. I weighed in at 80.51 kilos, which was the same as my last official weigh-in four weeks ago. At first I was happy because it showed my excellent ability to maintain my weight, which is apparently the hardest part of all in this weight loss caper. And furthermore it was particularly good considering I couldn't exercise with my injuries.

But then I realised that was actually the BULLSHIT perspective. Excuse my language, but really. Yes, I couldn't exercise, but I did sweet bugger all in terms of reducing my food intake to make up for the lack of movement. In fact, I ate more than usual for much of that month. My weight was actually up halfway through the month, I was just bloody lucky I reigned things in so it didn't stick.

Here it is, the middle of the year, and I'm still messing about with this blubber. I'm not going to mollycoddle myself anymore. I could have done more if I'd wanted it more. But somehow I've been convincing myself I want that hunk of Marks & Spencer Caramel Shortcake, that chocolate, that extra piece of toast... more than I want to get to goal. I keep putting off putting in The Effort until tomorrow. Then tomorrow gets postponed to the next tomorrow.

So starting this Monday I've been taking it day by day. Just committing to 24 hours of good decisions at a time. I seemed to screw up if I think further ahead than that. This has worked for five and half days in a row now, hurrah! I've said no to muffins, cream-filled profiteroles and Mars Bars, and with every no my resolve gets stronger to keep going and get the job done.

Now back to work. Have a good weekend, everyone!

Bad Mood Rising

Hello dearests!

A day of rest seems to have helped the ol' arm a tiny wee bit. I was such a miserable bastard on Saturday. Being physically unable to write was utterly depressing. I didn't realise how much I depended on it as my outlet. I had things to say! I had Book Stuff to do! And since even old fashioned pen and paper were painful, I started to panic thinking I'll never get this stinking project done and I'll never accomplish anything and never be more than the typer of someone else's letters. Oh comrades, it was a truly wild pity party.

I was convinced chocolate would make me better, but luckily we didn't have any. Instead I had a wee homemade jam biscuit and spent the weekend being a hermit with the Scottish Companion, watching Northern Exposure Season 4 episodes and the most thrilling MotoGP race ever. I also ventured into the Real World twice to go to the gym.

I'm seeking medical advice on Wednesday. Woohoo...

. . .

The tedious trudge to the Finish Line continues. The scales are showing unpleasing numbers this week. You know what? Screw the scale. I know it's evil. It's just that I have this desire to officially reach a healthy weight/BMI. Don't write and tell me I am obsessed, just please try and understand that I am really anally retentive and I've always been a huge nerd for numbers and statistics. I know that the journey doesn't end at goal, but please just understand that after working on this lard busting project for over Five Long Years, there has to be a proper conclusion.

And not even being too fussy about the numbers. I'm only wanting to reach THE TOP of my healthy weight range for closure's sake. After that I will just simply continue living the same healthy lifestyle I am now, and the numbers can settle wherever they bloody feel like. I want to tie this up this part of the process in a neat little package.

It's a good thing I employ so many non-scale methods of measuring progress. There's no way I'd have lost all this lard if it had only been about the scale. I set myself challenges. I have all manner of spreadsheets. I have plenty of variety and balance. But at this point I must focus even more on the non-scale stuff. I will pretend the scale isn't an issue and get busy making a healthy life even healthier. The numbers will budge when they're good and ready.

Here's a few of my current dorky challenges:

• To beat my slowass rowing machine speed record (currently 2km in 10:15)
• Resume Operation Push-Up (I'd graduated from 0.5 to 2 proper full push-ups before my shoulder died. WOW!)
• Master the stability ball segment of Cathe CoreMax (currently can't do it without falling off and crashing into the telly!)
• Learn to ride a BIKE.

Oh people! I bought a bike on Friday! It will be ready this coming Saturday. I have invested a nice chunk of funds into a piece of machinery that I don't know how to operate. Holy crap! But I have done other things before that scared the crap out of me and I survived so let's bring on one more. Variety is the spice of life.

Anyway as you can see I have plenty of stuff to do rather than faff about with the scales. I'd best get on with it then. Hope you're all well :)

Do The Job Properly

Help! Can anyone identify this strange vegetable that appeared in our vegie box today?

Update: It's kohlrabi. Thanks everyone!

. . .

Everyone tells me that the Last 10 Pounds are the hardest to lose. I think this will be the case for me. But I have to admit, it's mostly because I am making them the hardest.

I'm being a tad premature, since I actually have 15.3 pounds (6.9 kg) til I reach just the top of my healthy weight range. But there's no doubting I'm at the business end of this lard busting adventure and it sucks. Why is it taking me so bloody long? You'd think after losing 170 pounds that a piddling fifteen more would be a breeze. I should be overjoyed! I should be throwing myself into completing the task! So why I am dawdling along in a halfassed manner?

I think I'm chicken shit, to be honest. I'm scared that I'll get to a healthy weight but will still look like a flabmonster, therefore I'll need to lose even MORE weight and never be free of this stinking task. Therefore it's better remain comfortably overweight so I never have to properly finish and find out.

Or maybe part of me is scared of finishing the job because once it's finished, I will have to find another obsession to throw myself into, and I have become quite fond of this lard-busting journey in a way, with all its ups and downs. It's comfy and cosy and a great way to avoid any other Issues in your life.

Another part of me worries that if this journey Ends, I'll no longer be a legitimate part of this lovely cosy blogging world. I'll be like some middle-aged fart who keeps hanging around his old high school, because that's where he spent the best years of his life. All his old teachers have moved on and the current students think he's some sort of pervert, but he just can't let go.

Or perhaps I am simply too lazy. You know when you're a kid and there's certain phrases your parents have to say to you over and over again, so often that it becomes permanently engraved on your brain? Mine was always, You always leave things half-finished. Do the job properly!

Mums are smart, I tell you. She had my character sussed right from the start.

But I can't let this become just another half-knitted scarf or play-without-an-ending, shoved up the back of the cupboard. I want to finish this job. I will, I will! Just have to keep reminding myself of what I want, especially when confronted with Caramel Shortcakes.

So here's to the Final Fifteen. They'll only be as hard to lose as I let them.

. . .

I've never been a fan of gym cardio - treadmills, bikes, elliptical trainers. I always feel like I am huffing and puffing on the road to nowhere. But with crappy weather, crappy knees and some of my classes being permanently cancelled, I've had to venture back into the mirrored sweatbox.

But it's actually enjoyable with a bit of forward planning. I'm a big fan of interval training, the variations of speed and intensity make the time go much faster. It's even better if I bring Pedro, my iPod shuffle, and work the intervals into the Playlist.

This will probably be of no interest to anyone unless you're particularly nerdy, but I'll tell you all about yesterday's session anyway. It was about 50 minutes, split between the bike and the cross trainer machine.

For warm-up we had Jump by Van Halen, because it's incredibly cheesy and makes me laugh. You may as well get yourself into a good mood if you're going to spend an hour getting sweaty.

Tracks 2 - 4 gradually got faster and more intense. I varied my speed and the resistance on the cross-trainer, sometimes going backwards for variety, and putting on bursts of speed for the choruses.

Track 5 was Thunderstruck by AC/DC. It's one of my favourite Body Pump shoulder tracks, but here it is good active recovery, slow and pounding. Once I got my breath back I increased the resistance to fry the legs.

Track 6, Smack My Bitch Up, is hella fast and furious! It always gets me in the mood for moving. I decreased the resistance but basically sprinted like the clappers, as fast as I could for the five minutes. Same deal for Track 7. After this I am sweating like a bush pig, to borrow a phrase Pete used to say. That's when I had a quick stretch then jumped on the bike.

The bike started with James Brown, a medium-paced funky track to recover. Woohoo! Then it was Transmission by Joy Division, with the best bass ever, and 3 minutes 34 seconds of sprinting! Killer!

After that it's Do You Want To by Franz Ferdinand, a slinky and perfectly paced recovery. Again I increase the resistance once I'd recovered. I also used this time to sing along and watch the big freaky blokes doing their weights. I love how their eyes always dart around when they're checking the mirrors, to see if anyone's checking them out.

Next it was that old chestnut, Girls And Boys by Blur, in which I sprinted through the choruses. Then I cruised into the B-52's track, a nice and steady pedal with mediun resistance to finish off the sweaty section

I cooled down with a laid back Lemonheads song then hopped off for some stretching. Then it was a ten minute walk home to finish. Huzzah! If you're a certified cardiophobe like me, I say iPods are the way forward!

Today it's upper body weights. Woohoo! Hope you're all having a lovely Easter!

Green Machine

Well, it's the end of an era. The Hot Roll Man cometh no more. He says he's not getting enough business from our company, so he will no longer swing by around 9.20AM with limp white rolls filled with greasy bacon and egg or sausage or black pudding (ew). He shall no longer deliver the Scones of Temptation. I don't know how many lots of 50p I've squandered on his giant sultana scones, sometimes with strawberry jam, sometimes just butter.

This can only be a good thing, really. It was pure torture, hearing the receptionist announce his arrival over the intercom, then sitting there twitching as my colleagues trooped off for their breakfast, arguing with myself as to whether I'd join them. For awhile there I was forming such a Scone Habit that I made sure I left all my cash and cards at home so I wouldn't have the means to buy one. But that's the end of that, the scones will have to live on in my memory. Ooh all that butter and fruity goodness, I can just taste it right now as I write. Non-complex carbohydrated heaven.

. . .

Remember that World's Healthiest Foods site told me I need to eat more greens? Well I finally got round to doing something about that. First of all, what the hell constitutes a green? According to this article, we're talking arugula (rocket), beet greens, bok choy, collard greens, dandelion greens, kale, lamb's quarters, mustard greens, spinach, swiss chard, and watercress.

I do my shopping online at Tesco and their range of greens was a little sparse. I ended up buying a bag of what was simply called, GREENS. No doubt picked by third-world slaves and doused in chemicals and shipped to Britain at great expense, but I was desperate. When the shopping arrived last night I just sorta gawked at the bag, looking for an ingredient list to tell me what this chopped up stuff was. Kale? Chard? But it just says, GREENS. Is this some British word that I don't know of? Like how you say aubergine for eggplant, and courgette for zucchini? Are greens an actual vegetable?

Now I am trying to figure out what to do with the little bastards for dinner tonight. If anyone has any recipe ideas please let me know!

. . .

Once again I am having to rethink how to best approach the remaining 10-15 kilos I need to lose and/or the quest to comfortably fit into a size 14, whatever happens first. Like I've said before, weekly weigh-ins work really well when you have a lot of lard to lose, as they are a great indicator of progress particularly when it might not show in measurements for awhile. But now they just seem to mess with my head. Over the past two months the scale has gone up three kilos then down again. I'm back now at 85.6 kg.

How I react to the scale each week depends on my mood. A gain could either mean, "Well screw this, I'm getting some chocolate!" or, "Whoa, lardy! Better cut back on the grease". A loss can mean, "Huzzah, keep up the good work" or "Let us celebrate with buttered toast and jam". While the Wednesday Weigh-In was instrumental in getting me focused for Operation Wedding Dress earlier this year, these days it just encourages stupid behaviour. Like last night the Scottish Companion suggested we have a few oven chips (fries) with our vegie burgers and salad, and I freaked out thinking, "Oooh, all those chips sitting in my gut the night before the weigh-in? Can't we have them tomorrow night instead?".

That is bloody ridiculous! The chips fitted in just fine to my daily allowance of fat/cals etc, yet I didn't want it Weighing Me Down for this morning's scale hop. It shouldn't matter if you eat chips on the day of your weigh in or five minutes after it, you still ate the damn chips. It is much more sane to look at the chips and decide if you want them to be part of the OVERALL picture. Is it okay to eat them in the grand scheme of things? How does it compare to other stuff you've eaten lately? Have you made enough crappy choices already or is it something you feel okay with? What will it mean for your overall progress? Etc etc etc. That is a better base for making decisions, not that tiny wedge of time that you're on the scale.

That said, I know if I don't check in with the scale I tend to wander off track and become less conscious about what I eat. I need to keep an eye on the overall direction of the number. Yet when I hop on weekly I turn it into an elaborate ritual, making sure I go to the loo first, strip off my clothes and place the scale on the EXACT same tile in the kitchen, and then either over/under react to the number it gives me.

What to do then? I'm trying to strike a balance between wanting to blast off the last 10 kilos but wanting to take a long-term, non-obsessive approach to the way I eat and exercise. I want to lose lard but I'm really tired and bored of elaborate strategies, challenges, deadlines and number crunching. I want things to feel more relaxed, like a transition towards maintenance.

The most important thing for me, as always, is to keep tracking my food. That way the daily statistics (calories, fat/carbs/protien, fruit and veg intake) will tell me if I'm being healthy or not, as opposed to relying on the scale for feedback. I also need to stay consistent with the exercise, to keep my self-esteem bubbling along and so I feel healthier. I have been very consistent with exercise for the past two months and I am just buzzing from it! Like I said before, the scale has been all over the shop in that time, yet I have noticed significant changes in my fitness level and body shape.

So I guess it's the Alert But Not Alarmed approach. Stay aware of what I am eating and how I'm moving my arse while keeping a cursory eye on the scale, but not be a freak about it.

Patience, Grasshopper

I've got no kids nor immediate plans to sprog up. Yet I'm always fretting about how I'd raise my non-existent brood to have healthy, non-screwy attitudes to food. Fig recently wrote a post called Young Hearts Be Free, (scroll down, it's the 26 April entry) all about how she talks to her kids about fat and exercise and moderation. It is a bloody good read and a responsible approach. There is all this kerfuffle in the news here about the quality school dinners at the moment, but there's plenty of other meals in the week aside from the school lunch.

What happens at home is so important in shaping attitudes. I remember my stepdad eating a white bread sandwich with margarine and CHOCOLATE FROGS inside it, and he'd say "Do as I say, not as I do." Yeah right, buddy! As soon as I'm outta here I'm eating all the chocolate frogs I want. But not in a sandwich because that's just wrong! Anyway, Fig's approach is a winner, I tells ya.

...

I have been thinking about Australia lately, feeling rather homesick. I can't wait to visit in October. I'm in two minds about where I'd like to live, long-term. Then Kimba left a comment in the last entry to say she saw Green & Blacks chocolate in the Oxfam shop today. It was $11 for a 100g block. Bloody hell! So this either means a) I never move home coz the G&B's is too expensive or b) I move home right away coz the G&B's is too expensive therefore I can never guts out on it. Hmmmm.

. . .

Patience, grasshopper. Think of the long term picture. This is the sort of twaddle I mutter to myself when there's weeks and weeks without significant changes in my bod or on the scale. It's what I say to soothe my whiny soul after bitching yet again to the Scottish Companion that I am bored with calorie counting, macronutrients, sports bras, whole grains, downward dogs and running. But the trick is to just hang on through these sucky go-nowhere weeks - and keep up the exercise and healthy food. Even when you are literally yelling and stomping on the kitchen floor, "WHY DOES THIS SUCK SO MUCH?".

Why? Because when you least expect it, POW, you will notice a whole bunch of changes all at once. This happened to me this week.

• Forced into the bowels of my wardrobe by a lack of clean clothes, I rediscovered some tops my sister had brought back from Australia in January. They were too tight then, but now they fit!
• My boa-constrictive Enell sports bra suddenly does up with great ease instead of feeling like it will crack my ribcage open
• After a year of little progress in these areas, I increased my tricep and bicep AND chest weights at Body Pump
• On noticing my legs suddenly felt a lot stronger, I got out the stopwatch and found I've shaved three minutes off my Walk To Work time
• On a grassy high school athletics track, I ran one kilometre as per Mistress Julia's instruction and did it in 6:09, which ain't Paul Radcliffe but it was well over a minute and a half faster than the last timed kilometre back in early April. Woo!
• Today's weigh-in saw a 0.6kg loss!

It's weeks like these that keep me going. Sometimes it's so tedious and boring but I know I have to be patient and consistent, and realise it takes time for the body and mind to find a rhythm. It's weeks like these and I want to push my body harder and further than ever before. Just purely to see what it could do. Woohoo!

. . .

Wednesday Weigh-In - Week Seventeen

last update: 11 May 2005

age: 27
height: 173cm (5'8")

original start weight: 159.2 kg (351 lb) on 17 Jan 2001
original start bmi: 53.4

fresh start weight: 95.9 kg (211.4 lb) on 12 Jan 2005
fresh start bmi: 32.2

current weight: 86.9 kg (191.5 lb)
current bmi: 29.1

result this week: -0.6 kg (0.4 lb)

loss in 2005: -9.0 kg (19.8 lb)
total loss since 2001: -72.3 kg (159.3 lb)

initial goal weight: 75 kg (165 lb)
distance to goal: 11.9 kg (26.2 lb)

Wednesday Weigh-In - Week Five

Here we go again!

last update: 16 February 2005

age: 27
height: 173cm (5'8")

original start weight: 159.2 kg (351 lb) on 17 Jan 2001
original start bmi: 53.4

fresh start weight: 95.9 kg (211.4 lb) on 12 Jan 2005
fresh start bmi: 32.2

current weight: 89.5 kg (197 lb)
current bmi: 30

result this week: -1.1 kg (2.4 lb)

loss in 2005: -6.4 kg (14 lb)
total loss since 2001: -69.7 kg (153 lb)

initial goal weight: 75 kg (165 lb)
distance to initial goal: 14.5 kg  (32 lb)

. . .

My weekly hop on the scales is so precise it borders on a religious ceremony. I do it as soon as I wake up. I take the scale into the bathroom, because the floorboards in my room are uneven. The bathroom floor tiles are black and white like a chessboard, and I place the scale on THE SAME tile every week. Then I go to the loo, then I wash my hands, then I strip off, then I get on the scale. I make a note of the number. Then I weigh myself four more times to make sure it wasn't an accident.

If I deviate from this routine I'd feel like it was cheating somehow. At least I know I am starting from the same place each week - naked with empty stomach. I fear this week's weigh-in, however, is not a true reflection of the past week. I won't go into the details, but lets just say last night's vegetable chili was having a rather dramatic effect on my digestive system this morning, and the ensuing evacuation may have made the numbers go down more than usual.

So this week I SHOULD be jumping up and down because HOLY FREAKING SHIT, I'm an 80s Girl! But I will wait and see what happens next week and celebrate then if applicable. I had some champagne and pizza on the weekend so I'm just not sure how I could lose so much in a week, even if I did walk around London for six freaking hours with only twenty minutes stop for lunch. Hmmm.

Anyway, even if the scales go up next week, let us just pause and reflect that I saw a number on the scale that began with 8. It has taken me for-bloody-ever to reach this moment. I became a 90s girl about August 2003. And I have not weighed under 90 kilos since 1994. Eleven years ago! Holy moly. I can't believe I've lost eleven years of lard.

It's tempting to go a bit crazy for the next two weeks before the wedding. After all, the dress is damn fitted and if I gain an ounce it could all explode! EXPLODE, I tells ya. But if I cut my calories too low, I won't have enough energy for the gym, I will feel like shit and my skin will look rubbish. So I am going to stick to my usual regime but be extra careful to lay off processed foods and refined carbs.

I also need to make sure I don't drink too much. Nothing puffs me up like alcohol! I have a night out on Friday, another on Saturday, and dinner at a friend's place on Sunday night who said she is planning some calorific dessert to wow us all. So my plan for the nights out is to sneak to the bar and get glasses of iced water with a wedge of lime or lemon, so I can pretend I have vodka or gin. I can alternate that with real drinks. They'll all be so drunk before long they won't even notice what I'm doing.

As for the Sunday Night Cal Fest, I will just make sure I be extra healthy and wholesome during the week so I have some calories up my sleeve for Sunday. Plus plenty of exercise! Woohoo.

So that's the plan, just remind me to stick to it!

Wednesday Weigh-In - Week 4

And here we go again. Four weeks went by pretty bloody quick, eh?

latest update: 9 February 2005

age: 27
height: 173cm (5'8")

original start weight: 159.2 kg (351 lb) on 17 Jan 2001
original start bmi: 53.4

fresh start weight: 95.9 kg (211.4 lb) on 12 Jan 2005
fresh start bmi: 32.2

current weight: 90.6 kg (199.3 lb)
current bmi: 30.4

result this week: -1.2 kg (2.6 lb)

loss in 2005: -5.3 kg (11.6 lb)
total loss since 2001: -68.6 kg (150.9 lb)

initial goal weight: 75 kg (165 lb)
distance to goal: 15.6 kg  (34.4 lb)

There's some little milestones to celebrate this week. I'm now in "onederland", as the pound watching Americans call it when you crack the < 200lb mark. And I've hit 150 pounds lost, which is good because that's how much I said I'd lost in my bio for Erin's book. The book comes out in May, so I was hoping I'd get to that point by then. So now there's all the more incentive for not gaining weight - I don't want to be a liar in print!

I had a cracker of a week, overall. I planned every mouthful at the start of each day using Weight Loss Resources' groovy little Food Planner. Then I add in whatever exercise I've planned to do. That way I see how many calories/fat/protein/carbs etc I'm set to scoff, then I can decide whether I'll be eating too much or not enough, and I chop/add snacks as appropriate. This week I knew I was going out for lunch on Saturday so I cut back during the week and piled on the exercise. Sunday morning SC had a sudden craving for fish and chips, so we had the oven-baked kind for dinner that night. It was still way over my calories but I'd cut back on breakfast and lunch to compensate.

I know I must sound like some sort of control freak, but planning is, and what always has, worked best for me. I am not doing anything extreme here. You'd think we three weeks to go to the wedding I'd be drinking SlimFast and nibbling on seaweed in an attempt to drop a size. But I just couldn't be arsed. I feel happy and optimistic and level-headed with the way I've been eating.

I had the bread and the fancy French butter at the restaurant on Saturday, but skipped on wine and picked a vegetarian main and a fruity dessert. I'm trying to strike a balance, to shed my old extreme behaviours. If I am mega-healthy for the vast majority of the time, I can afford to eat out or have some fish and chips once in awhile. I'm not panicking, I'm not in a rush - I am just enjoying logging my weight here and at WLR every Wednesday and watching the numbers inch downwards.

Maybe I am speaking too soon, it's only been four weeks. But I feel like my head is finally in the right place, I've come to terms with the fact that I know what works best for me and that it's all about focus and hard work.

I have some freakin' huge challenges this coming week (London, baby!) and the week after (my hen do - aka bachelorette party to you Americans) and of course the wedding and honeymoon after all THAT. Yet I'm finding myself looking forward to the challenge of all these events and seeing if I can handle 'em without with a sense of balance. Bring it onnnnnn.

I'm Alive!

Hey everyone,

Just a quickie to let you know I'm alive and kicking. I apologise for the lack of updates and email replies. Life has gone haywire lately.

People keep asking me could I just at least update the weigh-in page, if I can't find time to write journal entries. But I don't go to WW anymore, my last weigh-in was New Years Eve. I found it far too discouraging to rock up every week to find my weight fluctuating madly. It made me forget that my clothes were getting bigger and I was looking good.

So I made a conscious decision not to go back and say myself $16 a week. I get on the scales now and then at the gym. This Saturday I was 112 kilos.

In other news: I bought some new undies the other day. Size 18. They look so small when hanging on the line to my huge size 26's. I still wear the 26s sometimes, even though I have to pull them up to right under my boobs, they're that big. It just gets expensive having to buy new clothes all the time.

It's getting much easier to buy clothes now. I've been lay-bying some stuff at Target for winter. They have quite nice stuff sometimes. I bought it all in a size 18. It's snug now but by winter it should fit properly!

But still, I can't get too excited. Size 18 at Target is a pretty generous size. And there's a difference in the Size 18 in the Big Chicks section than the few Size 18 clothes they have in the "Normal Chicks" section.

But I can't get all obsessive over clothing sizes, like I used to with the scale. That would just be replacing one number obsession with another.

Things have probably slowed down with my weight loss. Every kilo gone takes far more effort than it did a year ago. But I have to live like this for the rest of my life, so I am learning how to strike a healthy balance between good food, regular exercise and the occassional splurge.

Thanks for all your "I WANT!" emails re the last entry. The general consensus seems to be more updates, more pictures, info about what I eat and what exercise I do, and perhaps a weblog for more snippety updates.

I really like the idea of a weblog, but I would want to use Movable Type to create it. I'm not in a position to buy a domain/hosting at the moment, so if anyone out there knows of anyone with MT on their server who'd like a hostee, please give me a yell!

Bloody hell, what a boring entry. No funny bits at all! Life hasn't been too funny lately. But I will kick on and vow not to scoff down chocolate in the process ;)

Hope you're all well! Thanks for your emails and encouragement. I will try to be less of a slackarse!

:-)

Jackie Chan

Hello groovy people.

"Well, f*ck me!" is what I said when I got on the scales this week. I know, I really should learn to watch my language. But the bastard scales said I had gained ONE KILO. A whole kilo? I could not believe that.

Sure it had been my birthday, and we ate out, but I really didn't have anything that bad. I skipped the garlic bread, which is delicious but fatty as hell. I had this veal dish for my main and it wasn't bad. For desert I shared a slice of orange & poppyseed cake, and it did not have any icing, and I also ignored the creamy and stuff accompanying it. I had two glasses of red.

Not too bad, I thought. But still I gained a kilo! I have nothing to blame it on, not even near That Time of the Month.

Pah.

My sister thinks that the weigh-lady weighed me wrong the week before, when she said I'd lost 2.2 kilos. At the time I thought, "I know I've lost a big chunk here, but seems she didn't move the slide thingy down far enough for it to be two whole kilos." Coz if you look at those old-fashioned scales, two kilos is quite a distance, and I am sure it didn't move that far. It happened awfully quick.

I am cranky because that week I neglected to check the reading for myself. I usually do because she's new at the weighing and she's made mistakes with me before that would have gone unnoticed had I not been watching with an eagle eye. But last week I was in a great hurry and didn't look and now I am half convinced that I probably only lost ONE kilo last week, and this week would I would have stayed the same or had a tiny loss. I just don't see how I could gain a KILO in a week.

Either way, there's nothing I can do about it. The scales say I weigh 116.4kg and this means I have 6.4 kilos to lose in the next 8 weeks. I am terrified that I won't get there now.

Funny how last week I felt FOXY as hell when the scales were going yay, but after Monday I was in the foulest of moods and gawked at myself in the mirror for ages, convinced that I had gained and my stomach looked bigger in that week.

See, the scales are evil.

But guess what, screw the scales! I just cannot let that get me down. I still have 8 weeks to go. I just need to be really, really careful about what I eat. For example, my new flatmate is Italian and keeps cooking the most lovely authentic dishes, but I can't keep eating! She made spinach and ricotta lasagne last night, which would be really healthy if she made it with low-fat ricotta and stuff like my sister and I did. But no, she put heaps of olive oil in the tomato sauce, and in between each layer she rips off big chunks of mozarella so when it cooks you get nice melty bits. And THEN there's parmesan galore.

I had two big pieces of it. It was too hard to resist. So shoot me.

It is very hard, this new living arrangement. It was easier with just my sis and I. But now there's new roomie and she cooks so much good stuff and her boyfriend comes over and they eat chocolate while watching the TV and make fresh bread and it's all so so so tempting. I am being strong but SHIT it's so hard.

. . .

Anyway enough of the negatives, I have to dwell on the GOOD things I've done this past week. Saturday I went to Body Combat! Wah! How bloody complicated it was! All this fancy footwork and elaborate punching and kicking and screaming. If you need an outlet for your stress, I highly recommend it. I muddled along at my own less than stellar pace, but I think I did pretty well. It was almost like dancing, I loved the music and the relentless pace. The next day my muscles were protesting. In particular the ones across my back that I never knew existed before, from all the hooks and uppercuts. My sister kept saying, "I don't believe we actually got off our arses and went to the class!". After a year at the gym we are finally just really going for it.

Then on Monday night we did Body Pump. Weights to music. Oh good lord. I couldn't believe how intense it was. It was like I'd only been scratching the surface with the weights routine I'd been doing before. This was something else. Everything they say about free weights being better for you than weights machines is TRUE OH TRUE. All these little muscles that you never knew you had start to tingle. Ahh.

The instructor is just one of those crazy balls of energy that make you want to keep going. It was wonderful. Then she said, "Okay, the next track is the squat track." A whole track of pure squatting? That's like four minutes! Oh I was so naive. But it was true, it was the whole damn track. When I put the bar down at the end of it I turned to my sister and we said "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" simultaneously. My legs were like jelly.

We also did a track for each shoulders, biceps, triceps, back, and lunges... arrrgh I almost died on the lunge track. We didn't change from one leg to the other until after the first chorus. I was mentally screaming "Hellooooo! I am dying here! What about the other leg!". When we finally changed legs the exercised one felt like jelly. Ooh.

We finished off with some abs, and I knew then that this class was a hundred times more beneficial than pissfarting around on my own out in the main gym, because my abs were feeling it, baby! With my "normal" routine, I never felt it half so much.

So two new classes, two hours in the gym that did more for me than 4-5 visits on my own. They pack everything into that hour, it's so much more efficient than standing around waiting for a treadmill or for some idiot to hurry up with a weights machine. Plus with the classes, you just have to keep going. There's no standing around scratching your butt or whining about being too tired to go on. You just have to get in there and do it.

So a couple of positive things did come out of that week. Hurrah.

I am slowing getting through an enourmous pile of emails so please bear with me. I am also attempting to write a 50,000 word novel during the month of November. See the NaNoWriMo site if you're not familiar with the concept.

Am I insane? Possibly.

Okay. Back to work. Have a good day, everyone.

Tutti Fruiti

There's an apple, an orange and a banana sitting beside me on my desk, and I can't decide which one of them to eat. None of them are appealing to me right now. Why aren't any of you Mars Bars? Useless bastards.

So I gained last night. An almighty 0.1kg, which equates to 0.22 of a pound. If I'd made another trip to the loo I'm sure I would have stayed the same. Mwahaha.

I didn't get upset, I didn't cry, but I made a brief statement of justification to the WW leader and the weigh-lady, describing briefly my rigorous weight-training schedule and the subsequent "fucked-up-ness" of my performance on the scales lately.

They were in complete agreement with me, saying that it would benefit me more in the long term to stick with the weight-training, the leader lady even threw in a heartwarming anecdote about a guy who climbed Everest and "If I looked at the whole mountain I'd never had climbed it. I just had to take it step by step". So despair not about your mountainous bulk, the WW team assured me, you'll get there slowly but surely.

Though reassured by their words, I was thoroughly disgusted at myself for being such a whinging git. Why the need to justify that pissy little gain to them? Why do I need to justify anything? Week after week I see people at WW get on the scale and gain and say "Oh, it's that time of the month, wink wink," or "Those chocolate biscuits were calling my name!" or "I didn't have time to exercise!" or whatever. Excuse after excuse. I guess I just wanted everyone to know that I AM NOT LIKE YOU PEOPLE! I bust my ass at this weight-loss caper so don't go thinking I am gonna give up! I am not one of you! I am not making excuses!

Aye.

I went to the gym a couple of hours later for our "heavy night", in which we do 3 sets of 6 reps on about the nastiest weight you can manage without dying. I love the 3x6 night, I feel so strong and foxy afterwards. Plus I managed to do my entire 20 minutes of cardio without dying. I know 20 doesn't sound like much but I'd already been dragged along by the dog for our daily walk, plus the hella heavy weights. I did a bit of an interval thing on the treadmill for that 20 mins, 3 minutes brisk pace then turn it right up so I am walking FLAT OUT for another three. Second interval I hoisted the treadmill onto the #5 incline and walked uphill. Ahh my calves! It was fantastic. It's much more fun fooling round like that than to just walk at the same pace the whole time.

Speaking of weights, I received a copy of Weight Training Workouts That Work from my Amazon.com wishlist. But it said on the invoice thingy that I'd ordered it myself? Que? I am sure I would have noticed a big chunk out of my credit card (Amazon.com prices converted to Aussie dollars is horrible). So which one of you lovely folks bought it for me? Please email me so I can thank you properly, I am very grateful and it's a cracker of a book! Thanks so much! :)

So, it's a new week and I am determined to do well. I booked myself another re-assessment at the gym on September 24, so I can get my measurments done again and see if there's any difference. So that's two weeks for me to KICK ASS so I can get the best possible assessment results.

Maybe if I chop up all the fruit onto a plate and make a banana mouth and apple wedge eyes like when I was kid, this fruit will seem more exciting? Hmmm.

A Step Backwards

So I've pretty much been hiding from this place after a lousy couple of weeks. Last Monday night I was spewing to find I'd gained 0.6kg (1.2lb). They had to move the slidey thing BACK UP. I was crushed.

For all my raving on about how "the scales don't matter", all it takes is them not going my way for me to crumble. I took my card back from the weigh-lady and fled outside and promptly started crying.

It's been a crazy, crazy week, with some extreme highs and lows and family happenings and work-related stresses, and I think it just took its toll on me. That gain felt to me like The End Of The World, I felt like my luck had finally run out and I was destined to stay this fat. I'd been so high, so full of hope and power, I think I was running on pure adrenaline at times. Then some non-diet things occurred and I fell in a heap. I just didn't feel strong anymore. I felt like the whole past nine months was a fraud and the real me, the insecure, out of control, fearful me, was back.

I also discovered Crunchie McFlurry's, and have eaten no less than three of them this week.

But while all that went on, I've been sticking to my gym regimen like clockwork. The weights program my friend designed for me really hammers me. I love it. It's very challenging. No girly pink weights here, baby. I am seeing results already. My legs are amazingly strong, I guess that's from lugging around my fat body for so long. I love the leg press, just coz I can press so damn much. Mwahaha. Even my weakling upper body is starting to get a bit of strength now, which is nice.

It alarms me to read of people vowing to do two hours of cardio a day in order to burn blubber. Do they really think they can keep that up? It's all about finding something realistic and practical. And that gives results. I really wish I'd started the weights earlier. I've got more results in the past 6 weeks than I got from 6 months of endless cardio.

When I'm at that gym I feel so good about myself, I can see the changes in my body, I see how things are toning up and how I'm getting smaller. But that all goes to hell as soon as I get on that scale. I was so miserable last week, finally I had to get together with my friend (the one who set up my weights program) and she told me bluntly that the scales were going to be "pretty fucked up" for awhile, while I gained muscle and my body went through it's "what the hell are you doing to me" phase. She told me I should get out the tape measure and forget about the scales altogether.

Sometimes I wonder why I bother with WW, coz it's $16 a week to get weighed. But I fear if I don't have that "oh god I gotta weigh on Monday" carrot dangling before me, I will be slack with my eating. But then I think about how that scale screws with my head, sometimes I think I should steer clear of it.

Bah. I don't know what to do.

I think it's all caught up with me this week, the enormity of the past 9 months and how much I've changed. I feel very tired and overwhelmed by how far I have to go. I feel burnt out. And tired. Very tired.

I'm very behind on emails. I've been in that dirty bitch of a mood so I thought I shouldn't be writing back to people when I'm in that frame of mind. So I sincerely apologise.

Weigh-in tonight. I'll try not to go crazy if I gain again. Can't promise though.

Bah. I will get past this. Don't go thinking I'm giving up or anything.

Grunt Yourself Thin

I've discovered pumping iron is far more fun if you grunt and carry on like Monica Seles. You know, that lovely "urrrrrnnnnnnnurrghhhhhh!" sound she makes when she whacks the ball? I like to do that when doing my gym thang. It cracks me up, and it's always easier to work out if you're having a laugh. You don't notice the glorious ache of your limbs so much. Plus it gets up the nose of the serious gym junkies, who prance around wearing tiny shorts and air of superiority, like they've got a ruler lodged firmly up their arse.

Just don't grunt too loud, otherwise you'll look like a real dickhead.

Last night I dreamed of the Weight Watchers scale. I really do look forward to my weigh-ins, unless I know I've had a crap week. But most Monday's I am jittery all day, coz I am just so damn keen to get on that scale. This week I must be keener than usual, coz last night I dreamed I sprinted into the WW class (okay, more of a gallumph than a sprint) and knocked over all the people obediently waiting in line and declared that I MUST be weighed right now. I barged the weigh-lady out of the way and lined up the weight then hopped on. The bar thingy went down with a BANG, that nice decisive sound when you KNOW you've had a good week. So I started moving the slidey thing down to get it to balance. But then weigh-lady hopped up and started fiddling with it, and it started swaying wildly.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT SCALE, WOMAN! I CAN DO IT MYSELLLLLLLLLLF!" I was screaming. But she persisted and I woke up ranting and raving and not knowing what the hell I'd lost.

Wonder if that's a good or bad omen for tonight? Or perhaps a subconscious memo: Miss Dietgirl, You Are Obsessing Too Much.

Never!

Number Crunching

Today I'm going to crap on about numbers. Woo.

I just got back from the gym where I had a fitness re-assessment. This means you get weighed again and poked and prodded and they re-jig your program.

I was slightly crushed coz Allison, my previous Fitness Chick, had gone overseas. This meant I had to have a new Fitness Chick, Cathy, who didn't know my whole sordid story and how grossly unfit I was last October when I joined the gym. She didn't know my struggles! My tale of woe! Because, dammit, I'm only in this weight loss caper for the fame and the adoration, so people can be amazed by my fantastical transformation from pork queen to svelte sex pot!

Note the gentle caress of sarcasm. Please don't email me and tell me I have the wrong motivations, blah blah blah. But come on, who doesn't get off on the "how did you lose so much weight?" and "oh my god i didn't recognise you!" and the "you are SO damn foxy these days, let us shag RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW" kind of talk? Be honest.

Anyway. The good thing about Allison was she was blown away last re-assessment coz I'd lost 17 kilos (37lb) from Oct 2000 (when I joined the gym) to early May (when the re-assessment was). What she didn't realise was that from that October to mid-January 2001, I had actually gained 15.2kg (33.5lb)! I didn't start losing until mid-January. So I had actually lost quite a bit more than she thought.

(But I didn't tell her that. Why would you tell someone that you gained 33.5 lb in just three and a half months!? I mean, good lord. That is an incredible feat of calorie scoffing. I still don't know how I did it. Oh actually I do know how I did it. I neglected that gym membership and spent the whole summer parked on the couch, moaning about the heat. Then came the Extra Large Quarter Pounder Value Meals 3 or 4 times a week. Family blocks of chocolate. Trifle. Lasagna. It was one long binge. I don't think I've written enough in here about just how badly I ate before. Now that I look back it scares me. I ate so bloody much. But that's another entry.)

Anyway, Fitness Chick Cathy was nice. I hopped on the scale and it said 121kg. Hurrah! Three months ago when I was last reassessed, it was 127.5 kg, so that's 6.5kg more gone.

If you're a mad keen follower of my progress chart you'll note that 121 kg is way below the weight on the progress chart. This is because the gym scales are about 5 kilos lighter. Ya gotta love scales like that. Anyway, since I joined the gym last October I've lost 23 kilos according to the gym scales. Which is about ten kilos less than what I've lost at WW since January 15.

Are you confused? So you should be. I know I am.

The summary is: there's two ways you could tell my weight loss story. You could either say I've lost 23 kilos since October 2000, or you could say I've lost 33 kilos since January 2001 and ignore the whole Summer 2001: Endless Binge episode. Hmm, I think I know which story I prefer.

I know the more I get into this caper, the harder it will be for results to show on the scale. So I got Cathy to take my measurements:

Tricep: huge
Bicep: huge
Bust: Hello Dolly
Waist: comparable to the circumference of Jupiter
Hips: huge
Thighs: elephantine
Calf: baby elephantine

I'm not going to share those numbers with you. Urgh. Anyway, I got a new program. I need to go about 4-5 times a week now.

(I went five times last week! God I felt fantastic! My shoulder wasn't hurting at all. I strutted round the gym feeling damn smug and fit-like, until I tripped over some dumbells or looked in the mirror at my voluminous stomach and got all pouty again.)

I marvel at my ability to swing from loving to hating my body in mere seconds. I can be swishing around on the cross-trainer and thinking, "Hey my legs look smaller" then a minute later, look at my upper body and swear that my stomach has gotten bigger. So I stop swishing and smooth my t-shirt down to see if that makes it look any better, and if it doesn't I start crying on the inside, oh god I'm never going to shift this lard.

You have to prepare yourself for these mood swings. Like last week, when I gained half a kilo at WW, I had to come up with some other way of reassuring myself that I was still losing, otherwise I'd have plunged into a moody little funk. So I get out my grey pants that three months ago were skin tight, and admire how they are now baggy as hell round the waist and I have to yoink them right up over my navel like an old man just so they'll stay up. Or I'll go to the gym and count how many levels of cross-trainer I can now do compared with before, or how much quicker I can do a kilometre on the treadmill than before.

I have a Year Planner chart in the back of my work diary with a little box for each day. I've been writing my weigh-in results in there every week. Then I calculate how much I've lost per month. If a particular month's figure depresses me, I'll draw up little graphs of how long it's taking me to lose a 5 kilo block. Then I calculate averages, and based on those averages I get projections and I can forecast how long it should take me to reach my goal weight.

I'm always devising new ways to obsess about my weight loss capers. If I don't like my weigh-in result tonight, I assure you I can manipulate the data and spit out something that will make me feel better.

Just recently I realised how ridiculous all this number crunching is. My projections were based on an average loss of 3-4 kilos (6.6-8.8lbs) per month. Now that is just plain unrealistic. Fair enough for the first few months when I was blasting off the top o most layer of lard, but from now on it's going to be a lot harder. Plus all the muscle building will slow down the scale a bit.

Then there's the matter of the goal weight I set for myself - 69 kilos (152lb). I haven't weight that little since I was 13 years old. I just chose 69kg coz it's under 70kg therefore in my warped little mind it sounded skinnier. What the hell does the number matter anyway? And why am I even thinking about goal weights when I am soooooooo ridiculously far away from them?

Coz I'm obsessive and I love to quantify my achievements, I guess. Anyway, 75kg (165lb) is much more realistic. We'll see. I think I'll know when I look how I want to look. I'm not going to bust my arse to a tiny number, just to get that crappy little WW Lifetime Member pin.

Anyway. I can't promise that I'll stop obsessing about the numbers, but I will try and be a little more realistic. I promise not to hiss and spit at the WW weigh-in lady if I don't like the scale tonight.

...

In other news, I've nearly finished replying to all your emails. Thanks again for being patient and just so bloody brilliant! I've gotten some very inspirational stuff.

Bored? You must go to Pound. I only found her the other day and I had to go back and read her entire archive. I laughed my arse off but also very nearly cried at some of her writing. She can be scorchingly funny then underneath you often leave with this achy kind of feeling. So insightful and honest and just plain brilliant reading. Go forth!

Back tomorrow with the WW post mortem.