Mints of Satan

Things I have learned this week:

1. SMINTS are evil
I thought I’d get a wee box of mints to distract my tastebuds between meals at work. I try to avoid them coz of all the weird ingredients but I was really horrified to read the label and see they contain hydrogenated vegetable oil! That evil gloop in something so tiny and innocent as mint? Is nothing sacred?

2. Don’t eat a whole tin of baked beans for lunch
Especially when you’re at work. We get our groceries delivered Monday afternoon so sometimes we’ve run out of stuff by Monday morning. The salad stuff had died so all I had was a wholemeal pita and one tin of beans. OH GOD. I had to keep running from the room to fart. Then I’d let one out now and then as I walked home. Luckily the streets were deserted, or had I just killed everyone with my vile fumes? Hmm.

3. My reading comprehension skills are shite
When I go running I write Julia’s instructions on a post-it note. Last Sunday’s schedule included 15 x run 2′ walk 1′. But I wrote down run 15 x 3′ walk 1′. So that adds up to an extra fifteen minutes, which may not sound like a lot but when you’re starting from absolute zero in terms of running fitness and slowly building up – this was huge. We’d also been on a two-hour hike earlier that day. I somehow managed to do it, plus the extra 1km straight run after that, but my legs were absolute jelly and I was so red-faced it lasted for hours and SC’s parents thought I had severe sunburn. I was hobbling around all week. Only the next day did I realise I’d written the instructions wrong. D’oh!

My right leg, particularly my knee and shin, has been giving me trouble ever since. It comes and goes but whenever I started to run, go up and down hills or stairs it would hurt. Felt sort of grindy and weird. I’ve had twinges there since I started this whole running thing, but I didn’t know (and still don’t) if it was classed as soreness, a slight ache or outright pain. I’ve never been good at judging pain. Growing up on a farm there was no place for wimps, so if I told Mum I had a sore leg she’d say, "Okay, I’ll cut it off for you!". She wouldn’t let us have a day off school unless we were, quote, "Dead or dying".

So I tend to ignore aches and pains, but this has backfired on me over the years. Like a few years ago ignored my aching shoulder and forearm to the point where I could not move my arm at all and I was bawling from pain. I didn’t want to wimp to my boss that the mouse and repetitive web work had struck me down but in the end I had to have time off work and months of physiotherapy for something that could have been okay if treated earlier. Sigh. So anyway now I am consulting with Julia and have rested the past two days except for a Pump class and today is Active Rest with a stint on the stationery bike. Hopefully I haven’t royally screwed things up.

4. Brown basmati rice rules!
I like zapping some leftover rice, then stirring in some extra-virgin olive oil, black pepper, lemon juice, Herbamare and a wee tin of tuna. For some reason that all goes together beautifully. I wish I could just live off dishes like that. You know, random things chucked in a pot.

5.  It’s time for new jeans
My jeans are sufficiently baggy to pass the Put Them On Without Needing To Undo The Zip And Button test. Woohoo! It has taken so long! I bought these stinking jeans in November 2003. I’ve decided to put off the purchase until July when my sister and friends will be visiting for the wedding party; that way I can shape up a bit more and buy the best fit possible. Huzzah!

. . .

So this week I’ve either lost 0.7 kilos if you go down from two weeks ago, or lost 2.3 kilos if you count it from the Freaky Bloatfest of last week. I put a fresh battery in the scale since it started flashing Lo! on Monday so it should be accurate. I am really happy with the result and just goes to show, if you don’t eat biscuits with your cup of tea IT ACTUALLY MAKES A DIFFERENCE! If I just stop before snacking and ask, "Do I need this? Could I choose something healthier?", it actually adds up to less calories consumed and better results. Well, derr!

Wednesday Weigh-In – Week Nineteen

last update: 25 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: 86.2 kg (190 lb)
current bmi: 28.9

result this week: -0.7 kg (1.5 lb)

loss in 2005: -9.7 kg (21.3 lb)
total loss since 2001: -73 kg (160.9 lb)

initial goal weight: 75 kg (165 lb)
distance to goal: 11.2 kg  (24.7 lb)

Get Some Pants

I don't have to go to physiotherapy anymore. Apparently I am all cured, she even joked that I must have had a "back transplant", because it had improved SO much so quickly. She said it was all due to my hard work and willingness to change. She says she gets so many people that waltz in expecting a miracle cure without them having to do anything, without them having to change any bad habits.

I was very flattered but said to her, after this weight loss shennanigans, what's one more change in my life? I can handle anything now. Ha ha.

She also told me that I should buy some new pants, the ones I had on were falling down. That made my day!

Funny how change becomes easier the more you do it. Back in January I felt paralysed with fear, I felt trapped in my body. I felt totally incapable of improving my situation. I just simply couldn't see how I could possibly ever feel any better than I did back then. Which was pretty damn crap.

But little by little things changed. The key for me was starting out small. First thing was to get into the kitchen and throw out all the junk food, and organise the room so it felt more inviting. If your kitchen's clean and organised you're more inclined to cook, as opposed to cruising by Macca's for a Quarter Pounder meal.

So after that I felt more prepared to start to change my eating habits. Mine were in a shocking state so I went to WW.

Once I'd learned good eating habits, I began to tackle the exercise thing, starting out with just huffing and puffing my way around the block.

I promise you, your confidence will grow and you'll just want to do more and more. It gets addictive, this change thing.

If the big picture overwhelms you, begin with some small changes. Rome didn't become a fat ass in a day. You can't expect to overhaul years of bad habits all at once.

Start small, but dream big. Big fat lardy dreams.

Runs With Puppy Dogs

This is what you get for writing long, rambling entries about what a champion weight loss supastar you are, being so smug and wise. It is now a few hours before my weigh-in and I feel like a total PORK.

Sometimes you can just feel it in your bones that you're headed for a non-pleasant rendevous with the scales. Right now my ovaries are starting their monthly rat-a-tatting, it's the dreaded Week Before where I am a moody shit and want to make love to a family block of Cadbury's Dairy Milk.

And surely it's not water I'm retaining. It feels like wet cement. So be prepared for an onslaught of Cranky Dietgirl entries over the next little while.

Of course I am not one to blame my problems on my women's troubles. That's what contributed to me nicking off from many a dieter's forum online, I got sick of people reading memebers blame everything on "T.O.M." or "Aunt Flo" or "The Great Red Sea Of Hell" (I made that last one up). Fair enough you can expect to gain a little then but too many of them seem to use it as excuse to not exercise or eat a pound of peanut butter. For me, exercise really helps. The aching muscles after a good workout ensure you don't notice the pirahnas gnashing away in your womb half as much!

Anyway. I don't dig those online forums. Too many silly abbreviations. OP=on program. TOM=time of month. FF=fat free. LF=low fat. ALILNAWDWBC=ate a litre of icecream last night and washed it down with a bucket of chocolates. Etcetera.

I am also cranky because I haven't done enough exercise. I was SO fired up at the beginning of the week after the great loss on Monday and an inspiring new copy of Slimming magazine (I am so going to be in that magazine someday! Just you wait. Slimmer of the Year 2003). I was all ready to start some light weight training and step up the cardio a bit, but my stupid injury reared it's ugly head. I have some screwy bits of back and shoulder thanks the Korean Sweatshop I work in, or should I say Prestigious Web Company, from rather repetitive work. I am having physiotherapy for it and thought it was improving. The physio was pleased with my weight-loss and exercise regime, but told me I needed to build some muscle, and in particular get some strength in my back. She told me to keep up with the rowing machine and showed me some exercises to do with free weights. I should have known better, really, because on Friday I couldn't even lift my coffee cup, my shoulder/arm/wrist hurt so severely. On Saturday I thought it felt a bit better so I got the most teeeeeeeny tiny one kilogram weights and attempted the exercise. AAAAAAARGH! I felt like my arm was being ripped from the socket. I almost cried.

On Sunday (yesterday) I couldn't even hold onto the arms of the cross-trainer machine with my right hand, it's not at all strenuous, but with the gammy shoulder it was hell. I ended up doing some light stretches and my sister showed me some easy moves from her Pilates class.

But I was CRANKY! So cranky, I tells ya. Why? Because I am FINALLY getting my health in order and I am just RARING to go! I desperately want to step up my exercise and  just simply can't bloody do it at the moment because of my STUPID arm. It sucks that sitting on my arse at work ended up getting me injured. Sigh. Heal! Heal, you damn body!!!

It's amazing how I am just craving to do more. Last night I was out walking the dog, very awkwardly as I had to hold the leash in my left hand. It was right on dark, about 5.45pm, very quiet on the streets. Suddenly I just got this overwhelming urge to run. So I gallumphed down a slight hill. I lasted about 20 seconds before I started coughing and sputtering. Classy. But I felt a little rush and had a sudden spring in my step. The dog went crazy, bouncing up and down, probably because it was the most vigorous activity he'd ever seen from me.

We went around the corner and I decided to head back as it was a bit too scary and dark to stay out. Near the top of the hill I stopped, squinted in the blackness to see if anyone was around. Nope. So I said to the dog, "Let's go, boy!" and started jogging up the hill. That felt a bit too jerky, so I sped up until I was full on running! It felt fantastic! I felt like I was flying! I felt so alive! I had a huge grin on my gob. The dog barked happily and I raised my hands in the air and cheered as if I was bursting through the tape in the 100 metres final. But finally my big lump of a body had had enough and I stopped, breathing hard. Then I looked around to see how far I'd jogged. About 20 bloody metres.

Oh well. Ya gotta start somewhere.