I'm humbled by the calls of friends here wondering where I've been. Nothing to fear, I am doing very well. I've just made some changes in my life. I'm not blogging as much, because I'm not at home as much.
I took a long look at myself, my lifestyle and relationships and made some big changes. I've mentioned the fears about my health, the family history behind them, and on January 23rd, I began to take care of it. I'm in the gym three days a week, I'm meeting up with friends for coffee a few mornings a week and I've been on a very strict diet. Soon I won't feel like this anymore. I put Shortie in the daycare a few hours a week and it's done wonders for her to play with other kids, and be away from me for a little while. She's changing so much, that a change was important for her too.
I've managed to lose twenty pounds so far and I have a lot more to shift. I have a very tricky body; it can store fat in such a way that people never think I'm really fat. I may look chubby, but I'm somewhat tall, with a large frame - it's been very easy to ignore the weight gain. Folks never believe me when I tell them my real weight, folks always looked shocked and concerned when I tell them how much weight I want to lose. The thing is, I think it's been easy for some folks to have me be big - makes me less of a threat, keeps me insecure, keeps me from being more visible because of the shame.
I started putting on the weight when I emigrated - I was very depressed and homesick for a few years, then I was pregnant, then I was exhausted from working full-time and being a Mum, then I was pregnant again...that's in summary anyways. So now...I'm no longer homesick, I'm not going to be pregnant anymore - I'm out of excuses.
I'm doing loads of aerobic activity - I walk everywhere (always have done, but now I make sure to go up the big hills and not walk around them) I aim for 400 calories burned per gym session, weightlifting and bouncing on my trampoline - with the super-but-ugly bra and not giving a shit if I'm sweaty and red as a beetroot - I'm having to tell myself often to just fucking do it, and find the fun.
Several weeks on, I'm finding the fun. I annoy folks in the gym. In the beginning, I think they thought I was "special" because I would bounce, tap my hands and mumble to myself and dance about while using the bike or treadmill. It's the only way I can find it fun - it's desperately boring otherwise. I have music in my head, and I bee-bop about forcing myself to have fun. I get lots of looks, a few stares but now they're getting used to me, I think. A couple of the regulars (the gym freaks - they pound the shit out the machines and eat nothing but poached chicken and raw veg) have started talking to me, even being nice to me. Acceptance?
Dietwise, well It's been interesting. I fast on a Monday, fluids only - I do this to give my digestion a break, let it clear out and it helps to make everything all work more efficiently. Tuesday is fresh fruit and veg all day, as much as I want - I've found I like lots of veggies I've not bothered with before, like butternut squash, fennel, celery and I eat tons of beetroot and fruit smoothies. Wednesday I have a fruit smoothie for breakfast, fish or chicken with veg for lunch and the same again for dinner. From Thursday to Saturday I eat whatever I want but keep my calories between 1000-1500, so that means if I want chocolate, or cake I can have it.
I have to completely cut out some foods, because they make me go nuts and have mad cravings. These are mostly porkie foods; bacon, sausages and ham. Breakfast cereal makes me crave sweets, so I've cut way back on that too. I log all my foods on Fitday and it helps keep me focused and encourages me to say "no" more often.
I didn't want to blog about this stuff - I figured it was boring and made me look lame. Isn't there shame associated with admitting you've not been in control for a long time? I ate a lot of junk food, cake and sweets as a way to treat myself - even more so I'm not in work. I don't get the "Good job" "Well done" "Excellent work" encouragements I like to receive. I feel unappreciated a lot of the time. No one cares how well I wash dishes, or fold laundry - they often care if I cook a nice meal, but it's not the same as table service, and finding a fiver on the table as a tip would be joyous, but I have yet to find one tucked under a plate. So, I treat myself, tell me I've done well and eat lovely wee cakes, well, not anymore I don't. Now when I want a treat, I tell someone I love them, and hearing "I love you too" is sweet enough.
The day will come when I can look down and see the scale reading 130lbs, and I'll be happy. And healthy too, let's not forget that. But I do have some ways to go now...and anxiety follows me at every step. I may need to blog more on Mondays, especially rainy, crappy one's like today when I can't get out and the kitchen is close by.