It's Christmas Time...there's no need to be afraid....

It’s been a while since my last blog, in November, but since then, the Christmas season has arrived, bringing with it busyness, hysteria and increasing demands upon everyone’s time and energy. Not that I don‘t love it, but all this festiveness gets in the way of one’s blogging activities….. In the three weeks since my last entry, I’m pleased to say that I have dropped another 15 pounds, bringing my total loss to 8stone 9lbs since I began this journey in May. More importantly, as we entered December I met my second target, to have lost eight stone and become two-thirds the woman that I started off as. I have friends and colleagues that weigh less than I have lost, and that is a truly sobering thought – had I been asked to carry them on my back 24/7 I would have balked at the thought, but, technically, that is what I had been doing for years. Frightening, just frightening…. It’s been quite the fortnight for milestones, I had my first official “day off plan” on December 9th at  a “Team  Breakfast”, and also  on December  11th when I attended a Dinner Dance with my colleagues. Before that, I had completed 190 days of being 100% ‘On Plan’, with no cheats, deviations or “just one…”s for that entire period. Looking back, I wasn’t convinced that I would make it through one week, yet, somehow, I have managed that 27-fold. I couldn’t really explain how, either, I just seemed to do it. And I am grateful for the amazing support and encouragement that has buoyed me along on my journey so far. To be honest, at both the Breakfast and Dinner, I surprised myself by not being as hungry as I expected to be. I had decided to make healthy choices for my meals, but there were still allowances, and, thankfully, my demons stayed at bay on both occasions.   I did have vision s of disgracing myself thoroughly at the dinner table, the starved woman on a feeding frenzy after months of deprivation.  Anticipating the forthcoming celebrations, I imagined myself, face deep in the gravy and custard, snorting like a pig at a trough, emerging only to gasp for air and wipe the cream from my eyebrows…. …Dearest reader, you will be relieved to hear that such a spectacle was not witnessed by my peers, nor the other unsuspecting guests at the respective establishments….  I cannot even say that I struggled with resisting temptation or felt denied… I did indulge a little, but, frankly, the urge to splurge was simply not there.  I ate…I drank only water…but was mostly merry.   It was a brand new experience – to anticipate the event and the company more than the food that would be on my plate. This is a very unique concept to me. In past times, the meal would be the highlight of any social gathering. I looked forward to the food, and usually was planning dessert before the starter was even served. This, on reflection, is incredibly insulting to any friends with whom I have enjoyed many a calorific night out. As much as I love and adore them, my true First Love was always the food, my priorities rested firmly with filling my face. How sad……

It is such a liberating and refreshing feeling to have shifted the focus onto more fulfilling pursuits. And, what’s more, the following day was not blighted by regret and that uncomfortable over-stuffed feeling…. Winner, winner, (turkey) dinner……

Another aspect of the social events that certainly highlighted the Dinner Dance for me was the fact that I got to dress up for the night and show off my newly regained curves. I deliberated for a long time in finding the right outfit for the evening, and eventually settled on a black glittery, figure-hugging knee-length dress. And I was utterly delighted to find that I could fit comfortably into a size 18. Considering I started off in a size 24/26, just seven months ago, that is quite an achievement. The big thing for me, was showing off my legs for the first time in a very, very long time. Since I have worked at my current office for the past three and a half years, my colleagues have never been witness to anything more than a sock-covered ankle under boots and trousers. But on that evening, they got the full Mid-thigh to Toe experience (albeit clothed in black tights) topped with a pair of sparkling black heels. And I have to admit, I felt like a million dollars. The compliments and remarks I received were overwhelming and just further encouraged me to keep going.

Now I know that my greatest focus in this weight loss journey has been on regaining my health and extending my longevity, but I cannot deny that I am enjoying all the attention and positive feedback that I am receiving for the way I am starting to look. I used to think that I was a naturally confident person despite my weight, but my confidence has increased considerably since the weight has begun to come off. Perhaps I was just fooling myself and, underneath was as insecure and self-hating as your average fat girl is believed to be. In fact, there is no perhaps, I clearly was just pretending to myself. All this adulation and attention just add to it. But there is an inherent danger in listening too hard and taking to heart too much the compliments and niceties that I am receiving right now.

I have an addictive personality. It was my compulsion to consume unhealthy, especially sugary, foods that led me to needing to drastically lose weight in the first place. Right now my addiction to food appears to be “in recovery” but I must remain all too aware that addictions can manifest themselves in many forms. I am not just talking about compulsions to eat and drink, there are also addictions to patterns of behaviour and emotional states that can be equally as damaging, perhaps not to the body, but certainly to the soul. And when the soul is wounded, all too often the body will follow.

Right now, it is lovely to bathe in the glow of the positive strokes from my peers, it feels good to be praised. But this state of change is only temporary. Whilst I am still in the process of evolving to the healthy person I aspire to be, I attract attention. But, one day, I will, hopefully achieve my goal and the slim/healthy person I want to be will become my “normal” state. 

And normality is boring, it does not merit the reactions from others that I am receiving now. As a “normal” person, I will lose my “superhero” status, I will no longer be able to cash in on my success. I will just be an average person, and will have to reluctantly hand over the mantle to a more deserving newcomer. And I worry that I will have become addicted to being the centre of attention, I fear that I will rapidly deflate when this is no longer the case.

I have been here before…I mentioned in one of my early blogs that, at a previous weight loss attempt, I joined a slimming club and, very early on, set my sights on claiming the Slimmer of the Year accolade. That was my top motivation and what drove me to lose five stones. I became competitive and obsessed… I did, in fact, take the title that I yearned for, but it soon became a hollow victory. Almost soon as I had posed for pictures, held my trophy aloft and removed the winners’ sash, my downfall was almost inevitable. I had achieved my goal and left myself nowhere else to go…the spotlight faded….the curtain dropped…and I became a Nobody again.

I know now, that instead of feeding on food, I was feeding off of attention. I craved and needed to be noticed and praised. And when this no longer happened, through no fault of any others, I returned to the one comfort I knew gave me that temporary boost – food. And, rapidly, I slid back into my old habits.

I understand, now, the folly of my thinking, and realise that I must learn other ways to nourish my soul and protect my body. I’m still working on this, and haven’t found the full answer yet. I do wonder if there is actually “an answer”. Perhaps the trick is just to remain on the path that I am currently on; to not seek out a goal except for that of a healthy and extended life. As the “weight goal” is now actually visible on the distant horizon, I am starting to think about how I will sustain the weight loss for the rest of my life. How will I resist the urge to return to my old habits, and ultimately undo all the work that I have done so far? I don’t know exactly how I am going to do it, but hope that thus mental and emotional shift that I am undergoing, for the first time ever, whilst losing weight, will help me find my way. What I do know is that, whilst I can’t go back to old habits, I also can’t continue on the same method I am losing weight now, as it would not work in sustaining a healthy weight in the long term. There is still much challenge ahead, I just hope that I can rise to it. Right now, all I can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and continue to trust and hope. This is probably the last blog I will write before Christmas, and, despite the couple of days off, I have no intention of blowing it all “just because it’s Christmas”. True, I shall allow myself to indulge on Christmas Day and Boxing Day, but on other days I have no intention of coming off plan. My decision has been questioned by many, particularly those who see the festive season as an excuse to throw caution to the wind and over indulge.  I may well do that over future Christmases, but, for me, this year is critical. I am still carrying far too much weight for my frame, and cannot afford to add to it. Maybe, in years to come, I can allow myself some leeway, but not this year.  To me, it would be the equivalent of ceasing life-saving medication “because it’s Christmas”…it would be like driving without a seatbelt “because it’s Christmas”….Right now, I am on a course set to save and prolong my life, why would I be foolish enough to risk gaining much of the weight, all in the name of a festivity that is celebrated every year. Yes, this Christmas, for me will possibly a little less traditional, it may not be quite as abandoned and jolly, the merry-making will involve less consumption…but, hey, it is only one Christmas in many….in fact, I hope to enjoy more Christmases then expected in the future, as a direct result of the decisions and choices I make this year…. …Wish me Luck….

.and a Happy, Healthy Christmas to all of you…..

Let It Go......

Ladies and gentlemen, I have a weakness to confess…recent events in my life are leading me to understand that I have a real problem with Letting Go…
They say that if you keep encountering the same negative scenarios in your life, then you still haven't learned the lessons that God/The Universe/Life ( delete where appropriate) is trying to teach you . And that realisation has hit me full in the face this week.  I won’t go into details, but the spectre of narcissism  has reared its ugly head once again, and I am finding myself falling into the same traps that I always do. When things kick off, I allow myself to assume, maybe even promote myself in the role of “rescuer” – I wade in with my size 8 Hobnails and try to fix things. Things which I cannot fix….

The problem is that, more often than not, my intervention has been uninvited, my assistance unwelcome, or my aid inappropriate. In the worst case scenario I end up becoming the scapegoat, pilloried for my good intentions. At best I am left bitter and frustrated that I couldn’t “make things better”. Why do I do this? I’m still trying to work that out completely but I am starting to wonder if my motivations are not entirely altruistic. I wish that I could profess, with utmost sincerity, that my deeds were entirely derived from  self-sacrifice…but they’re not. 

I hate conflict, I detest discord, broken things and people make me uncomfortable, yet I gravitate towards them and am driven by a powerful urge to rectify and fix them.
To quote the dwarf, Tyrion – my favourite Game of Thrones character: “ "I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things,". And fans of GOT will be highly aware that Tyrion himself is damaged goods with addiction issues and certainly the product of the ultimate dysfunctional family. No wonder I like him…

This blog has become for me, less of a journey in losing weight, and more of a quest for truth. So if I am to move on in this journey I must embrace all truths. I am starting to understand that my need to fix things, my self-appointment in the role of rescuer and fixer comes from behaviours set when I was very young. 

My family home was incredibly volatile, emotional and mental abuse abounded, the vast majority of it directed at my mother by my alcoholic father. Although there was minimal violence, the threat always permeated through our home. As a child, I just wanted it to stop. Every child feels this way, shouting and aggression is very scary – crying makes you sad. And at a tender age I discovered  that if I intervened I could detract the attention away from my mother.  I am very similar to my father in character and, somehow, I could speak in the language that would stop him in his tracks. Even if only for a little while. And that felt good. My actions were able to temporarily take away the nastiness that pervaded and I would stop feeling so horrible. The problem was, I was too good at it, and soon my family members realised that my intervention in such scenarios had the ability to assuage the conflict, and so, as is natural in a self-preservation situation, they empowered me to do this. Soon the role was encouraged, it was bestowed on me – I was put on a tenuous pedestal, declaring me “Family Rescuer”. Even after I left home, and the conflicts continued without me, I received calls imploring me to intervene from relatives, asking me to “work my magic”. And, to be brutally frank, I got off on this role, this power that had been allotted to me. It made me feel good, it- it gave me some superiority over my peers. It probably bred a form of narcissism within me.

There was one huge flaw in this plan. My family were acting as if they were worshiping a false god – Me! And the only person that truly believed in this god was myself. 

I am not going to blame my family for I am starting to understand that they were doing what was necessary to survive. I have been angry, I have felt betrayed and manipulated but I now realise that I was equally as guilty, by participation, in perpetuating in this dysfunction. After all, if I was prepared to throw myself into the lions’ pit to take the heat off them, who were they to argue? 

And so they built up this false idol, founded on my broken self-esteem, and it grew to uncontrollable proportions. The curious thing is that, even back then, my efforts always seemed to backfire on me – I got bitten, and I got left with a bitter taste in my mouth. And what is the best antidote for having eaten something bitter? Eat something sweet! So that is what I did – absolutely literally- I consumed large amounts of sugary, unhealthy foods in order to push down the terrible feelings of failure, guilt and regret. Until the next time my services were called upon…. And thus the cycle continued….

Sadly this weakness has continued to permeate throughout my life, not just through my family relationships, but through my work… I find myself striving to fight battles long after the war has been lost to the point where I am utterly exhausted. I wade in to fights that are not mine….I find I am filled with righteous indignation when I witness an injustice. But I have to look deep within and realise that my actions are, more often than not, highly egocentric.
I am an Empath, it is in my nature and character to feel and absorb the emotions of people around me, especially other people’s pain, which can affect me deeply. I can’t help that, it just happens, it always has and maybe always will. This can have a positive impact, it can endear me to people, it allows me to fit in easily in most social situations, I am mainly perceived as a “nice person”…But the downside is that, when there is a large amount of negative energy around me, I am dragged down, drained. And like the little girl watching her parents fight , I want to make it stop and to dispel the pain I am feeling. As I am progressing in my weight loss journey I am no longer able to use food as a way to suppress these feelings, so, instead I just redouble my efforts to control the conflict. I hurl myself headlong into negative and volatile situations in order to appease the insecure child within. I am doing it to repair and boost my damaged ego. Not very admirable. Not very healthy.

So how does this apply to my weight loss journey? It actually is probably at the centre of my motivation right now. Currently I am enjoying great success, and seeing great results. I share this success and, in return, so many people commend me for my tenacity and dogged determination, my willpower in sticking to the plan 100% all this time. I have conveniently and undoubtedly placed myself in the spotlight as a result of my behaviour. There is a positive pay-off in this, I do realise. Others are inspired by my success and spurred on to do the same themselves.
But, unfortunately, that bitter taste still lingers and something in the back of my head is making me very uncomfortable.
It is fear. That ubiquitous, persistent fear of failure. That nagging worry that I am setting myself up for a fall. So to shut these feelings down I push myself forward again into “the fight” – this time it’s the fight against food, the battle with my demons.
Now you may be thinking “that can only be a good thing”. Well, right now it is, for all my energy, my determination, my doggedness (they call me “the Bulldog” at work, because once I get my teeth into things I don’t let go….. I used to think it was a compliment…) is directed into losing weight. I am obsessed, driven by an unhealthy urge to win. The issue remains, however, is what to do when the battle is won, when I have no outlet for this angst and energy. Like the Beserkers of the Norse battlefield or the proverbial Tasmanian Devil, I could be spinning out of control. I have been there before. In previous weight loss efforts, once I had reached a goal I had set myself, I lost control…and span headlong back into weight gain and unhealthy choices.

So I am slowly coming to the conclusion that I must find a new approach. And this is where Letting Go comes in. This does not mean that I have to give up on the weight loss efforts or slow down my attempts. What I need to learn to do detach from this obsessive need to succeed and to remove my ego from this journey. I cannot deny that I have been basking in the admiration of my peers for my achievements. I also cannot deny that I have a right to feel proud. But what I must do is to dispel this false god I am allowing to be created all over again. The god that nobody else believes in but me. 
In my distorted head I have been telling myself that I cannot and must not fail, that I cannot fall because those that have expressed admiration in me “will feel let down”, that “people are looking up to me” “they are relying on me to inspire”. What utter bullshit. I am buying in to the myth that was sold to me in my childhood about my indispensability, the necessity of my contribution, my intrinsic importance in the grand scheme of things. Ego – pure ego. 
And what comes with this sense of obligation to uphold the image that I think I have created, is that  I am putting myself under incredible pressure and setting impossible standards. 
This, I think, is why so many seemingly normal people in the public eye succumb to drink and drugs. Just like I have used food. Don’t get me wrong, I am not comparing myself to a celebrity in any way, but I feel that I am behaving in a similar manner. So I must liberate myself, I must let go…I must step away and detach and learn to do what is best for me, and only me. I need to allow others to make their own choice, learn from their own mistakes and to stop casting myself as the Impossible Hero in the story of anyone’s life but my own. 
So now I know what I have to do. 
Next I have to learn how to do it
…Wish Me Luck….

Hitting the Century....

Things are going pretty well on my journey to weight loss right now. Last night I had my first weigh in for three weeks.. My consultant had gone away on a trip to Mauritius - a 50th birthday treat from her children - and so I was left to my own devices for 21 days. Now, as I mentioned in my last blog, it was highly tempting to see my consultant's holiday as a "holiday" of my own....but I held fast...
And I have reaped the rewards. As I stepped on the scales, I was told that, over the past three weeks I had lost twelve pounds. A very good result indeed. This was a triple celebration as not only had there been a substantial loss, I had also passed two more weight loss landmarks. Firstly I had lost over seven stone, and attained the coveted Purple Rosette (my favourite colour!!); secondly - I have bypassed the "100 pounds lost" mark. Both very gratifying achievements.
I am currently edging towards "unmarked territory", although, arguably, I am already there. Although I have weighed less than I currently do now, I have never lost this amount of weight in one single attempt before. In previous efforts, the sticking point seems to be around the five to five and half stone mark, but, so far, I appear to be breezing through that. I have also completed 163 days of being 100% on plan - no deviations, no cheats, no 'just a slice'...and, when I look back I amaze myself. I had no idea that I possessed the willpower and motivation to keep going like this.
Oh, and another thing - the amount of weight I have lost is now more than my daughter weighs! Finally - I can officially announce that I have lost all of my "Baby Weight"!! And it only took me 14 years to do it!!
I now have my next goal firmly in my sights. There are six weeks until Christmas. If I can lose another eight pounds by then, I will have shed exactly eight stones, and can formally declare myself to be exactly two thirds of the woman that I used to be...
People are really starting to notice the weight loss on me, hardly a day goes by when I am not approached by someone offering a compliment or remark. The inevitable question always follows: "How have you been doing it?"
As wonderful as it is to have people notice that you've lost weight, sometimes I find that I can suffer from "Compliment Fatigue". I know that this sounds incredibly ungrateful and ungracious, but bear with me....
It's not so much the question I mind, but when folks are clearly disappointed that I'm not about to impart the 'holy grail' of pain-free, easy slimming, I can sense bitter disappointment, and that can bring me down. Some folks don't want to hear that it's been a struggle of both body and mind (and, frankly, they don't accept that suggestion anyway), they are desperately asking for the secret formula of the "wonder pill" that you have clearly been taking. They (as did I) are craving the "quick fix" to undo years of bad and unhealthy habits. It's an unfortunate symptom of our times.
So I've come up with a new strategy. 

I like messing with people's heads anyway, it's defintiely one of my favourite hobbies. 

Now, each time I am asked for the secret of my weight loss, I come up with a more bizarre and conversation-halting reason. 

So far this week I've attributed my slimmer look to Ebola, a Tapeworm and a case of Galloping Dysentery..... It's such entertainment watching the faces of the inquisitors as they try to work out if I'm being serious or not. The more deadpan the expression, the more effective it is! Try it sometime!!

Clothes shopping is becoming more of a pleasure these days. Every Plus-Size person understands the pain of searching the mainstream shop floors for the clothes that will fit you - size and fit are a priority over style. Recently I bought myself a new pair of knee-high boots and, saints alive(!) got myself into a pair of skinny jeans. There was much prancing around the house on that day, I can tell you. My husband, a self appointed aficionado of womens' footwear fashion (in his dreams! was less keen on my boots - judging my chunky biker boots to be "too mannish" (not that I care - he doesn't get to wear them!).What he is fonder of, however, are the tartan pyjamas I bought in Primark recently...I'm not sure if it's fact that he's Scottish, but the sight of me in plaid p-js seems to get his Caledonian blood racing. No complaints there. 

To have purchased something for myself from Primark is something of a milestone for me. I was always too big for their items and had to resign myself to the larger clothes retailers which, having sensed a gap in the market, had succeeded in marking up their items more expensively. Very unfair, I think - but don't get me started on that..... I did used to enter the doors of the hallowed shop, but only to purchase gifts or necessities for my size 6 daughter. As I wandered the shop floor I did used to wonder if onlookers were glancing at me and wondering "who's she trying to kid?". That was probably firmly in my head, but nevertheless a telling sign of my discomfort and insecurity about my size.  Anyway, so I am now a proud Primark customer, my daughter has a new shopping buddy.... and my husband lives in fear of the bank balance......

Along with the weight loss, I am continuing my exercise schedule. As much as my hectic lifestyle as "full-time worker and mother with a husband who does shifts" status allows me, I try to do a daily 30 minutes on the exercise bike, followed by fifteen minutes using the hand weights to "bust those bingo wings".
It is starting to occur to me that, with the amounts of weight I am losing, that, one day, I may have to contend with excess, saggy skin. That, on the whole, doesn't worry me too much, as my focus has been, and continues to be on my health and not how I look, but it is a slight disconcerting thought. Some individuals have already asked me if I would contemplate surgery if it came to that when I reached my target but, right now, that is not an option I am entertaining. I am a 45 year old woman, and a mother of two, not a nubile 20-something with no dependents and a body that will recover quickly from going under the knife. I am not sure that I would like to risk the complications of unnecessary surgery. So, I am telling myself right now, that, if this weight loss journey leaves me with a little excess skin, then I will just disguise it with creative dressing. After all, that is what Spanx were invented for! Maybe, the 'flappy bits' will remain as a stark reminder of how far I've come, and where I started, and these will motivate me to stay on the healthy track for life.
With regards to "staying on the track" I am also starting to wonder how I will maintain my weight loss once I have (hopefully) reached my goal. It is no secret that the weight loss is the less challenging part of the journey and that integrating 'normal' foods back into one's lifestyle brings with it a minefield of risks. So, I am making plans to increase my exercise efforts, and have taken the decision to take up running in the spring. Now when I say "in the spring" this is no cop-out. I have my reasons - the nights are too dark and wet right now, I'm still not fit enough and also too heavy that pounding the streets would take an unfavourable toll on my joints. But, the seed of the idea is starting to germinate in my head and I am finding increasingly attractive the prospect of attempting a "Couch to 5K" and maybe even participating in Fun Runs. My daughter is desperate to do the Race For Life and last year I was very secretly grateful that the date for the local event clashed with other plans. I will not have the same excuse next year, and I want to join in with my girl, not just cheer on from the sidelines. So, I am making this commitment - to myself and to all readers of this blog - that I shall be running next year. No backing out now.
So that's Part A of the Maintenance Plan. part B is an ongoing project - working on my head! Weight loss is, without doubt a combination of Mind/Body/Spirit - all three stars must align for you to be successful - you cannot tackle such a big change without signing all three aspects to the deal. Every day, I find myself challenging my own thinking, and, I do believe that the message is starting to seep through to my subconscious. Just the other day I was at Costa Coffee (please note that this blog is not sponsored by Costa, Primark or Spanx and other coffee houses, clothing retailers and control underwear brands are available..) and as I was queueing for my skinny decaff and my childrens' Belgian Chocolate Teeth-Rotting Sugar-Fest (as a treat, mind you) I was stood by the cakes cabinet... There were all kinds of delicacies there...flapjacks..brownies...muffins....chocolate-laden slabs of naughtiness.... Now, normally, I would find myself salivating at that point, and probably risking banishment by the staff for leaving unhygienic nose and tongue marks on the display glass..but this time...I didn't. I hardly felt a pang, not a flicker of a craving.
It was confounding, and my subconscious brain didn't quite know what to do with itself. But I felt great! The feeling of being in self control was almost overwhelming. Now I have to just remember that feeling, and anchor it in my head, just in case temptation strikes again.
Wish me luck....

A Normal Overweight Person....

This week, I “only” lost one pound!!!  Now, before I am hounded by torch and pitchfork bearing angry dieters desperate for any loss, I totally concede  that this is still a loss, and I fully accept that I should be grateful for any decrease on the scales, but I would be lying if I failed to admit a slight disappointment in the results.  Over the past few weeks, since embarking on Step 2, I have had some very acceptable losses, eight pounds  then three pounds, which have catapulted me into the six and half stone loss bracket.  I was also very fortunate to be rewarded with six colourful rosettes by my consultant for each stone lost so far (I know that I may protest at the madness of giving out stickers and fridge magnets, but, deep down, I am still a little girl wanting something bright and shiny for my efforts!).   Unfortunately, despite my efforts this week being 100% as ever, my body decided to cling on to the majority of the weight for another few days, Why? I really don’t know, I cannot blame cheating or hormones, I could probably attribute some to slight constipation (which was spectacularly resolved the following day – oh the cruel irony) but I have to simply accept it is just “one of those things” – a glitch in the unpredictable Matrix which is my weight loss journey.   This is the smallest loss I have had since I “took the red pill” just 20 weeks ago and ventured down the rabbit hole of dealing with the weight issues I had denied for so long. And that “little” loss stung my pride a bit, I can’t deny it.  (Uh-oh, is that marauding hordes  I can hear in the distance…???). It is that wounding of my pride that has made me realise that I am facing yet another test in my weight loss journey. My resolve is up for question. When the weight is falling off rapidly, it is very easy to be carried along the current of positivity and motivation. After all success breeds success.  When you meet an obstruction in the river, however, it is highly tempting to give up, and form a stagnant little pool by the bank. I wish that I could say, honestly and wholeheartedly that these thoughts did not cross my mind, however there is no denying that the dark part of me which still lurks within started to wonder why I should bother. “All that hard work and sacrifice for one measly pound?” “I may as well just cash my chips in and indulge myself a little this week, it’ll make no difference anyway”. Mad, mad, crazy thinking. But I thought it.   Thankfully, the “angel on my shoulder” still has some power and drop-kicked the devil into touch. But it was close.

Giving up on a positive path due to a setback or failure is such a common behaviour and I would imagine that most of us have been there. 
Sometimes the journey seems too hard, the reward seems too scant and we ask ourselves is it really worth the effort to keep going. 
The problem is, that if we stop, we don’t just remain where we are, we start to stagnate, we even start to regress backwards. 
When a river is dammed, whirlpools and eddies will form behind the obstruction, whirling little bodies of water going nowhere but in confusing circles. If the blockage is not overcome, eventually the water will settle, weed will grow over, flies and will populate the area and decomposition will settle in. 
Yet, the world is not full of stagnant pools, there are flowing streams and  babbling rivers making their way to the sea every day, providing fresh life-sustaining water. If you observe a dam, it is never truly still, a little trickle still works its way through. Sometimes the trickle gathers strength and speed and breaches the banks to continue along that path. Whether a trickle or a torrent, water has the power to push  its way through with incredible force or to persistently erode away over a long period of time. Either way, it makes its way through to where it belongs. 
I must aspire to be like that water – tenacious, persistent and resolute. Whether I am gushing along or seeping through, I must not stagnate. And so, I will refuse to let any setback stop me. If I continue along this way in the way I already have, eventually I will break through. Nothing will stop me.

This journey is fraught with challenges, although I try to see them as “opportunities to learn and grow”. The “devil on my shoulder” popped up again this week when my consultant told me that she is going away this week for a very well deserved holiday. This means that there won’t be any weigh ins for me for the next three weeks. 

That sneaky little demon was whispering in my ear almost immediately…. “ooh, three weeks! You know what that means – you can eat a bit naughtily for a little while. As long as you are good for the few days before your next weigh in…who would know…” 

hmmm….tempting…. 

The angel on my other shoulder, aghast at this suggestion did her darnedest to counter  “why would you do that? You are six pounds off a seven stone loss…nine pounds from having lost 100lbs…this is the ideal opportunity to work hard and blast through, you’ve got three whole weeks to work on it..” . 

But the Devil was on a roll…”look – you only lost a pound this week, you are GUARANTEED to have a bigger loss next week, as long as you don’t go overboard, that will carry you through till the next weigh in. Look, the cat’s away, time for the mice to play..You DESERVE this as reward for all your hard work recently…” 

At the words “as long as you don’t go overboard”, the poor angel raised her eyes heavenward, suppressed a celestial curse and sighed….being a far wiser soul, she knew all too well that the terms  ‘self control’, ‘moderation’ and ‘restraint’ have been all too scant in my vocabulary for much of my life.

And, yet, her patient little voice seems to be getting through to me – slowly but surely. For, right now I have decided that I will push through, I will work on and not let down myself, nor my consultant, by dropping the ball in her absence. 

Looking at it logically, the other decision would be yet more utter madness, yet the thought was there, ready to germinate in my susceptible head. I really wish that the Devil would bugger off for good and give me an easier life but I guess I must accept that he is currently there, perched on my shoulder, eager to exploit any perceived chink in my armour. I have carried him around for so long, and paid him so much attention he has probably secured Squatters’ Rights on my shoulder. He came in uninvited but I gave him so much credence that he has no motive to leave. All I can do is learn to ignore him. Just because he is talking I don’t have to listen, no matter how tempting his propositions are. Maybe one day I’ll get the hint.

In the meantime, I shall arm myself with positive reasons to keep going the way I am going. 

I am definitely starting to reap the benefits of this healthier lifestyle, and so are my family. 

My husband, who, although not doing Cambridge, is following me in eating more healthily, paid his 'Annual MOT' visit to the doctor last week. Last year he was told that his cholesterol and hypertension were high and that he was at risk of being “borderline Type 2 Diabetes”. This was a particular worry as his father, who died this September, had been Type 2 Diabetic for much of his life and it definitely adversely affected his health towards the end . On returning from the doctors’ surgery this time, my hubby had a discernible spring in his step. Not only had the diabetes risk gone, but both blood pressure and cholesterol had dropped and he had lost two stone. If this is not an endorsement of our new, better choices, I don’t know what is!

Our choices are also impacting on our children. Naturally, we don’t expect them to go on any form of diet but we are promoting better food choices and have banished junk food from the home, with the exception of special occasions. Following such an occasion (during which I stuck 100% to plan!) there were some sausage rolls left over in the fridge. In the eyes of a ten year old boy these would normally be a source of irresistible delight and ‘leftovers’ would last approximately ten minutes! 

Not on this occasion. 

As I pottered in the kitchen one day, my son proudly announced to me 

“I have decided to only eat one sausage roll today!” 

“Why’s that?” I enquired, anticipating a full and detailed description of mould or decay...

.. “well…” he replied “I had a look at the food label, and I’ve decided that there is an unhealthy level of fats and salts in the rolls…” 

Who’d have thought it – my junk food junkie of a son turning into an amateur nutrionalist? Maybe there is hope for us all….

Of course, another fringe benefit is knowing that I look better these days. I am fitting comfortably   into size 18/20 clothing (even jeans!) and had to sell off my old wide-calf boots the other day as they now swim around my legs like over-sized wellies. Thank heavens for E bay, where I can sell off too-big items to make money to purchase smaller ones.

Last week I attended a ‘karaoke evening’ with some very dear friends. These are traditionally very drunken affairs, peppered with snacks and calorie-laden foods, and the occasional bit of singing! 

This time, I came prepared with several bottles of sparkling water and spent the night dodging the snack bowls. But, I still thoroughly enjoyed my evening. 

As the night came to a close, my very dearest friend (who inspired me to start this journey and has supported me all the way), a little worse for wear, came up to me and slightly slurred 

“You have done so well – you now just look like a normal overweight person”. 

Now, coming from the wrong person, this could have been incredibly insulting, but I know that these words were spoken with much love by a person who has fought the same battle and won. 

And her words couldn’t be truer. When I looked back the next day at the inevitable pictures on Facebook the next day , it struck me that I no longer stand out in a group as “the really fat one”. 

Wow – just wow! 

I did look like a “normal overweight person”. And that is just a fab boost to my self esteem. The angel is grinning from ear  to holy ear…

Maybe next year I will achieve an even greater accolade and just be the “normal person”…..

…wish me luck…….

Stepping Down to Step Up....

It’s October! One of my favourite months. There’s something about the golden light, the woody and smoky smells, the mistiness in the air that really floats my boat.  I love to cosy up in snug jumpers and boots (maybe this year I’ll get ‘normal’ calf width boots on my legs) and go on on woodland walks, kicking through leaves  without suffering the Curse of the Fat Bird – sweat. For us overweight individuals, Summer, with all its pleasantries, brings with it the dreaded leakage from every pour, going beyond the “healthy glow” to the “did someone just throw a bucket of water over you?” look in around twenty paces. So, as the temperatures drop, I welcome the chance to don my (smaller sized) coat and take balmy walks amongst the berry-filled trees, picking up conkers with the kids. When I lived in Cyprus, I did miss the Autumn.  Cyprus has two seasons – Summer and slightly less hotter summer (with occasional rain) and snow on the mountains. (yes – Cyprus has a ski resort in the Troodos mountains. Many a time, we would spend a morning sledging and then, in the afternoon, drive back down to the coast and have a picnic on the beach  in our shorts and t shirts. Mental!) As it is October 1st today, it also brings with it the chance for new beginnings and new chances.  And I have seized this opportunity. As of today, with the grace of my consultant, I have “stepped down” from Cambridge Step 3 to Step 2.  This means reducing my daily calorie intake from 1,00 calories to 810 calories, mainly through cutting out all carbohydrates  (this can induce a state of Ketosis, where the body burns fat faster, although I’m not particularly bothered about that aspect), and replacing them with an additional Cambridge product. I’ve opted for the bars, which I have been told are not only tasty but VERY chewy so take a considerable time to consume.

This change of plan came about as my weight loss has slowed down a little in the past few weeks, the regular losses of between four and eight pounds weekly have dropped down to either two or three. I am aware that this is still a commendable loss, but I am hungering for more. I don’t know at this stage if this is a good or a bad thing, but we shall wait and see (or ‘weight’ and see…). What I do love about the Cambridge Weight Plan is that there are options, you can move up or down the steps according to your needs.

 So, it is with some trepidation that I enter October (or Oc-TWO-ber as I am calling it, after Step 2). 
But before I voice my fears, lets me focus on the positives that have led up to this point. 
At my weigh in yesterday, I had lost another two pounds. 
This brings my total weight loss to 5 stone 10 pounds  (80 pounds) since May 14^th. 
I have been reliably informed that this is the weight of the average Rottweiler!!! 
Now, for obvious reasons of personal safety, I probably wouldn’t consider walking around with a Rottweiler draped around my frame (especially not a hungry or grumpy one) but even visualising the equivalent is mind blowing! 
Furthermore, I have ‘graduated’ down to size 20 clothes, even jeans. At my biggest, just four and  a half months ago, I wore a 24 in most clothes and a 26 in jeans. This change definitely makes me happy, and my weekly measurements have reduced by 7 inches on the waist, 10 inches on the hips and 5 inches on the bust  (looks like I will remain top-heavy for now, my husband jests that, at this rate, I will resemble the letter ‘P’!).

Of course, with change comes fear and there are some things that worry me about this step down to Step 2. 
Firstly, I will be giving up my consumption of fruit (not recommended because of its high sugar level) and, for the same reason, tomatoes. I will also have to eschew salmon and a few ingredients in my meals that I enjoy. I am less bothered about carbs, as I have found myself voluntarily cutting them out in meals on occasion anyway. When you only have 40g of rice or pasta to play with, you find yourself thinking “why bother?”. Potatoes will be a little bit harder but I don’t have them as frequently anyway. And I do worry that I will start to feel a lot hungrier without my salad lunch.

Another issue that concerns me is the realisation that I still haven’t completely put an old demon to bed. That demon is fear of judgement and disapproval. 

Granted, I have overcome a few hurdles already – I have confessed to being on Cambridge, I have admitted my starting weight and size, I have written about my most shameful compulsions and eating habits. 

However, I have still held back at least a bit with my candour.  

When people ask me how I have been losing the weight, I have learnt to tell them, upfront, that I am on the Cambridge Weight Plan. However…there is always a disclaimer.. and I find myself qualifying the statement with a comment such as “oh, but it’s not the liquid only version, it’s real food, including salad every day for lunch..” It’s like (actually, no, it IS)  I am still just a wee bit ashamed and embarrassed about the method I have chosen to lose my weight, and  I need to belittle and downsize any aspects that might attract negative attention. After all, I didn’t approve of Cambridge not that long ago, so surely others have similar reservations. 

Why am I doing this? Because I still, sadly, crave a, level of approval and validation from everyone I meet, even relative strangers. 

I’m pretty sure this goes back to my childhood, a little girl wanting nothing but acceptance and unconditional love from an alcoholic (and likely narcissistic) father who simply did not have the capacity to provide what I needed. 

But that is ancient history, something I must now put behind me, and find the courage to work through. 

It was this need for approval that propelled me through previous abortive weight loss attempts. The focus become more on the acclaim and praise than on the benefits to my health and psyche. And, of course, when the compliments dried up, so did my motivation.

This time I am trying hard to focus on the things that matter  to me and to those that depend on me – my health and my longevity. It’s nice getting compliments , I cannot deny that, but it’s better to be able stick around on this planet longer for those that have always loved you and will love you every day.

So, I have started  to tackle the demon. I have told some around me, that I have changed my plan, and I have already received a mixed response. Some have approved, some, frankly, don’t really care and others…well, there’s always the detractors. Comments directed at me have already included "Don't make yourself ill... " "surely it's better to lose more slowly.. " "do you really need to lose much more? ". All well intentioned, I’m sure, but not what I need to hear right now.  I understand that there is a lot of worry and controversy over what people might deem “extreme diets” but this comes from people who do not understand the full facts and are not walking in my shoes.  I used to weigh 24 stone, I still weigh over 18 stone. I am morbidly obese.  My weight has been, and, to some extent, still is impinging  on my health.  I am at risk from a number of life-threatening conditions – cardiac disease, diabetes, stroke, various cancers. Risks which are lessened the further my weight reduces.  It’s not rocket science – I NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT.  Some might consider this an ‘extreme diet’ but I have been living under extreme circumstances. Desperate times call for desperate measures.  I am at pains to stress, as much to myself as to others, that I am not doing this particular diet for quick, short-term results.  I don’t want to fit into a special outfit for a special occasion, I don’t aspire to a particular clothes size, I have no individuals offering me any carrot on a stick (wouldn’t work any way, I’m not fond of carrots..) if I lose X number of pounds in X number of days. (although if you spelled it ‘Carat’ , I could be persuaded!!!) However, there is an undeniable Sword of Damocles dangling over my head. And I want to get away from it as soon as possible. Perhaps it would be more prudent to lose it more slowly, and I am aware that research has suggested that weight which comes off more slowly is likely to stay off for longer. But, that is a bridge I will cross when I come to it.  To go back to the Rottweiler analogy, currently I am simply running away, as fast as I possibly can, from a dangerous dog, intent on tearing at my heels. Once I have put enough distance between me and the immediate  threat, maybe then I can reduce my pace and conserve my energy. In the meantime, I will just keep running.  The bridge is in sight, in the far distance, but I still have a way to run before I reach it. However, I must rem ember that the dog is relentless and will not give up because I have slowed down. I will always have to stay a few paces ahead of him. As for the concerns that I am risking my health, surely that cannot be further from the truth. What I am due is REGAINING my health. The bottom line, however, is I must continue to learn the lesson that I must derive my self esteem entirely from my own inner resources and not listen to the voices of others who may or not approve of my choices , for they have their own agenda.  Instead I must listen hard for that still, small voice deep within my core that tells me I’m on the right path, the little life-coach in my soul that says “you’ve got this”.

I’m listening…Wish me luck…..

Summer's over....

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written a blog entry, around six weeks, and there are valid reasons for it. Firstly, the summer holidays happened, and as every mother knows, this is the period of the year that can struck horror into any parent who treasures their sanity. Furthermore, it was the worst kind of summer – a wet one! At the best of times, routines are disrupted, boredom thresholds are low and nerves can be strained. But when the option of “go outside and play” is removed, then cabin fever sets in. Tempers fray and the fridge and food cupboards start to beckon with false promises of momentary sanctuary from the chaos. I am glad to report, however, that I was able to resist and, instead, took out my frustration on the exercise bike, so my fitness levels actually increased! The kids are now back at school, I’m back at work and peace is restored. However, opportunities to get back on the saddle are less convenient so I have to make more effort. Well, sometimes…

The other reason for the lack of blogging is, unfortunately, a much more somber one. Following the loss of my mother in law in April, sadly my father in law also passed away in early September. It has been very hard on our family, particularly my husband who has now lost both his parents in less than six months. He has no siblings and few living relations so the mantle of responsibility has laid very heavily on his shoulders for some time. After his mother died, our plan had been to move his father down from the family home in Scotland to sheltered accommodation near to us in Kent. Unfortunately the loss of his wife became unbearable and his health deteriorated, resulting in his submission to hospital where he eventually slipped away. As a family, we are grateful that we have a strong unit, the children have shown incredibly empathy and maturity and we are confident that we will pull together and help one another through this. One small mercy is that my in-law’s home actually sold just a few days before my father in law passed away and my husband, in one of many frantic trips to Scotland throughout July and August, had already succeeded in getting all his father’s effects cleared away.  So that is something to be grateful for.

It is extremely important to me, and to my family, to find gratitude in even the most adverse of situations and this “attitude of gratitude” has helped us weather many a storm in our lives. We try, every day, even when it has been a particularly dark one, to end the night but thinking of a “champagne moment” that punctuates our day. Sometimes it’s a struggle, but there is always a moment that made you smile, laugh or just breathe a sigh of relief in every 24 hours. Sometimes you just need to dig deep to find it. It saddens me deeply when people write off days, weeks, months, even years as "bad" because they are focusing on the negative things that have happened. This attitude eventually becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy – if you expect to see blackness, blackness will find you.

Try this experiment. Think of a colour. Then look around you, wherever you are, and pick out and note at least ten items of that colour. Then close your eyes. When you open your eyes again, the colour you had thought of will jump out at you wherever you look for the next few minutes. This is because you have conditioned your brain, albeit temporarily, to see that colour. In the same way, therefore, you can train your mind to seek the positive outlook. It can take a little work but it’s worth it. All worthy endeavours require effort.

A definite positive that I have been able to pull out of the grief we have experienced is that neither my husband nor I have succumbed to the temptation to bury our woes and our stresses using our former comfort – food. Unhealthy ‘treats’, snacks and takeaways were always our ‘go to’ solution when life dealt us a poor hand of cards. Of course this was madness, as food solves nothing. I think what has kept us on our current path is that fact that when, back, in April, my husband’s mother passed away, both he and I were struck with the realisation of the impact our own mortality would have on our own children. When we reviewed our lifestyles it hit us both hard that we were not living lives conducive to health and longevity. Granted, one day we would both die, but, at the rate we were going, we were at risk of speeding that process along and orphaning our children too soon. That frightened us, and made us both decide it was time to make radical changes to our lives. Neither of us has looked back since, and neither of us intends to revert back to the “bad place" either.

Just before my own father died, I had lost a considerable amount of weight, probably about 3 or 4 stone. Shortly after he passed away, I gave up my weight loss efforts and piled the weight back on, adding a further few stones to my frame. Looking back it could be argued that this was understandable, that I turned to food for comfort, and that I simply did not have the physical, mental or emotional resources to continue on a diet whilst deep in bereavement. This could be true. But, if I look a little deeper and examine my motives with eyes that are now wiser and nearly 17 years older, I have to attest that I now believe that I used my father’s death as an excuse to resume my bad habits and to return to the behaviours that I found easier and more instantly gratifying. It’s a hard fact to face up to, and doesn’t negate in any way the impact of losing a parent, but I genuinely now feel that my food issues had nothing to do with my father dying. I could blame nobody but myself, but then, younger and less experienced, I fell into the trap of allowing myself to give in, instead of mustering up the fight within me, a fight which always existed. A fight which we all possess should we seek the courage to face our demons.

I’m going to move away from sadness and talk more about cheerful and positive matters. Since my last blog I have passed a few milestones. My weight loss now clocks in at 75 pounds, that’s 5stone 5lbs since May 14^th. A great achievement if I say so myself, and one I’m very proud of . My 10 year old son stood on the bathroom scales (more about those later) just the other day, and he weight 5st 5lbs, exactly the amount I have lost!! When my husband witnessed this, he asked me if I fancied carrying my boy around all day, every day. 

“Of course not” I said. “

Well,” he replied, “that's exactly what you were doing before you started this plan”. 

Now if that isn’t incredibly motivating, then I don’t know what is…

Other “little victories” I have experienced include being able to wear my wedding and engagement rings (an ambition I recounted in a previous blog) and getting back into size 20 clothing. I also celebrated, on September 10^th, my 100^th consecutive day being 100% on plan. Back in May, when I first made the decision to change, I was incredibly sceptical that I would last a day staying on plan, yet here I am, on Day 112, still going strong!

Another victory is that I have a new office chair! Doesn't sound like much, but a few years ago, after a car accident which caused whiplash, I had to be given a "special chair". When I filled out the H&S forms, it turned out I needed an "extra special chair" because I weighed over 20 stone. Even though the form was confidential I still felt pretty humiliated.
Anyway, the shiny new chair has arrived (just a "normal", nothing special this time) and I can't get over how firm and high it is. Comparing it with the last chair, I can actually see and feel where my former excess weight had impacted on the chair frame, forcing it down. And now I'm "normal"... Good times!!!

Recently I returned to my choir after our summer break. I hadn’t been for over a month and, on my return, was greeted by my fellow choristers with cries of surprise and delight at my weight loss. Not that long ago, the compliments and attention would have made me very uncomfortable, not because I didn’t enjoy the attention, but because I feared failure and judgement when I “inevitably” failed. Positive attention now would mean negative attention later when I fell spectacularly off the wagon.

 As I've progressed on this journey (as readers of my blog will know), I've learnt that what I believed to be the opinions of others was mainly in my own head, a last ditch effort by my messed-up subconscious to self-sabotage.
This time, I decided "sod it - I'm going to enjoy this moment". After all, I was surrounded by people who had liked and accepted me at my fattest. So, I took time to actually listen and understand what they said when they complimented me. I concluded that their words were of happiness for me. They could see that I was glad to have lost weight and they delighted not in my changing shape but my changing attitude.

I realised that there are people who love and accept me, however I look, and my happiness is their happiness. I will choose to Surround myself by them and feed off their positivity and encouragement. 

Look for the right colours and you will see the right colours…

Talking of surrounding myself with positive people, I am thrilled that the Facebook group I started a couple of months back has burgeoned to over 500 members. I had no idea that it would blossom this far when I first started it. It was my intention to gather together a small group of folk with whom I could empathise in the long-haul journey to changing my life and attitudes, and with whom I could share, offer and gain support. This has now increased five hundred-fold. Every day, when I log in, I am greeted by reams of positive and warm messages from determined, strong individuals. The strength I glean from this is almost overwhelming and it is incredibly heartening to know that I am not on this journey alone.

To finish off, I will end with a cautionary tale…. Earlier on this entry I mentioned that I own a set of bathroom scales. These are a reasonably recent purchase, bought on a whim and justified to myself as “for my husband”. Now, family members in our household will know that “for my husband” or “for the kids” is actually code for “stuff that I am buying for myself that I feel guilty about”. This usually constitutes food, consumables which were never intended to be consumed by anyone but me! Now to be fair, my dear spouse had expressed an interest in buying a set of scales eventually as he, too, has been trying to lose weight (and, in fact, it transpires, has shed two stone since May). However, there was no urgency in his quest. With me, however, I was becoming increasingly less content with waiting till my appointment with my consultant to discover the results of that week’s efforts. And when, one fateful day, I stumbled across a bathroom scales “on sale” (another code, meaning  the potential purchaser has carte blanche, and is in fact obligated, to buy , despite their being no need for said item), I could no longer resist. ...Shortly after I discovered the terrible truth – bathroom scales are evil, conniving, lying, scheming bastards that cannot be trusted. They are clearly the work of the devil, designed to lure us with false hope, only to smash our dreams moments later in the blink of a digital monitor.  Actually, in honesty, it is not the scales’ fault at all. In the hands of a measured, responsible individual they are a useful tool with which to gauge our progress. But to an obsessive, compulsive, addictive person like me it is a weapon of self-torment. In the weeks that I have owned this Implement of Mockery I have probably weighed myself at every conceivable time of day, in every thinkable state of dress, and assuming every imaginable position possible. Yet, not one single day have I noted a consistent figure on that dial. The problem with this is that the scales have an undeniable influence on my mood. If they register a good loss then I am elated. If they show a gain (as they are wont to do immediately after dinner) then my emotions take a distinct downturn. My obsessiveness also increases and I hop on and off repeatedly, trying to witness a miraculous change. What frighten me the most is that my thoughts then turn to trying to think of ways to make the pounds move in my favour. I start ruminating in my head about reducing my calorie intake further, cutting down on water consumption, pushing myself harder in exercise and even considering “miracle” pills and potions that claim to accelerate weight loss. This is not a healthy attitude and a stark reminder that the “devil on my shoulder” is never too far away. If I allow my weight to occupy my thoughts as compulsively and obsessively as it does every time I visit the bathroom and cannot resist a “cheeky weigh in” just because the scales I there, I am dangerously meandering towards the path of self-defeat. So I am going to put an end to this behaviour. I will stick to my weekly weigh-ins, trusting that if I stick to plan then the weight will come off. I will ask my husband to hide those nasty, wicked harbingers of lies….. And maybe I will stick safely on the path to physical and emotional wellbeing…

Wish me luck….. 

More truth..and courage....

This is not actually the blog that I had planned to write this week. All will become clear in due course, but, in the meantime, permit me to meander in my usual way. When I lived in Cyprus, one of my local friends, a very wise lady told me that the Cypriots have a saying: “When you make plans – God laughs” Now I have a feeling that there might be something lost in translation, because I don’t think that the planning refers to making preparations or taking precautions for a certain outcome. And in previous blogs, I have exhorted that “preparation is key”. I still hold to that. No, in this context I think that the saying is referring to behaving in a certain way with the expectation that a specific outcome will definitely happen. In anticipating, even feeling entitled to, a definite result according to your own desires or perceived needs. I have seen this paraphrased as “God will wreck your plans when he sees that they are about to wreck you”. Now this is not going to become a theological or spiritual discussion, feel free to substitute ‘God’ with ‘The Universe’, ‘Fate’, the Higher Power of your choice, or even the subconscious within you. My point is that it’s fine to plan, but never expect or take for granted that what you believe will happen will actually happen. You are setting yourself up for a fall. I took one of those very tumbles just yesterday at my weigh in. So far, my weight loss has been speeding along very nicely, thank you, with regular weekly losses of 6,7or 8 pounds which has been very gratifying. I did however, express to my consultant my concern that, possibly I was losing weight too fast. Be careful what you wish for… In the previous weigh-in, twelve days earlier, I had lost a cumulative amount of 3stone and 6lbs. That was fabulous. Now I was just eight pounds short of a four stone loss, and my first interim target. So I set my sights on achieving it at the next weigh in. I stayed thoroughly on plan, I worked even harder on the exercise bike and, all the time, I was doing the mental arithmetic. I would repeatedly, and obsessively work out my average daily weight loss since starting the plan, which had amounted to around an amazing  0.9lb a day so far (yes- I was truly this anal!), multiplied it by the 12 days between weigh ins and worked out that I should have lost 10lb at the next anticipated weigh in. Even give or take a couple of pounds, I would still achieve that illustrious and coveted goal. My eye was on the prize. So, as yesterday’s weigh in approach, my excitement was growing, I wanted this target. I needed this target. I was going to lose at least EIGHT pounds. Definitely. I had PLANNED for this. In fact, I was already mentally MAKING PLANS as to how I would celebrate this achievement. So, yesterday, in the sanctity of my consultant’s room, as I stepped on the scales, breath held and looking across at the lady like a small child anticipating an ice cream…I waited excitedly…and was then given the verdict. “You have lost FIVE pounds”. At that point, I couldn’t just hear God sniggering, He was guffawing, holding his belly and rolling about as celestial tears ran down his holy cheeks…. Of course, being the proud individual I am, I smiled sweetly and behaved graciously, expressing a “slight disappointment" in the result, but for the remainder of our meeting I was screaming inside. This was so unfair! I had done everything right! I deserved this!!!! On returning to my car, I let forth such a tirade of expletives that the Almighty’s laughter would rapidly have turned to blushes and then anger. It was only after I had cooled down a little that I began to see the error of my ways. I started to understand that I had become blinded by my obsession, I had so focused on my sense of self entitlement and become so convinced that I would achieve what I expected that I failed to see the positive in my actions. After all, five pounds is a bloody good weight loss, even over twelve days. But, back there, in the weighing room, I had failed to adhere to my plans.  Ergo – I had failed. And the fear of failure is my Achilles Heel. So I think it’s time to address what I truly believe that Failure is. I think I need to rethink and redefine the word in my head. I know that in past blogs I have talked about having lost weight and then regained it (and then some), and therefore called it a Failure. The Oxford English Dictionary defines Failure thus: 1.       Lack of success 2.       The neglect or omission of expected or required action. It also cites the term “An unsuccessful person or thing:” Care to hazard a guess which definition I related most strongly to??? Yep, when I make a mistake or fail to come up to my expectations I AM A FAILURE. Pretty derogatory, huh? I would never, ever consider using this term to describe my precious children, no matter how many mistakes they make, so why on earth do I deem myself low enough to bear this title? The problem was that I focussed utterly on the outcome I had planned and not on the process of reaching for it. So, I ignored the fact that I did actually succeed in losing weight, on several occasions.  I denied myself any credit because the final outcome was not permanent. This is as fatalistic as aspiring to live to the age of 90, and then declaring your life worthless when you find yourself on your deathbed at 88. It is as cruel as turning to a child who has fallen over and telling them that they may as well stay on the floor, because if they get up again they will risk another tumble. Life is simply not like this, so why am I expecting it to be so? This is what has held me back in trying to lose weight for so long. The fear of failure – again. But, really, has this failure actually killed me? Has it irreparably damaged me? Categorically not. In fact, if I look back, there are many things that I have learnt from my failings. That some things don’t work, and some only work temporarily. The challenge now is to take stock of what went wrong last time, and apply the new experience to build on a better way of tackling my problems once and for all. But it’s scary. It means facing demons and uncovering ugly truths. It means looking at yourself in the mirror and actually seeing what is there, not what you wish to see or prevent yourself from seeing. I discussed the other day with a friend my blinkered view of myself, naming it “reverse anorexia”. By this I mean that, in the same way that a seriously ill anorexic individual looks at themselves and see a grossly overweight person, I can take a glance at myself and think that I don’t look so bad. I can believe that I’m not really that overweight. It’s only on seeing pictures of myself that the undeniable truth hits me hard. Right now, I am not just a bit overweight, nor even fat, I am OBESE. Even having lost the weight so far, I am still burdening my body with an excessive amount of fat that is highly detrimental to my health and threatens my longevity. It is a cold, hard, unpalatable yet unavoidable truth. And I must accept this if I am to succeed in my goal of becoming a healthy individual. I do wonder if this inability to accept my true size contributed to my failure in other attempts to lose weight. Long before I should have, I became complacent, the “reverse anorexia” got its hold back on me. Once I had dropped a few stones, I could tell myself I “looked good”, not just “better”. Because I was viewing myself from a platform of self-delusion, I was able to convince myself that I was more successful than I actually was, and so I began to lose my focus,  and release my grip on the  issues that I was holding barely at arms’ length. This tenuous veneer dropped and I fell, very hard, from the pedestal. It is horrible to have to accept yourself as you really are when any aspect is wrong, but it is an absolute and utter necessity if you truly want to change. This is where I am now. Sometimes the extent of my anticipated journey can overwhelm me, but I know I must trudge on.   This is not a small honing of my inadequacies, it is not a ‘patch up job’. I have to break myself down back to my lowest common denominator, shed all my preconceptions and self-deceptions. I have to see myself “warts and all” to really understand what I need to do to change. But whilst I am doing this, I must treat myself with love and respect. And, sometimes, that can be the hardest thing to do. Up until now, I have kept my starting weight as a closely guarded secret, not even telling my husband the dreaded number. Why did I do that? Shame. Total and complete self-horror which, I believed, would also be expressed by those to whom I dared to impart the “secret”. I dreaded and feared the look I expected to see on the faces of others when they learned the extent to which I had allowed myself to balloon. I was not prepared to subject myself to this level of perceived disgust. The problem was, it made me guilty and unhappy keeping anything from my husband. Therefore I was double-bound, by the fetters and chains of both Guilt and Shame. I had left myself nowhere to go. Something had to give. And last night it did. Discussing my weight loss with my spouse, he asked me if I had much more to lose. I sighed and gave the generic response “oh yes- you have no idea how much”. Instead of placating me with the refutes and positive strokes that I craved, my painfully honest husband just nodded and grunted. And that is what spurred me on to push things further. My plan (already God was giggling…) was to ask him to guess how much he thought I had started off weighing, and then, when he had underestimated the figure (as I anticipated he would), I would brush it off with a casual “ a bit more than that, I’m afraid”. The matter would then be closed and Pandora’s Box would remain un-tampered with for another day. Unfortunately, this was not how it transpired, and, by now, God was nearly about to pee himself.. My dear, beloved husband guessed almost exactly my starting weight. I was flabbergasted, and managed only to mutter a shameful “er – yes, that’s right”.  Immediately I was stripped of all dignity. My Emperor’s New Clothes had been exposed and I was stood naked, waiting for the stones to be thrown and the whips to be lashed against my helpless bulk. But the derision never came. To my husband it was just a fact, a number. A dangerous number, albeit, but no reflection on his love and respect for me. It never was, never had been. If there was anything to be ashamed of, it could only be my willingness to project my self-disgust onto him. After the shock had subsided I was filled with an incredible and overwhelming relief. I felt free – released. For the first time in a very long while I was blinking in the sunlight of liberty. So why is shame such an issue for me? I have thought this through and can only allude to my family history, which I have mentioned in earlier blogs. I was raised in a dysfunctional, narcissistic home, ruled over by my volatile alcoholic father. I was fortunate enough that the volatility was never physical, but the psychological and emotional abuse played a terrible toll on my self-esteem, which has taken a lifetime of therapy and self-contemplation to rebuild. Despite all that went on in the family home, it was tantamount to keep the “secret” of my father’s condition and subsequent behaviour. The shame was so great that it was never to be mentioned to anyone else. I was berated severely on more than one occasion when I happened to comment on my father’s drinking outside of the family (in fact punishment was more severe if I tried to discuss it within the family), so I soon learned that silence, lies and deception were the easiest routes to survival. And I got good at it – too good at it. Several years ago, I was seeing a psychotherapist who, when I revealed my then weight to her, was astonished. She then confessed to being taken in by my rhetoric about my behaviour to the extent that she disbelieved what her own eyes were telling her (she was not a very good therapist!). Ironically, however, in respect of my father’s drinking, after the alcohol got the better of him and he passed away, at the too young age of 56 in 1998, when I felt safe to speak openly about his alcoholism, nobody who knew him was in the least bit surprised. They all knew. Despite the best efforts of our family, his actions and behaviours spoke for themselves. It was the ultimate “elephant in the room” – visible to all except those who were inconvenienced by it. And so, I now understand my weight is probably as visible and quantifiable as my father’s drinking. After all, I wear it daily, plain for others to see. It is only me that has made the subject unspeakable. I bet if I walked out into the street right now, and asked a random person to be utterly frank and guess my weight they wouldn’t be far out. So, in this spirit of embracing courage, I am going to do something that thoroughly and totally terrifies me. I am going to publish my starting weight. I can feel my fingers trembling over the keys as I type…here goes…. On May 14th 2015, when I was weighed, prior to starting my plan, I clocked in on the scales at 24 Stones exactly. There, I’ve said it. It’s out there. It can harm me no more being expressed than it did when the shame and guilt gnawed away at me internally. It’s a terrible, horrible, frightening number. Some may be shocked, others think nothing of it. It horrified and disgusted me. But the positive thing about it is that I have now distanced myself from it by 53 pounds. And I have no intention of ever, ever even approaching it again. In fact, I never want to see a figure in the twenties ever again. After all this deepness, I will end on a more positive, lighter note. At yesterday’s weigh in, my consultant, clearly sensing my disappointment despite my best efforts to conceal them, suggested that I might want to consider going “up a step” on the Cambridge plan. This would involve dropping my salad lunch in place of an additional soup or shake, and removing all carbs from my diet so that I go into a state of Ketosis and the weight loss accelerates.  I said I would consider it, and, at the time, it seemed to me to be a very attractive proposition. However I have now slept on it and seen the error of my disappointment and I have decided, at least for now, to continue on the path I am currently on. I understand that the next step is the best choice for many but I believe it is not for me. My reasons may surprise you……. I do not want to give up having my salad at lunchtime. Now, close friends, my consultant and regular readers of this blog may well now having to be wiping coffee off their screen having read the last statement. I have made no secret of the fact that for all of my life, I have been veggie-phobic. In this very blog I described salad as “the Devil’s own bogeys”. So why would I not jump at the chance to eliminate salad from my diet again? I certainly have not developed a love affair with all things green, and do not salivate over the produce section in Asda, but I have learned that, although I do not love salad, salad loves me. It is doing me good, it is making me healthier. Above all else, I now feel an innate righteousness that I am fuelling my body with stuff that is doing me good, instead of gorging on cheap and dirty fast food which has little or no nutritional value. For as many years as I can remember, I have been overshadowed by the regret that I did not eat vegetables. Unfortunately, until recently I did not find a force strong enough to drive me to take action against it. I cannot tell you how proud it makes me feel, when I take a bite of the leafy greens, to know, on a very deep level that I am DOING THE RIGHT THING. Together with my increased water consumption, elimination of fizzy drinks and caffeine and recommenced daily exercise, I feel a wonderful satisfaction that I am finally making the right choices. Choices that even managed to bypass other times I was “on a diet”. To be honest, I actually derive more joy from the knowledge that I am doing this than the thrill I receive when the scales register a loss. It is the act of proactively taking control and making changes that give me the biggest buzz. I don’t want to lose that buzz. So I’m sticking with the salad. I have noticed my vocabulary change, too, when my weight loss and my journey are discussed. On previous efforts, I used to talk about “being slimmer”, “looking good”, “and “fitting into nice clothes”. I have noticed that my language now is peppered with aspiration to being “healthy”, “fit” and “well”. This tells me that not only is my body getting healthier, my mind is too! Long may it continue! Well I’d better round things off for now. Thank you for persevering through another long blog entry. Wish me luck!!