A First Success

Well, it’s always good to start on a positive note, and what can be more positive than to announce that I am now officially one stone lighter than I was four weeks ago. Yes – one Big One, fourteen pounds, six kilos.. I am a very happy lady. The news was broken to me at my weigh-in on Tuesday. As I stood on the scales the consultant told me that, since officially commencing the plan last week, I had dropped six pounds. I was elated. Then she measured me, and we learnt that one inch had fallen off both my hips and waist.  I was delighted.  As she completed my weight record card she suddenly announced that she had made a mistake. My heart sunk, suddenly the trepidation overwhelmed me. What was the problem? Where had I gone wrong? Was my bubble about to be cruelly burst? “Actually, I’ve miscalculated your weight loss. When I told you last week that you had lost four pounds prior to starting on your plan, I got it wrong. You had actually lost eight pounds” Cue party poppers, tickertape, confetti and streamers…. “Really???” I was beyond elated, delighted or even thrilled. I was ecstatic. What a fantastic surprise to learn that my efforts had already paid off so well, And what better motivation? So let’s backtrack to the days leading up to my result… The weekend was always going to be a bit of a spectre looming up for me. I find weight loss to be easier when I am at work. The routine and the consistency help with the willpower, but most of all, the separation from a big kitchen stuffed full of treats and temptations is a big plus. Weekends are for kicking back and relaxing, and our typical family weekends involve large cooked breakfasts, takeaways and occasionally alcohol. Frequently, of a Sunday afternoon I would get the urge to bake and produce a large batch of banana muffins, laced heavily with chocolate chips. As I merrily mixed the delicious, sweet batter, I would tell myself how much my colleagues would appreciate my gift of cakes the next day. As I poured the mixture into the cake tins, I would content myself with how happy the children would be enjoying my baking in their lunchboxes. As I licked the bowl clean of a generous amount of the sticky batter, I would feel smug at how much my husband appreciated the occasional cake. As I removed the warm cakes from the oven I would mentally apportion myself the best and biggest ones. And, over the next few days I would consume these and a considerable number more. Much more than my children and family, and even a few from the batch I had taken to work. So as Saturday and Sunday loomed I started to wonder how I would cope. First and foremost I warned my family that there would be no takeaways and no baking. They were surprisingly accommodating. Then I simply resolved to take it one hour at a time. I can’t even really say how I did it, but, come Saturday evening I realised that I had succeeded at sticking to the plan. I was spurred on by encouraging text messages from both my consultant and a very good friend, and I also discovered a myriad of CWP support groups on Facebook. These really helped, reading the success stories and seeing clever recipe suggestions. I also continued with my campaign of increased water consumption. I have discovered that sparkling water is very good at staving off hunger. Plus, the frequent trips back and forth to the toilet not only kept my mind off the food, but also increased my exercise levels. On Sunday I had planned to check out the local boot fair. These trips usually involve a visit to the burger van as the kids inevitably reach boredom point early on and are most easily assuaged with junk food. And of course, if they’re having something….. Same goes for ice cream and the goods on offer at the local fudge stall….. So on this occasion I decided to come prepared. I brought my salad and soup packet with me. An as the kids chomped on cheeseburgers I munched my greens. My relationship with salad is warming up a little, I’m not sure if my taste buds are changing but I seem to dread opening the lunchbox filed with rabbit food less these days.  I am learning that preparation is key. So many times in the past I have fallen down because I have not organised something wholesome and healthy to eat for lunch and dinner – especially dinner. Coming home after a long day at the office, the last thing I want to do is think about what to have for dinner, let alone prepare it (and as I store most of the food in the freezer, there is also defrosting to consider). So, far too often, the mantra has been “shall we just get a takeaway?” Any day now, I am expecting a Sympathy Card to pop through the door, sent by our local kebab house. Our uncustomary inactivity in the last few weeks can only have led them to conclude that we are dead. So –preparation. Now I make sure that I have an idea what is for dinner each day and that the food is stocked accordingly. I also take a salad, a soup, or at the very least, a small measure of fruit with me (blueberries and raspberries are always a winner) so that I am not caught short if other plans go awry. I did this on Monday when my mother and I took a trip to London. As well as the obligatory handbag contents (half of the contents of my bathroom, a million used receipts and my woefully empty purse) I packed two little snack pots with my favourite berries. We were due on the 3pm train, so I spaced out my lunchtime salad and soup to ensure hunger pangs were averted as far as possible. The reason for the trip was that we had standby tickets as audience to the filming of an episode of QI. My mother and I yomped across London from Kings Cross to Waterloo and arrived at the studios to dishearteningly discover that a considerable queue was already snaking around the building. Being thoroughly British we joined the back end anyway and waited our turn. Frustratingly, when we were just ten places from the front of the line we were turned away as the studio was full. So it was time to revert to Plan B. Except, in all my preparation with regards to my nutritional requirements, I had utterly neglected my recreational needs  and there was no Plan B. My Mum and I ummed and erred for a few minutes and then reached a general consensus that we both fancied a mooch around Covent Garden. I love Covent Garden, it is so vibrant and exciting and there is so much to see and do…and eat…... Anyhow, reaching our destination required another trek across London so mother and daughter duly made our way to the West End. As expected, Covent Garden was alive with fascinating stalls and even more fascinating street entertainers. Every other shop also seemed to stock a veritable cornucopia of confectionery and ice cream. My very own heaven had become my very own hell. Dear reader, I am proud to say that I resisted, and when our rumbling bellies became too hard to resist we popped into our local Bella Pasta where I ordered and consumed (and dare I say it?) enjoyed a chargrilled chicken salad, heavy on the salad. This is quite an achievement for me as I have an over-fondness for cream, cheese and bacon loaded pasta dishes, my favourite being carbonara. As I munched away at the leaves I realised that I had to ‘fess up to my incredulous mother what I was doing. Thankfully, not only was she relieved that I had not taken leave of my senses, she was actually very supportive. So yet another of my fears has proved unfounded. I am starting to understand the fears and obstacles I had previously perceived mainly reside solely in my own addled head, and it is up to me to challenge and overcome them whenever I can. Another fantastic resource of support I have is my husband who has decided to accompany me on my weight loss journey. He, like me although not to the same extent, has suffered the toll of our all-too-frequent takeaways and ill-advised snacking habits. He is not joining me in using the CWP products but he does join me in the healthier choices made for the main meal of the day, and is exercising portion control and dodging the crisps and bacon sandwiches. It means a great deal to have him join me on this quest to become healthier. He told me that he is doing this for two reasons, primarily for his own health benefits, but also because he is acutely aware that the best way to encourage me and keep me on track is to follow me in my plans. I am very grateful to have such support close at hand. There is nothing more demotivating when you are nibbling at a lettuce leaf than to have to share the dinner table with someone guzzling a KFC. Together we aim to live long and healthy lives and see our children and future grandchildren grow up, and our previous lifestyle made the probability far less likely. Now we might have a fighting chance. Our next goal is to increase our activity and exercise more. We do have an exercise bike in the conservatory but it typically adopts the common secondary usage of clothes airer. We aim to address that. I do struggle with trying to get regular exercise and would love to attend classes however the difficulty I encounter with that is that my husband works shifts. On the days he works late I have to look after the kids so can’t get out to classes. On his off days I work late to accommodate my flexi-time so by the time I get home and have dinner, it’s getting too late to go out. This is why we got the exercise bike, which was great – in theory. Of course the other thing, carrying excess weight makes exercise all the harder so I opted for the much less challenging activity of sofa-surfer. I am also planning to use my lunch breaks at work to go for a brisk walk. As I now bring in my salad and soup lunch I don't need the break to go out and buy food. I can eat at my desk and then use the reamining half hour to get some exercise. I must remember to bring in my trainers tomorrow. Things are defintitely changing . I had taken Monday off work for our later London trip and in the morning , my husband, who was off-shift, and I had a few hours to ourselves. Typically these hours would be eaten up by going back to bed, lounging around on Facebook or going out to grab a bacon buttie or four. This morning, as I drove back from the school run, on a bright and sunny day, I passed by the local woodlands where the family occasionally go for a stroll. When I arrived home I shook my husband from his blissful slumber and suggested loudly “let’s go for a walk in the woods”. Now, waking my husband can be a highly dangerous manoeuvre, let alone doing so with the suggestion of exercise so I stepped back, waiting for the hibernating bear to growl and lash out. To my surprise, his reaction was unprecedented. He stirred, blinked a few times, stretched groaned, rubbed his eyes and then said “Alright then!” A little while later, allowing for cups of tea and getting dressed, we were donning our trainers for our first walk together. I am pleased to report that I survived 3km trek up and downhill and we completed it in forty minutes. Normally the same circuit is completed, with children in tow, in at least an hour but little did I know what a hard Taskmaster lurked inside my husband’s unassuming form. Breaks were only permitted at the crest of hills and only to briefly sip our water. He strode on purposefully as I staggered behind him, puffing and sweating and trying to keep up. But I did it, and as I triumphantly collapsed by the car at the end of our trek I felt a strong surge of satisfaction (as well as trembling knees). I am happy to report that I am still doing well with the water consumption and not one drop of fizzy drink (unless you count sparkling water) has passed my lips in the lat fortnight. I am still getting the hang of Green Teas but over the past few days I have taken to starting and ending my days with a glass of hot water and the juice of half a lemon. I actually find it quite refreshing. The toilet and I are still very much more acquainted than usual but I accept that as a good sign that my internal organs are functioning well.  I am also finding a more positive side effect to consuming at least three litres of water per day. As soon as the air starts to get warmer, I have been prone to suffering from terrible water retention, particularly in my feet and ankle. On a hot day, the joints at the bottom of my leg feel like they have been insulated with pipe lagging, my ankles are actually stiff and hard to bend, so engorged are they with retained fluid. It’s one of the reasons I never wear skirts or cropped trousers, I take ‘cankles’ to the next level and I’m not fond of advertising the fact to all and sundry. Since I’ve upped my water intake I don’t seem to suffer much at all from this. Yes I still have cankles but these are ‘food cankles’ not ‘water cankles’. I’m not going to be slipping out of the maxi dresses and trousers quite yet but at least I no longer feel like my legs are pumped up like balloons anymore and the flexibility is much better. Well, that’s about it for this blog entry. On the whole I’m feeling pretty positive , although I still battle daily with the demon on my shoulder who keeps asking me when I’m going to fall down and fail. I now have fourteen reasons to batter him and will do that every time he rears his mischievous little head. I am realising that if I live in the present the future will take care of itself. As for the past, that’s history –literally. So, like Dory. I will continue to “Just Keep Swimming”…

Wish me luck….