Since my last post, I’ve spent most of the time at mum’s. I always put on weight when I’m here, it’s kind of the law, but it’s not because the food is unhealthy, it’s just that she’s such a good cook that I end up eating twice as much as I usually would. And, of course, there are the twin temptations of a self-replenishing wine cupboard in the kitchen, and the unhelpful location of the John Brodie at the top of the road. Visits to the latter, however, may be curtailed (for Dad at least), now that the cheapo Sauvignon Blanc has been replaced by a detestable Chardonnay, and John Smith’s has gone up to £2.39 a pint.
I’d previously enjoyed a very well behaved week on the tried-and-tested “Fruit & Yoghurt” diet, had detoxed to a satisfactory level, and did not have any alcohol for five days. I even went to see a play and didn’t have a drink (because there wasn’t a bar….). So up to the last weekend in April, yay, back on track and catching up with where I should be, schedule-wise. But then I went to mum’s to watch the Newcastle match, and it’s all kind of gone to pot again.
So buoyed were we by the inexplicable 0-6 win at St James’s Park, that we all went a bit silly and began celebrating like we’d just won the League. And then, of course, the following week was lined with wall-to-wall footy, so it made sense to stay at Mossley Hill Towers to enjoy all this sporting entertainment (and free food). Plus, I was convinced Chelsea were going to get dumped out of the UEFA Cup, and didn’t want to miss a minute. D’oh. (I’ve already dug out two Benfica scarves for Marianne and I to wear to the A-Arena a week on Wednesday…).
In the 8 days I’ve been here, I feel like I’ve quadrupled in size. Breakfast and lunch, not a problem, always fruit & yoghurt, but it’s the evenings that have been killing me. Obviously I don’t expect mum to cook a separate, low-fat meal for me. And, if I had any sense of portion control, then I’d still be OK. But she always makes too much. And she doesn’t tolerate leftovers. Everything has to be eaten, or there’s hell to pay. This means I’ve ended up being forced to eat double helpings of sausage & mash, home-made lasagne, cottage pie with bread and butter, Philadelphia-stuffed chicken breast wrapped in pancetta, and lamb & lentil curry. And we can’t watch football without beer, that’s just wrong, so all in all it’s been a bit of a calorie car crash.
Saturday, I met the gang in town, for a pre-Derby soiree, and ended up scoffing sausage, chips and gravy on the way home. Sunday, I didn’t go the match (it would probably have been healthier if I had…), but stayed in Liverpool 18, drinking more wine, then chowing down on a tuna & Philly pasta bake. My digestive system feels like it’s been hit by a truck of lard.
It’s because I have no willpower. None. What I probably need to do, is go back to the Weight Loss Resources website and reactivate my account. There’s a lot to be said for having to input every single thing that passes your lips, into a database which shows you in big red letters exactly what’s going to happen if you don’t put down that piece of cheese. It’s not that I’ve forgotten how many calories are in a glass of wine, or a lard sandwich, but actually recording it has a huge psychological impact on your motivation. I don’t think there’s any doubting the correlation between my weight loss impasse, and the date I unsubscribed from the ‘program’. Filling in little boxes every day, seeing progress graphs, and having to actually plan meals and treats, was absolutely key to success.
Coming off the subscription (and saving a tenner a month…), seemed like an OK thing to do, because I knew off by heart how many calories were in what, and how much I could have a day, and I seemed to be paying money just to tell myself what I already knew. But now I realise that calorie education isn’t the point of these programs. What’s far more important, is acquiring the discipline to stick to routines, to feel strong enough to say no when you’re faced with a tempting dilemma, and to become almost machine-like in the logistics of maintaining what is, to all intents and purposes, a life-altering mission.
The next couple of months are going to be as tough as ever, discipline-wise, as there’s a lot of stuff going, not least three extra-curricular social occasions well outside my comfort zone of willpower. I’m also struggling with work at the moment, in that I used to have loads, and now there is literally nothing. The rest of the day will be spent job-hunting, filtering out the serious ads from the taking-the-piss ones, which include stuff like this guy who wants someone to write him 5 children’s books for a total amount of $50-$150. I might reply to that one, to tell him he’s missed a couple of zeroes off the fee. Seriously, though, there are tons of jokers like that who really expect someone to come along and say “hey, do you know what, why don’t I pay you to write your play/book/article/set of encyclopaedias?”
Anyway, I’m going home tomorrow, so that gives me four days of hermitage to try and shift this set of spare tyres that’s appeared on my belly, before some inevitable beerage for the Cup Final/Fulham game. It still amazes me, though, how deviating from a normal routine, even for a few days, can have such a drastic effect on weight, mood and motivation. And someone still hasn’t explained to me how it is that all the foods of loveliness are bad for us, and the healthy stuff is largely unsatisfying. Something else to add to my argument against the existence of God. Doesn’t He want us to be happy?
Things I’m Dreading This Week
1. Not finding work
Lean times are horrible, just horrible. And even when there is work around, you have to factor in the likelihood that, even though you meet the deadlines, the client will take as long as possible to pay you. Some clients who I work for regularly, will often pay up front, because the trust is there, and they are a godsend, but usually you have to deal with piss-takers who will threaten you with deductions if you don’t deliver on time, then ignore your emails when you supply the invoice. It’s another reason why I’ve been at mum’s for over a week…I just can’t afford to go home.
This Week I Have Mostly Been Watching…
Finished Season 1, so will get to 2 & 3 very soon. Loving it, although I hear the subsequent seasons aren’t as good?
So glad Natalie won, she was ace, a proper little Eliza Doolittle. But as soon as Dale and Larkin cocked up in the semis but still got through to the final, there was only Natalie who could justifiably win it.
The Olds put this on, thinking it might be funny. It’s like Rising Damp meets Are You Being Served, but without any comedy content whatsoever. Either Messrs Jacobi and McKellen were waterboarded into signing the contracts, or ITV have got something ‘on them’, because for two actors as eminent as those two, to appear in such a pile of shite as this, is a bit worrying. The only vicious thing about this sitcom, was the level of agony inflicted upon the viewers. The fact that this show even got commissioned, needs immediate investigation by the Serious Fraud Office.
4. The Wright Way
Well let’s not even go there….
The Stats Bit:
Month 1: 8.75lbs
Month 2: 5.25lbs
Month 3: 1lb
Month 4: 0.5lbs
Month 5: 3lbs
Month 6: 1.5lbs
Month 7: 0lbs
Month 8: 0lbs
Week 33 – 2lbs
Week 34-35 – plus 2lbs
Total after 245 days: 20lbs