Amazing how a pretty bad week diet-wise can be turned into a good thing when it motivates you to get a grip and get back on it.
So yesterday was cheat day and as one our friends was visiting for the weekend, we planned to spend most of it at various pubs around Leamington. I was thinking of scrapping cheat day due to the disaster that was Friday (and Thursday, and pretty much every day last week), but I'm glad I talked myself out of it. Although I'm probably going to have gained pretty much all my lost weight when I weigh in on Tuesday, I'm rapidly discovering that routine is pretty important for me to feel in control. I don't want to be inflexible, because that's what causes problems when something unexpected crops up, but I definitely feel more prepared for the unexpected when I've been successful in my routine for a few days.
So yes, cheat day was definitely on yesterday! I had a huge steak sandwich for brunch and all 5 of us shared packets of crisps and the most amazing little desserts - millionaire shortbread, a rocky road slice, a huge cookie and a raspberry flapjack. It was fun having tiny tasters of everything and also felt really indulgent.
Then my husband came up with the most ingenious suggestion - instead of just going to the nearest pub for a pint, we should make a day of it and go for a nice walk to get to some out-of-town pubs and visit some establishments we haven't been to in years. In effect, a far healthier pub crawl than usual. It meant we could get our fitbit steps up as well as having a few cheeky pints! It's times like these I remember why I married him - the boy's a genius!
So we set off along the canal to the first pub, The White Lion, where I had a bottle of Hoegarden and we shared some olives which were very, very tasty. Then we pottered on back down the road and through Newbold Comyn to get to the Newbold Comyn Arms. Here I had a pint of Magners Draft and we shared some prawn cocktail crisps and a packet of Mini Cheddars. After tramping through the park we stumbled across a BMX event and climbed up a huge hill to get to the cycle track. A true fitbit convert, I just kept thinking I'll get my floors up today! This is going to count for loads! After watching the guys and girls whizzing and jumping past for a while we headed back down the hill and to the Somerville Arms.
It was here we found a little gem of a pub. Not only do they sell draft ale and cider, but they have a cheese night. Any place that has a cheese night is fine by me! So we stayed here in our happy little bubble for the longest out of any of our stops and I had two pints of Weston's Scrumpy - a very cheeky cider at 6%. We also shared some Monster Munch (universally agreed to be the perfect snack for drinking), some Quavers and some nuts. After that we headed to our friend's house, ordered Mexican (although I had a mahoosive burger instead) and settled down to watch Anchor Man with a bottle of Old Rosie (another cheeky cider, this time at 7.5%!). This was swiftly followed by vodka and ginger beer!
When we all left a few hours later, sleepy and a little wobbly, we couldn't believe it was before midnight! Hardly rock n' roll for a Saturday night, but after eight hours of drinking, I guess we'd paid our dues.
The best thing is that I feel absolutely fine this morning - in fact, I feel fantastic. Not a hint of a hangover, incredible amounts of energy and loads and loads of motivation to get back in control and have an excellent week of diet and fitness. I did more than 21,000 steps yesterday - 11,000 more than my target - I climbed the equivalent of 16 floors and I burned almost 2,600 calories. Sure, I probably consumed more lard and sugar than I should do in a week, but that's not the point! And this morning I jumped out of bed and enjoyed every second of my zumba class - my instructor even commented on how bouncy I was for a Sunday morning!
I have the eye of the tiger and I'm determined to make this diet work. One slight adjustment I might make for next week, however, is to track my calories on a cheat day. Until now I figured it would be counter productive as the whole point is to get all the cravings out of the way guilt-free so you can get back on it for the next 6 days. But if I'm honest, I tend to go a little too overboard, to the point when I'm stuffing chocolates into my mouth simply because I can. I'm not actually enjoying everything I eat. Perhaps if I track the calories too, it'll encourage me to only choose the foods I really, really want.
Here's to an active, healthy week!
Sunday, 1 April 2012
Saturday, 31 March 2012
*hic
oh-oh, tipsy again. Well what's a girl to do when it's Friday night? Luckily it's 'cheat day' tomorrow, but considering the crap I ate today, it really shouldn't be. Time for a pint of water and then bed. As Scarlett said: "tomorrow is another day"...
Friday, 30 March 2012
Off the wagon...
...and straight into the lard. I think I've pretty much confirmed my own suspicions that mid-week drinkies lead to morning-after pig outs and, MAN, have I pigged out!
But back to last night. I've also come to the realisation that post-work nights out are a completely different ball game now I'm a director. I joined my company as an office junior seven years ago and for the most part, nights out have been pretty much carefree, if not a little messy. Since I recruited office juniors of my own, however, something's changed. I shouldn't be surprised I suppose, but the funny thing is that although I've been constantly moving up the ladder, the change has only happened in the last month or so.
This is the pattern that's happened the last few times:
First couple of drinks: everyone's relatively sober, chatty, inoffensive and it's a nice social affair without hierarchy. The main topic is those general work gripes that everyone joins in with. Feels like we're all in it together etc etc. Nothing's changed here, it's always been like this. So far, so good.
Three or four drinks: people start filtering off (mainly the drivers and mums) leaving the people who live in town to carry on the party. People start revealing what they really think of each other (usually about those who've left). The usual work gripes turn into individual work issues and worries about certain projects, careers or working relationships with bosses or clients. Again, this is entirely usual for a night out, but now the dynamic has changed. Instead of it being a chat, it's now a review - I've had four large glasses of Pinot and they actually want proper grown up advice rather than the usual sincere and drunken assertions that they're bloody brilliant, anyone would be lucky to have them and they should just tell any haters to screw themselves. And the ridiculous rumours start to surface, the ones you can't believe anyone fell for let alone got upset about, such as 'Jackie told everyone you said she was your favourite'. I mean COME. ON!
After quite a few drinks: Picture the scene - my junior is loudly introducing me to all her friends as her boss (that still weirds me out. One mention of being a boss in a social setting and I start to feel like a complete corporate dork) and keeps butting in to conversation to say that really likes me and to tell me which individual instances of my management she's particularly liked so far. All very nice, but all rather awkward. Another colleague is slowly getting off her face and keeps stroking my arm in order to get my attention every time someone else speaks to me. She suddenly bursts into tears and keeps saying she's terrible at her job, the MD hates her, she's ugly and disgusting, and I need to help her. All this forces me to be rationale and supportive, again not in the drunken you're-bloody-brilliant-you-are kind of a way, but in a more constructive let's-look-at-x-client-together-tomorrow and see how we can improve things together kind of a way.
The evening ended with the junior earnestly asking me if it was ok for her to go off and have sex with a guy (yes, she actually phrased it 'is it OK to for me to have sex') and the cryer getting so battered she could barely talk (small mercies), literally ricocheting from wall to wall when she attempted to walk. I had to wrestle her phone off her to get her fella to come and pick her up, but not before pretty much carrying her through the bar to the unsupportive jeers of other drinkers.
She tells me that when she reached home she stumbled out of the car and fell into a bush. She's got scratches all down her side.
And do you know what the kicker is? Not so long ago, those two examples of hideous, embarrassing drunken behaviour would have been me all over. Only a couple of years ago I fractured my ankle falling off a stage where I was dancing at an awards do. Not my best moment, admittedly, and I would be mortified if I'd behaved the way my colleagues did last night, but being the designated adult every time is simply no fun. I'm actually a little envious that they came into work this morning completely shame-free and nursing god awful hangovers.
And this brings me to my own post-drinks shame - although I felt sober by the time I got home, I still got the morning-after munchies: toast and a chocolate bar for breakfast, a chicken slice, prawn salad and chocolate cornflake square for lunch and, randomly, a sausage roll, two mini pork pies, a packet of Wotsits and a Twirl just sitting in my bag because in my wide-eyed scavenge for food I honestly thought I could eat all those other things too!
I feel sick from the crap I've eaten and guilty for not having the willpower to make more sensible choices. I need to get a grip and get back on track before this runs into a habit. In fact, can I get a do-over? Hold the wine this time...
But back to last night. I've also come to the realisation that post-work nights out are a completely different ball game now I'm a director. I joined my company as an office junior seven years ago and for the most part, nights out have been pretty much carefree, if not a little messy. Since I recruited office juniors of my own, however, something's changed. I shouldn't be surprised I suppose, but the funny thing is that although I've been constantly moving up the ladder, the change has only happened in the last month or so.
This is the pattern that's happened the last few times:
First couple of drinks: everyone's relatively sober, chatty, inoffensive and it's a nice social affair without hierarchy. The main topic is those general work gripes that everyone joins in with. Feels like we're all in it together etc etc. Nothing's changed here, it's always been like this. So far, so good.
Three or four drinks: people start filtering off (mainly the drivers and mums) leaving the people who live in town to carry on the party. People start revealing what they really think of each other (usually about those who've left). The usual work gripes turn into individual work issues and worries about certain projects, careers or working relationships with bosses or clients. Again, this is entirely usual for a night out, but now the dynamic has changed. Instead of it being a chat, it's now a review - I've had four large glasses of Pinot and they actually want proper grown up advice rather than the usual sincere and drunken assertions that they're bloody brilliant, anyone would be lucky to have them and they should just tell any haters to screw themselves. And the ridiculous rumours start to surface, the ones you can't believe anyone fell for let alone got upset about, such as 'Jackie told everyone you said she was your favourite'. I mean COME. ON!
After quite a few drinks: Picture the scene - my junior is loudly introducing me to all her friends as her boss (that still weirds me out. One mention of being a boss in a social setting and I start to feel like a complete corporate dork) and keeps butting in to conversation to say that really likes me and to tell me which individual instances of my management she's particularly liked so far. All very nice, but all rather awkward. Another colleague is slowly getting off her face and keeps stroking my arm in order to get my attention every time someone else speaks to me. She suddenly bursts into tears and keeps saying she's terrible at her job, the MD hates her, she's ugly and disgusting, and I need to help her. All this forces me to be rationale and supportive, again not in the drunken you're-bloody-brilliant-you-are kind of a way, but in a more constructive let's-look-at-x-client-together-tomorrow and see how we can improve things together kind of a way.
The evening ended with the junior earnestly asking me if it was ok for her to go off and have sex with a guy (yes, she actually phrased it 'is it OK to for me to have sex') and the cryer getting so battered she could barely talk (small mercies), literally ricocheting from wall to wall when she attempted to walk. I had to wrestle her phone off her to get her fella to come and pick her up, but not before pretty much carrying her through the bar to the unsupportive jeers of other drinkers.
She tells me that when she reached home she stumbled out of the car and fell into a bush. She's got scratches all down her side.
And do you know what the kicker is? Not so long ago, those two examples of hideous, embarrassing drunken behaviour would have been me all over. Only a couple of years ago I fractured my ankle falling off a stage where I was dancing at an awards do. Not my best moment, admittedly, and I would be mortified if I'd behaved the way my colleagues did last night, but being the designated adult every time is simply no fun. I'm actually a little envious that they came into work this morning completely shame-free and nursing god awful hangovers.
And this brings me to my own post-drinks shame - although I felt sober by the time I got home, I still got the morning-after munchies: toast and a chocolate bar for breakfast, a chicken slice, prawn salad and chocolate cornflake square for lunch and, randomly, a sausage roll, two mini pork pies, a packet of Wotsits and a Twirl just sitting in my bag because in my wide-eyed scavenge for food I honestly thought I could eat all those other things too!
I feel sick from the crap I've eaten and guilty for not having the willpower to make more sensible choices. I need to get a grip and get back on track before this runs into a habit. In fact, can I get a do-over? Hold the wine this time...
Wednesday, 14 March 2012
NHS Direct and The Biggest Loser
No no, I'm not referring to my self as 'a loser' after calling the NHS about my odd abdominal noises, but it's not far off. After registering my symptoms with the telephonist, she advised a nurse would call me back within 10 hours.
I think 10 hours is fair considering the non-urgent nature of the call, but nevertheless, it's quite a long period of time to spend staring at your phone (as you inevitably do when you're expecting someone to call). Anyway, five hours later my iPhone starts ringing (very loudly as I've cranked the volume up to maximum to make extra sure I can hear it) and.... it promptly switches itself off before I can answer the bloody thing! Argh!
That iPhone is a highly advanced piece of technology that can send emails and tweets, get me onto facebook, hold apps for just about everything and do all kinds of weird and wonderful things, but it can't handle the basic function of a phone.
So all I'm left with is a slightly peeved message from a nurse who probably thinks I hung up on her. The call's technically been dealt with, she says, so if I still need their services I'll need to call back. And wait another 10 hours?! Noooo.
So there you go, that was my slightly pointless NHS Direct adventure. All in all I think they did a grand job considering I called them about gurgling.
Oh yes, and last night I also watched The Biggest Loser (UK) grand finale. I ruddy love that programme. I started off raging against it, shaking my head about the fact it was promoting super fast weight loss that's unachievable for most overweight people. At least the people who have full time jobs and don't have nutritionists and personal trainers barking at them for 8 hours a day, anyway. I mean, they started off losing 1 or 2 stones in the first week. And after that anything less than a 7lb loss was seen as a failure. In a week?! Christ, I'd be expecting a fanfare if I lost that in a month!
Tell a fat person they can lose weight that fast and you might as well give them a tonne of cake and say 'hey, it's Ok - you can eat that now because I've seen people shed a stone in a week. It's possible, so you'll be size zero in no time - when you want to do it, of course. For now, you can just eat that cake.'
But a few episodes in and you do realise that these lardy people are actually becoming incredibly fit, even if they are still big. And the organisers do make them carry on the program for 16 weeks after the initial 8-week bootcamp before they do the final, which I guess is the most responsible way of making sure they carry on their new lifestyles in the long term.
Watching the final last night, I was so blown away by what they achieved. But the thing that stuck with me is that stroppy ol' Jessie, who I didn't like much, went from 18st 11lb - which is at least 6 stone heavier than me, to an amazing 11st 3lbs, which frankly, is a weight I would kill for right now. And she looked HOT.
I saw these people as being way, way, way above my size and didn't connect my circumstances with theirs in the slightest. I thought people that are that big are bound to lose fairly significant amounts of weight quickly, but I didn't think any one of them would actually be thinner than me by the end of the series. When Jessie was asked how she'd lost so much weight, she commented that one of the trainers had told her that running was the best thing for weight loss, so she'd been running 5-10km EVERY DAY during the 16 weeks before the final, and that had contributed towards her losing a whopping 40% of her body weight by that final weigh in. That's incredible.
I've always said that I'm not a runner. Back in the day, I used to be able to run for 15 minutes, but that was years ago and even with my brief stint with a personal trainer this year, half a mile was a struggle. But if Jessie can bloody do it, then so can I. I might not have liked Jessie as a contestant, but I definitely admire her for what she's achieved and, surprisingly enough, I think she's going to be just the inspiration I needed to get myself running.
I think 10 hours is fair considering the non-urgent nature of the call, but nevertheless, it's quite a long period of time to spend staring at your phone (as you inevitably do when you're expecting someone to call). Anyway, five hours later my iPhone starts ringing (very loudly as I've cranked the volume up to maximum to make extra sure I can hear it) and.... it promptly switches itself off before I can answer the bloody thing! Argh!
That iPhone is a highly advanced piece of technology that can send emails and tweets, get me onto facebook, hold apps for just about everything and do all kinds of weird and wonderful things, but it can't handle the basic function of a phone.
So all I'm left with is a slightly peeved message from a nurse who probably thinks I hung up on her. The call's technically been dealt with, she says, so if I still need their services I'll need to call back. And wait another 10 hours?! Noooo.
So there you go, that was my slightly pointless NHS Direct adventure. All in all I think they did a grand job considering I called them about gurgling.
Oh yes, and last night I also watched The Biggest Loser (UK) grand finale. I ruddy love that programme. I started off raging against it, shaking my head about the fact it was promoting super fast weight loss that's unachievable for most overweight people. At least the people who have full time jobs and don't have nutritionists and personal trainers barking at them for 8 hours a day, anyway. I mean, they started off losing 1 or 2 stones in the first week. And after that anything less than a 7lb loss was seen as a failure. In a week?! Christ, I'd be expecting a fanfare if I lost that in a month!
Tell a fat person they can lose weight that fast and you might as well give them a tonne of cake and say 'hey, it's Ok - you can eat that now because I've seen people shed a stone in a week. It's possible, so you'll be size zero in no time - when you want to do it, of course. For now, you can just eat that cake.'
But a few episodes in and you do realise that these lardy people are actually becoming incredibly fit, even if they are still big. And the organisers do make them carry on the program for 16 weeks after the initial 8-week bootcamp before they do the final, which I guess is the most responsible way of making sure they carry on their new lifestyles in the long term.
Watching the final last night, I was so blown away by what they achieved. But the thing that stuck with me is that stroppy ol' Jessie, who I didn't like much, went from 18st 11lb - which is at least 6 stone heavier than me, to an amazing 11st 3lbs, which frankly, is a weight I would kill for right now. And she looked HOT.
I saw these people as being way, way, way above my size and didn't connect my circumstances with theirs in the slightest. I thought people that are that big are bound to lose fairly significant amounts of weight quickly, but I didn't think any one of them would actually be thinner than me by the end of the series. When Jessie was asked how she'd lost so much weight, she commented that one of the trainers had told her that running was the best thing for weight loss, so she'd been running 5-10km EVERY DAY during the 16 weeks before the final, and that had contributed towards her losing a whopping 40% of her body weight by that final weigh in. That's incredible.
I've always said that I'm not a runner. Back in the day, I used to be able to run for 15 minutes, but that was years ago and even with my brief stint with a personal trainer this year, half a mile was a struggle. But if Jessie can bloody do it, then so can I. I might not have liked Jessie as a contestant, but I definitely admire her for what she's achieved and, surprisingly enough, I think she's going to be just the inspiration I needed to get myself running.
Tuesday, 13 March 2012
Oh the shame
The husband is demanding I call NHS Direct about the gurgling. I'll be honest, it's still going on and it does sound quite alarming but, y'know, it's gurgling. If I was on the other end of that line I'd struggle to keep a straight face. Anyway, here goes...
Off sick and feeling guilty
What is it about being off work sick that makes you feel so guilty?
It's a situation where you just can't win. I had a bout of bronchitis last year, and whilst I don't think bronchitis itself is contagious (it's a bacterial infection rather than a virus), when I dragged myself in to the office to take care of some urgent work a colleague actually wheeled away from her desk and brought her scarf up over her nose before I could even sit down. I was so ashamed, I grabbed the files I needed and went straight home feeling like the Elephant Man.
On the other hand, I felt awfully guilty calling in sick today - but why? I'm certainly in no fit state to go in today, and even if I did I'd just be passing round my virus. Yet, even though I'm genuinely ill, I feel the need to explain myself; perhaps provide some of the gory details about my symptoms or send a photo showing just how pale and crappy I look. And I couldn't even bring myself to sign off my round robin email without saying I'll be checking my emails if anything urgent comes in! Why?! Likelihood is I won't be able to do much from here and I'll have to delegate it to someone else anyway. It's madness.
In other news, I'm on day 3 of 'not being able to eat anything'. I tried some Complan yesterday, and although I kept most of it down I was up all night with the most horrendous gurgling innards. I mean, have you EVER been kept awake by what sounds like a leopard fight going on in a violent thunderstorm inside you?! It was so loud it woke the husband up several times. Freaky is an understatement.
It's a situation where you just can't win. I had a bout of bronchitis last year, and whilst I don't think bronchitis itself is contagious (it's a bacterial infection rather than a virus), when I dragged myself in to the office to take care of some urgent work a colleague actually wheeled away from her desk and brought her scarf up over her nose before I could even sit down. I was so ashamed, I grabbed the files I needed and went straight home feeling like the Elephant Man.
On the other hand, I felt awfully guilty calling in sick today - but why? I'm certainly in no fit state to go in today, and even if I did I'd just be passing round my virus. Yet, even though I'm genuinely ill, I feel the need to explain myself; perhaps provide some of the gory details about my symptoms or send a photo showing just how pale and crappy I look. And I couldn't even bring myself to sign off my round robin email without saying I'll be checking my emails if anything urgent comes in! Why?! Likelihood is I won't be able to do much from here and I'll have to delegate it to someone else anyway. It's madness.
In other news, I'm on day 3 of 'not being able to eat anything'. I tried some Complan yesterday, and although I kept most of it down I was up all night with the most horrendous gurgling innards. I mean, have you EVER been kept awake by what sounds like a leopard fight going on in a violent thunderstorm inside you?! It was so loud it woke the husband up several times. Freaky is an understatement.
Sunday, 11 March 2012
Karma's a bitch, ain't it?
Urghhhhh. So days after getting loads of undeserved sympathy for essentially being hungover, here I am with a hideous real-life virus and I feel TERRIBLE. Every part of me aches and I can't keep anything down. Now, this says a lot about the mindset of a constant dieter, but whilst this is no fun at all, I can't help but see the bright side of not being able to eat anything - I mean, I'm bound to lose some weight, right?
That said, I'm also feeling really dizzy and I've just slept six hours straight through the day, inadvertently missing the sunniest and warmest day of the year so far.
What's more, I watched Contagion last night. Waking up with a virus the day after watching that is more than a little disturbing!
Anyway, cheat day yesterday was a success. After loading ourselves with bacon butties (such a treat!) we drove to Ludlow, which is a gorgeous little town famed for its annual food festival. We logged an impressive 8,000 steps just by exploring the castle, and an even more impressive 49 flights of steps. The little Fitbit must have been so proud! Then we ventured around the town for a while and came to the church, which has stunning stained glass windows and dates back to the 14th century. We climbed the 200 steps up to the top of the tower (adding even more to our total) and then... it all went a bit wrong. At 2.30pm, you're already pushing it for lunch and we made the mistake of deciding to travel to a pub half an hour away which was recommended on Tripadvisor. It stopped serving food at 3pm. Now mroe than a little hungry and expecting great things from a cheat day lunch, we set off towards Temple Wells, which was 20 minutes away from the doomed pub. By the time we got there, everywhere was shutting up, so we ended up having a dirty (and I mean dirty) fried meal from a grumpy chippy. Chips (horrible and soggy), a chicken and mushroom pie, a scallop and pollock in batter, all shared between two. I think we took cheat day to another level. But again, it wasn't satisfying and it certainly wasn't tasty.
After heading home, we arranged to meet with some friends to have a curry, wine and film night, hence the paranoia-inducing viewing of Contagion. The curry was amazeballs - set menu for 4 and we got poppadoms, various starters, 4 different mains, rice and naan. It brought cheat day back from the brink. Hurray for curry!
That said, I'm also feeling really dizzy and I've just slept six hours straight through the day, inadvertently missing the sunniest and warmest day of the year so far.
What's more, I watched Contagion last night. Waking up with a virus the day after watching that is more than a little disturbing!
Anyway, cheat day yesterday was a success. After loading ourselves with bacon butties (such a treat!) we drove to Ludlow, which is a gorgeous little town famed for its annual food festival. We logged an impressive 8,000 steps just by exploring the castle, and an even more impressive 49 flights of steps. The little Fitbit must have been so proud! Then we ventured around the town for a while and came to the church, which has stunning stained glass windows and dates back to the 14th century. We climbed the 200 steps up to the top of the tower (adding even more to our total) and then... it all went a bit wrong. At 2.30pm, you're already pushing it for lunch and we made the mistake of deciding to travel to a pub half an hour away which was recommended on Tripadvisor. It stopped serving food at 3pm. Now mroe than a little hungry and expecting great things from a cheat day lunch, we set off towards Temple Wells, which was 20 minutes away from the doomed pub. By the time we got there, everywhere was shutting up, so we ended up having a dirty (and I mean dirty) fried meal from a grumpy chippy. Chips (horrible and soggy), a chicken and mushroom pie, a scallop and pollock in batter, all shared between two. I think we took cheat day to another level. But again, it wasn't satisfying and it certainly wasn't tasty.
After heading home, we arranged to meet with some friends to have a curry, wine and film night, hence the paranoia-inducing viewing of Contagion. The curry was amazeballs - set menu for 4 and we got poppadoms, various starters, 4 different mains, rice and naan. It brought cheat day back from the brink. Hurray for curry!
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