Occasional Scribbles

I know I’ve been embarassingly quiet and absent from my Diet Diaries series lately. Yes you’ve guessed: I made a complete mess at the beginning of my ‘never diet again’ stance! BUT I have to tell you, I have made progress in the last two weeks and have lost 7lbs! Not bad is it? So naturally I am buoyed up with success and back on my route to looking at least reasonable for my neice’s wedding in June. It’s going to be a bit tight as I only have around 5 weeks left so I really have to push myself hard.

There’s nothing like losing a significant amount of weight to give you renewed enthusiasm though. I think I shall write a book on the subject and join all the other ‘know-alls’ when I reach my target and I decided today to make a note of the meals I eat and their calorific content. I was struck by this idea at lunch time after such a delicious lunch that only totalled 250 calories and consisted of hard boiled egg, tomato and cress with a tiny teaspoon of mayo all mixed up and eaten with two crispbreads. I could have added lettuce, cucumber, celery etc and made it a bit bigger but didn;t fancy that as I’ve eaten such a lot of salad this week, but had I done so, it would have been even more filling.

Mostly I am eating salad and fruit which is very easy to do with this lovely weather we have had lately. Somehow it is so much easier to eat salad in the sun!

I’m releived to have got my mind back on the job. I really do want to make this the final diet. I have done it all before and then put the weight back on and its so depressing. I’ve learnt a few things though, this time around, surprisingly. I’ve realised that just because I can still get into my jeans it doesn’t mean I haven’t gained weight, just that the jeans have stretched gradually each day and even though they shrink in the wash, they NEVER go back to their original size. The pair I’m wearing now are a size 14 according to the label, but I know I have stretched them up a size and I didn’t really notice. Unbeleivable really. I twigged in the end, one day, by looking in the mirror and seeing a fat face stare back at me and I noticed that my shirts felt tight and some wouldn’t close in the middle. Fortunately I did notice before I put all the weight back on that I lost last year for my lovely trip to Norway, so this time there is a little less to lose, though it still seems quite a lot. Foolishly, I have left myself little time to complete the task when I had ages at the start. Seems I need to be under pressure to get going properly!

I’m also having my hair done. Not something I do very often. About once a year actually. I have three weeks to go before that so am hoping I will have dropped down a bit and that my face will not look so fat since, when I made the appointment, I had an idea for a style that would look good only if my face was slimmer – oops! I do hope it is by then otherwise I shall look worse. My poor neice will shuffle me to the back of the wedding photos hoping I won’t be seen, or at least not all of me!

Thing is I’ve had a few unrepeatable experiences over the years in my quest to be slim and stay slim. One such disaster was the time I contemplated joining a gym. In an effort to encourage me, my mother kindly paid for a year’s use which forced me to pluck up the courage to actually go. I’d long since been put off gym’s having seen skinny, fit looking people in them and rarely anyone overweight or unfit. I dreaded going and on the evening in question as I put on my unflattering leggings and pink baggy T shirt I had a couple of whiskies for dutch courage. This turned out to be very unwise. I arrived at the place and dutifully signed in and was told that as I was a new member I would have to go through an induction phase. This meant showing me what all the equipment was for, which was just as well, as I hadn’t got a clue. After completing the paperwork and handing over the fee, I entered the actual gym area and lined up with the other newcomers.

It was clear from the start that some of them resented this compulsory induction as they were clearly regular gymies, just not at this particular one and they were itching to get going. Boredom and irritation written all over their sullen faces. ‘Yes I do know what the equipment is for, you can see how fit I am, just look at my six pack, how do you think I got that then? I really shouldn’t have to stand here as if I’m a newby’, I could see them thinking. Feeling rediculous around the fit fanatics, I suddenly got an inapropriate fit of giggles and worse cracked a joke that wasn’t funny and brought a mixture of glares and disdainful looks from the pros. I was feeling so nervous and felt completely out of place in this Mecca of physical perfection which made me more giggly and hot, (it was a hot summer evening) and I was already in a sweat before I started. It was a relief when the induction was over and I was left wondering where to start and which machine would make me look the least stupid.

I decided it was probably fairly safe to have a go on the running machine since it didn’t have complicated bits that needed adjustment, for I felt sure I wouldn’t manage any of that. I could just imagine myself getting stuck with a hundred weight left by the body builder before me and being too shy to try and take off the weights with fingers fumbling uselessly. So I got onto the running machine, checked out the controls that made it faster or slower and gaining confidence in its simplicity, I started off. A fast walk and then a run, gradually increasing the pace seemed ideal and I happily trotted along, pony tail swinging, along with flabby bits, really feeling quite pleased with myself. I felt somehow safer now, that I didn’t stick out so much and slyly glanced around to see what other device I might be able to manage, planning exactly what I was going to do and where I was going, in advance, so I could go unnoticed smoothly to another machine. So all going fine until I wanted to get off. I managed to slow down to a fast walk but couldn’t see how to actually stop the wretched thing. I decided I was going slow enough to jump off, but as the ground met with my foot, I realised I’d been going much too quickly and fell into a heap on the floor. God how embarassing. I hardly dared look around to see how many people had witnessed this ungainly sight. My face was, by now, bright red and glistening with sweat and burning from the whiskey I had had earlier (which may also have had something to do with the fact that I lost my balance). I finally pulled myself up, dizzy and feeling such a fool. No one came to help and somehow it seemed all the worse because they didn’t. They all studiously ignored the catastrophe with the exception of an old man who was on the running machine next to mine. He didn’t stop but he did say that he’d done the same thing the first time he’d tried out the wretched thing. Not much comfort really.

After that, all I wanted to do was leave but felt I would look even more stupid, giving up so easily. They’d all be thinking, ‘there goes another twit, don’t know why she came in the first place’. So I found a machine that you sit on (can’t fall off) and grab some weighted handles and pull them together. Something to do with building up your upper arms I think it was. It was jolly difficult too since it was set for the extremely muscley, man- woman that had used it before me and I couldn’t risk meddling with unfamiliar tension adjustments. I lasted a few minutes and moved onto something that did the same for your legs and tummy, again I can’t be sure, I’d long since forgotten what the induction man had told me and didn’t dare ask again.

So as you can see, the experience was enough to put me off for life. I did feel guilty that I never returned and wasted my Mum’s money. Nothing is worth that kind of humiliation! This time around exercise takes the form of keeping up the garden and walking Skinny who is also definitely rotund. She is becoming a real pig. She searches for the scraps I put out for the chickens, whereever I put them she sniffs them out. She has also taken to jumping up on the kitchen counter and stealing the cat’s food too. In response to this, I have cut down her actual meals which in turn makes her ever more vigilent in finding other sources of food! Catch 22 really! Walks with her are at least lovely in the summer and gardening is at least productive and anything is better than that awful gym.