As the wise and learned regular readers of my blog will know, I decided a few weeks ago that it was time to terminate the baby that Mr Kipling had deposited inside my belly and get, if not properly fit, at least a bit more comfortable within myself. Here's another progress report for you about how it's going.
My dear and lovely mother said to me the other day that she thought I had lost some weight. By 'weight' she could well mean general standing and influence in the community, but I think she actually meant it in relation to my portly girth.
Now, the reason for her saying this will either be because:
a) she knows that's what I've been trying to do. So being the kindly soul that she is, she's telling me what she thinks it is I want to hear, whilst privately weeping about how I will never present her with a grandchild while I remain this large. (Hmm, a lot of 'she' in that sentence there. Oh look, here come some more).
or
b) she genuinely thinks that I have lost weight. Whilst on the surface she pretends this is great, inside she'll be worrying that I'm wasting away and will start baking me lots of cakes and pies.
But in truth, I really do feel like I am making good progress in the right direction to get in shape. I have deliberately stayed away from monitoring the situation with weights and measures because I know I'd get obsessed with them and the roller-coaster of emotions they'd trigger.
I have no hard facts to present to you as evidence of my stoic adherence to a way of life that now excludes the second, third and fourth helpings I would have at one time shovelled down my gizzard.
So instead, I have to rely on other, more wooly indicators. These are far less tangible, but they still provide me with encouragement and hope.
I thought I'd share a few of the things I've noticed that have changed since I've started eating a bit less and doing a bit more. Who knows whether they're all related to my new regime, but I think in all likelihood they are:
* previously when I used to walk along, I felt like a cow who had reared up onto her hind legs and was strolling along with very full udders that were swinging from side to side (not sure where the teats came from mind). But now I feel like someone has given me a jolly good milking and there is far less udder / belly sway during movement.
* my trousers keep trying to fall down! Honestly officer, it happened all of its own accord. Yes I know it was an unfortunate coincidence to be walking past a 6th form college at the time. No, it's always that shape. Yes, it is cold today.
* I now get full half-way through a meal. This has honestly never happened to me before! I usually manage to last right until the end and then come back for seconds straight away. So embarrassing.
* I've somehow mastered the art of taking tea and cake without the cake! I know this sounds abhorrent, but a cup of tea by itself is actually really nice. I've started to appreciate the flavour of it much more. Plus, it can actually be quite filling in an odd way.
* I've learned that eating healthy food has an interesting effect on one's bowels. Who knew that filling up on fruit and nuts (note: not Fruit and Nut) could actually power you to blow your entire duvet clean out the window. And by 'clean' I really mean, oh never mind. Was particularly proud of a late night [insert polite word for fart] that sounded exactly like the noise they play when someone gets an answer wrong on Family Fortunes. Epic.
* no one has given their seat up for me on the bus in ages now. Although that could just be because of a moral breakdown in society, rather than people no longer thinking that I'm expecting.
One insight I have had from reducing calorific input, is just how much my excess eating had been emotionally based. I know that comfort eating is a well known phenomenon, and I would do my fair share of this. But actually, more often I would have a feast to celebrate feeling well and happy. Either way though, the end result is the same.
I am aware that my feelings of good progress could all just be clever trickery on the part of my subconscious. My cunning mind might be trying to convince me that all is fine now, so I can stop this reduced eating nonsense - "ooh, looking good Mr Skeletor, now stop this charade and feed me with cake again".
But I will persevere because I HAVE THE POWER!!! *holds baguette aloft like a sword*
And if you've never watched He-Man, you'll be thinking I'm mentally disturbed right about now. But really, we both know you're the one who has missed out.
Showing posts with label cakes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cakes. Show all posts
Wednesday, 26 September 2012
Thursday, 6 September 2012
Food for thought
This morning I caught sight of my naked self in the mirror. My reflection made me gasp.
"Gee whiz, am I really that big? Wow, it's colossal! I should probably take a photo and show it to people I want to impress."
Alas, the part of me that was proudly standing there all massive and gargantuan was my belly. I knew it had expanded over the past year or two, but today was the day it dawned on me that I really ought to do something about it.
It looks as if I'm expecting some kind of mammal. As much as I'd enjoy to hear the pitter patter of baby elephant feet trotting around my house, I suspect the birthing process would be really too painful (are they born with tusks? Yikes!).
Those of you who know me will be aware that I do have a particular fondness for cake. It would appear that my love affair with Mr Kipling has, despite being as careful as possible, finally resulted in me being impregnated with his cake baby. Whilst a litter of Battenbergs would be brilliant, eating one's own young is something that I could never do - not even for some delicious, succulent marzipan. Mmmmm...marzipan.
So it's time to say enough is enough Mr K! I'm going to have to start a new relationship with Ry Vita.
Funnily enough, being fat is something that I've absolutely revelled in up until now. Let me explain.
For twenty years I've suffered with Crohn's disease which in case you don't know, is an inflammatory bowel disease that can affect any part of the digestive system.
This arrived literally on my 18th birthday (worst fucking present, ever) and has caused me varying amounts of trouble in the intervening 20 years, some of it extremely severe.
For a long period of this time, I was essentially just skin and bone. Doctors encouraged to eat as much as possible to try and gain some weight, but inevitably when you have poorly guts, absorbing the nutrients just doesn't happen. In fact, eating too much could cause overload, stomach ache and ultimately cause more harm than good.
Thankfully, in more recent times, things have stabilised and putting on weight has not been a problem. The mindset I've had since I was 18 was that I could eat as much as I wanted of anything and, so long as it didn't cause my stomach to get sore, there were no consequences to this. In many ways it was wonderful!
When I was weighed at my last hospital appointment and found to have a BMI of 26 (ie one point into the overweight category), I was cock-a-hoop! After years of struggling to get past 9 stone, I was up to 12 and feeling tons better for it. What would have caused most people to feel despondent, made me feel very proud indeed.
I'm actually not too bothered by weights and measures. What I think is more important is how you feel. I think it's quite easy to tell whether you're really overweight or not just by paying attention to your feelings. I've no idea what my weight is currently and I won't be measuring it going forward. What I'm aiming to do, is get back to a place where I feel well again. If this technically means I'm still overweight, I don't care - I know it's right for me.
Now it's time to break my long entrenched habit of being able to eat whatever I want without consequence, and get back into a regime with a more considered diet. I'm not planning on going crazy, or even giving anything up as such. I'm just going to try and eat a bit less (cutting out third helpings will surely benefit) and do a bit more, developing a new set of habits that will help sustain a healthy weight, rather than a situation where I fluctuate between extremes.
I'm not helped by some of the medication that I take for the Crohn's. It has the dual effect of sometimes causing a ferocious appetite, and also water retention. As much as I'd like to blame this for my current shape, I know that's it's far from the whole story, but it is a factor.
Basically I know that I need to be kind to myself during the adjustment process and let things happen at their own pace. As I write this, I'm thoroughly looking forward to a lovely picnic with Jessington Cupcake and Keira Husky tomorrow. And let's be honest, I'll probably also have an ice cream. But this will be a special occasion treat rather than something to be done everyday (as much as I would like that).
I will blog occasionally about my progress with all this. It will be interesting to see how it goes. This time next week I might be crying into a giant bucket of Hoola-Hoops doused in Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream. But hopefully I'll be eating an apple and feeling all the better for it.
And no Mr Kipling, by 'apple', I certainly do not mean a couple of your gorgeous little apple pies, heated up and covered in fresh Madagascan vanilla custard. *shakes head* Definitely not. No way.
*heads off towards kitchen*
"Gee whiz, am I really that big? Wow, it's colossal! I should probably take a photo and show it to people I want to impress."
Alas, the part of me that was proudly standing there all massive and gargantuan was my belly. I knew it had expanded over the past year or two, but today was the day it dawned on me that I really ought to do something about it.
It looks as if I'm expecting some kind of mammal. As much as I'd enjoy to hear the pitter patter of baby elephant feet trotting around my house, I suspect the birthing process would be really too painful (are they born with tusks? Yikes!).
Those of you who know me will be aware that I do have a particular fondness for cake. It would appear that my love affair with Mr Kipling has, despite being as careful as possible, finally resulted in me being impregnated with his cake baby. Whilst a litter of Battenbergs would be brilliant, eating one's own young is something that I could never do - not even for some delicious, succulent marzipan. Mmmmm...marzipan.
So it's time to say enough is enough Mr K! I'm going to have to start a new relationship with Ry Vita.
Funnily enough, being fat is something that I've absolutely revelled in up until now. Let me explain.
For twenty years I've suffered with Crohn's disease which in case you don't know, is an inflammatory bowel disease that can affect any part of the digestive system.
This arrived literally on my 18th birthday (worst fucking present, ever) and has caused me varying amounts of trouble in the intervening 20 years, some of it extremely severe.
For a long period of this time, I was essentially just skin and bone. Doctors encouraged to eat as much as possible to try and gain some weight, but inevitably when you have poorly guts, absorbing the nutrients just doesn't happen. In fact, eating too much could cause overload, stomach ache and ultimately cause more harm than good.
Thankfully, in more recent times, things have stabilised and putting on weight has not been a problem. The mindset I've had since I was 18 was that I could eat as much as I wanted of anything and, so long as it didn't cause my stomach to get sore, there were no consequences to this. In many ways it was wonderful!
When I was weighed at my last hospital appointment and found to have a BMI of 26 (ie one point into the overweight category), I was cock-a-hoop! After years of struggling to get past 9 stone, I was up to 12 and feeling tons better for it. What would have caused most people to feel despondent, made me feel very proud indeed.
I'm actually not too bothered by weights and measures. What I think is more important is how you feel. I think it's quite easy to tell whether you're really overweight or not just by paying attention to your feelings. I've no idea what my weight is currently and I won't be measuring it going forward. What I'm aiming to do, is get back to a place where I feel well again. If this technically means I'm still overweight, I don't care - I know it's right for me.
Now it's time to break my long entrenched habit of being able to eat whatever I want without consequence, and get back into a regime with a more considered diet. I'm not planning on going crazy, or even giving anything up as such. I'm just going to try and eat a bit less (cutting out third helpings will surely benefit) and do a bit more, developing a new set of habits that will help sustain a healthy weight, rather than a situation where I fluctuate between extremes.
I'm not helped by some of the medication that I take for the Crohn's. It has the dual effect of sometimes causing a ferocious appetite, and also water retention. As much as I'd like to blame this for my current shape, I know that's it's far from the whole story, but it is a factor.
Basically I know that I need to be kind to myself during the adjustment process and let things happen at their own pace. As I write this, I'm thoroughly looking forward to a lovely picnic with Jessington Cupcake and Keira Husky tomorrow. And let's be honest, I'll probably also have an ice cream. But this will be a special occasion treat rather than something to be done everyday (as much as I would like that).
I will blog occasionally about my progress with all this. It will be interesting to see how it goes. This time next week I might be crying into a giant bucket of Hoola-Hoops doused in Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice cream. But hopefully I'll be eating an apple and feeling all the better for it.
And no Mr Kipling, by 'apple', I certainly do not mean a couple of your gorgeous little apple pies, heated up and covered in fresh Madagascan vanilla custard. *shakes head* Definitely not. No way.
*heads off towards kitchen*
Saturday, 18 August 2012
Brown paper packages, tied up with strings (and containing cake)...
Thanks so much to everyone who has entered the competition to win a signed print of one of my heroes from the XXX Olympiad (full details from earlier post here).
I must admit that originally I thought the 'XXX Games' were something really quite different. But having seen the incredibly buff guys in the diving final all chilling out together in the jacuzzi and the extremely dodgy looking (greasy side-swept hair, big glasses) Chinese gymnastics coach hanging around very flexible young Chinese girls, I realised that they're actually much the same.
Anyway, I've had around a dozen entries so far. Usually I wouldn't be very tolerant of people who can't follow the original, clear instructions to leave an answer in the comments section of my original post. But to the simple folk who have tweeted, DM'd or emailed me your answers instead - don't worry, you're still in the running!
And the more entries the merrier too - anyone else who'd like to enter can still do so. And you can contact me with your answer via any method you like. Answers frosted on the top of cakes are especially welcome.
In fact it occurred to me that in order to help me with any tiebreak situation, it might be a good idea to list a few of my favourite things to help you influence my decision in your favour.
My favourite things:
1. Justin Bieber
2. Make up
3. Dressing up in my mum's clothes
Oh wait! I got muddled up and thought I was updating my fake 12 year-old girl blog there. Let's try again.
1. Cakes
2. Biscuits
3. Sweets (not liquorice)
4. Ice cream
5. More ice cream
6. A nice meal out
7. A nasty meal out e.g. McDonalds etc
8. Beer (but only smooth, non-fizzy stuff - e.g. Caffreys, Boddingtons, Guinness etc)
9. A nice shoulder rub / Indian head massage
10. Money (or book tokens if that's too vulgar for you)
11. Carex alco-rub hand gel (the green or creamy one preferably - I have a slight obsession with clean hands)
12. Nice hand cream to help with excess alco-rub use
13. A flash car
14. A chauffeur for a flash car (note, only get me this if you're also getting me 13.)
15. An au pair
16. General flattery (as in saying wide ranging nice things about me, not as in a highly ranked soldier named Flattery).
That should do for now. Feel free to also get me a surprise, but do make sure you keep the receipt.
There have been a couple of times this week when I've so nearly tweeted a progress update about the picture that would have given it away. But in broad terms, I wanted to mention how funny it is when you stare at someone intently for even a short period of time, that they start to change in appearance.
Ordinarily our brains seem to look at someone quite quickly and log a set of characteristics to help us remember what somebody looks like purely for recognition purposes. It helps us differentiate one person from another, but not see how they actually really look.
This is why it's so easy to miss noticing that a lady friend has had her hair done - your brain has recognised that this is Ms X, and then stopped the process of looking. One of art's great gifts to the artist or photographer etc, is a keen eye that really sees things as they are, going beyond our everyday, filtered view of the world.
So ladies, if your gentlemen friends don't notice your new hairstyle, don't be too harsh on them. It's not because it doesn't look nice. In fact, if it was awful, it's more likely to be noticeable and get a fake compliment (there we go guys - I've covered that one off for you - no need to thank me).
*brushes hands together to indicate completion of a good job*
*covers them in alco-rub*
I must admit that originally I thought the 'XXX Games' were something really quite different. But having seen the incredibly buff guys in the diving final all chilling out together in the jacuzzi and the extremely dodgy looking (greasy side-swept hair, big glasses) Chinese gymnastics coach hanging around very flexible young Chinese girls, I realised that they're actually much the same.
Anyway, I've had around a dozen entries so far. Usually I wouldn't be very tolerant of people who can't follow the original, clear instructions to leave an answer in the comments section of my original post. But to the simple folk who have tweeted, DM'd or emailed me your answers instead - don't worry, you're still in the running!
And the more entries the merrier too - anyone else who'd like to enter can still do so. And you can contact me with your answer via any method you like. Answers frosted on the top of cakes are especially welcome.
In fact it occurred to me that in order to help me with any tiebreak situation, it might be a good idea to list a few of my favourite things to help you influence my decision in your favour.
My favourite things:
1. Justin Bieber
2. Make up
3. Dressing up in my mum's clothes
Oh wait! I got muddled up and thought I was updating my fake 12 year-old girl blog there. Let's try again.
1. Cakes
2. Biscuits
3. Sweets (not liquorice)
4. Ice cream
5. More ice cream
6. A nice meal out
7. A nasty meal out e.g. McDonalds etc
8. Beer (but only smooth, non-fizzy stuff - e.g. Caffreys, Boddingtons, Guinness etc)
9. A nice shoulder rub / Indian head massage
10. Money (or book tokens if that's too vulgar for you)
11. Carex alco-rub hand gel (the green or creamy one preferably - I have a slight obsession with clean hands)
12. Nice hand cream to help with excess alco-rub use
13. A flash car
14. A chauffeur for a flash car (note, only get me this if you're also getting me 13.)
15. An au pair
16. General flattery (as in saying wide ranging nice things about me, not as in a highly ranked soldier named Flattery).
That should do for now. Feel free to also get me a surprise, but do make sure you keep the receipt.
There have been a couple of times this week when I've so nearly tweeted a progress update about the picture that would have given it away. But in broad terms, I wanted to mention how funny it is when you stare at someone intently for even a short period of time, that they start to change in appearance.
Ordinarily our brains seem to look at someone quite quickly and log a set of characteristics to help us remember what somebody looks like purely for recognition purposes. It helps us differentiate one person from another, but not see how they actually really look.
This is why it's so easy to miss noticing that a lady friend has had her hair done - your brain has recognised that this is Ms X, and then stopped the process of looking. One of art's great gifts to the artist or photographer etc, is a keen eye that really sees things as they are, going beyond our everyday, filtered view of the world.
So ladies, if your gentlemen friends don't notice your new hairstyle, don't be too harsh on them. It's not because it doesn't look nice. In fact, if it was awful, it's more likely to be noticeable and get a fake compliment (there we go guys - I've covered that one off for you - no need to thank me).
*brushes hands together to indicate completion of a good job*
*covers them in alco-rub*
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