Where next?

So what am I going to do? A plan I can stick to seems to be the endless problem.

Firstly, I want a date that is not so far in the future. I'm going to pick Easter, because I'm going on holiday for a couple of weeks and I want to be comfortable on the flight, not full of gallstones and misery. Easter is 12 weeks away.

I have no great illusions about what I'm capable of. Even half a pound a week seems impossibly difficult, but setting a goal of less than that seems pathetic. So: 12 weeks = 6lb. Half a stone is enough to make you feel better in yourself.

Next question: How?
I have limited success with limiting food. Maybe I should just try to cut certain things out altogether. Counting things doesn't work. I forget and get confused and bargain now against a later which never comes. So I shall cut out certain food stuffs altogether for the 12 weeks.

Looking at the Eatwell plate, I think I should cut out everything from the fatty section except margarine on my sandwiches. No alcohol, cake, biscuits, crisps, chips, pizza... hang on, haven't I posted this before?

Oh bugger.

Summing up

Merry Xmas everybody. It is Boxing Day already. The feast has been eaten. Well, half eaten, anyway. We couldn't manage the entire spread, even between nine of us. In fact, it was a mission so large I didn't even try. Consequently, I didn't overeat excessively yesterday - merely a mild stuffing instead of a nauseating one. I didn't even drink so very much that I got tipsy. A serious oversight, I feel!

So, I think it is time to tally up the year. I have been blogging for a year, trying to lose weight for about seven years.; failing repeatedly for most of that time. This year, I have been to the gym about 30 times, been swimming maybe fifteen times, walked the dog about 500 miles, climbed peaks totalling more than 6500m and been to the climbing wall around 50 times. This morning I weighed 13 st 2, so total weight loss from highest point is 5lb. Aargh! The frustration.

Bridget Jones gained and lost the same pound 16 times over the year (go read her diary) so I know I am not alone in this. Little comments like that from Bridget obviously resonated with enough people to make the book a huge side-achingly funny success. Trouble is, it isn't funny when your sides are aching from blubber instead of laughing.

Well, do more Jemima things, says Max. Trouble is, Jemima likes eating or rather, dislikes depriving herself. I got the feeling he was coming up with something off the top of his head. It didn't help that the Centre had just had a police raid and the final summing up was carried out in the public foyer. Not exactly conducive to deep, meaningful or productive advice.

Hmm. So where next?

Tuesday, Wednesday

So yesterday, I read my book snuggled into bed. I even finished it, which is a nice thing to do. So often, since I had kids, I get interrupted when trying to achieve anything, that I give up on it. I swear I didn't read a book for about four years when the kids were small.

Today, I have to say, I've done nothing 'me'. I wanted to go climbing or swimming but neither of those things seem likely to happen and now I have a bit of a sore throat, so I think I'll have an early night instead.

I might even write some Xmas cards. Better late than never.

Having too much fun?

Max, my guru, says I should just have lots of fun, build up my self-esteem and stop worrying about losing weight. This sounds like my kind of religion. Let's enjoy life to the full and worry about nothing. We all want to do it. We all believe this is the ideal. So why is it so hard to do?

Well, we've been trained to be responsible for things; for ourselves, our children, our environment, our futures. It is nearly impossible to let go of that conditioning, even if we truly wanted to. A life of hedonistic fun becomes empty without some sort of grounding. It is the grit that makes the pearl.

So, I am trying to find a comfortable balance between wild abandon and drudgery.

1. I'm trying to have some really good Jemima time every day: something I can list as a 'me' thing.
2. I'm trying to avoid all the things that make me feel crappy: like work and criticism and kids that are just in your face rude
3. I'm trying not to get too tired or stressed or hungry
4. I'm trying to spend some time with my amazing kids
5. I'm trying to have a plan for what I'm going to do next, so the adventure never goes from life.
6. I'm trying to remember that life is way too short and we should cherish every minute.
   

So far:
Friday 11th: had some 'one to one' time with my youngest
Saturday 12th: climbed a big hill and marvelled at the wonders of nature
Sunday 13th: went to a birthday party and spent time with some nice people
Monday 14th: did some writing (and didn't eat a large bag of crisps despite feeling like I wanted them after bitch of a teenager made personal comments about me. Didn't slap said teenager, either, though she really needed it and I was desperately itching to. Hope my own kids don't grow up like that.)

On the whole, a pretty good week, yes? I haven't weighed myself, more because I've been too busy, than anything else. I suspect the partying hasn't made me any slimmer, and the walk up the hill was a poor substitute for burning off the excess. Still, I'm reasonably happy, if you don't count work. I'd much rather being climbing a hill than being abused, but then, who wouldn't?

Pizza Free Zone

The kids are eating pizza downstairs with their three friends, who have come over to play. I am not eating pizza. Not one slice. I have learnt my lesson. Pizza gives me terrible gallstones. Despite having the most wonderful smell and mouthwatering taste, I am NOT eating any. It is not worth the pain.

Slime Mould

I am scared. Maybe this is not the place to admit to it, but I am. It is probably tied up in my sense of worth but nonetheless it won't go away. My health advisor has reached an impasse with me. He has spent six months where I have consistently failed to lose any significant weight. It is preying on my mind, that there will come a time, when they will just give up on me.

"Come back when you are ready to put the effort in, Mrs Williams," he will say. "The NHS can't justify wasting anymore resources on you. You're just not worth it. You're just not trying."

I get that tightness in my chest at the thought of being abandoned, but I suspect it will come. I have so much riding on this. For me, this was the way of solving my motivation problems. I would learn to focus and succeed where endless diets have not. I would learn the secret of self control. I could shed this outer layer of blubber and be, once again, the beautiful person I was. (Unlike many obese people, I was a normal weight until about seven years ago. This coincided with my last pregnancy and training to be a teacher.)

Of course, as a grown woman, I shouldn't be psychologically reliant on such a thing. I should be independent and confident. I should be coping with anything life throws at me; taking it in my stride, and all that.

Sorry, folks, I am a fragile flower that needs nurturing. Around seven years ago, my little blossom got moved from its comfy flower bed and dumped in a municipal wasteland where it gets trodden on every few hours. Is it any surprise it has turned from a bright blossom into a type of slime mould?

After a few years of being trodden on, the slime mould comes to expect it. This, I imagine, is where the fear of being rejected comes from. In its own green oozy way, the slime mould will cope with abandonment, but it won't be any closer to becoming a pretty flower again.

Shock Response

I have been doing a fair amount of thinking about self esteem and self worth. I realise that over the past few years my sense of self worth has been steadily eroded by a poor career choice and (deliberately eroded by) a campaign of bullying from my former employers. Whilst struggling with the stress and general crappiness of my job, I believed that changing jobs was the answer to my weight problem.

Indeed, since changing employer, I have lost maybe 6-7lb altogether. Unfortunately the full three stone I am trying to shed has not melted away, as I wishfully anticipated.

Despite a much happier outlook on life, I still wobble when I walk and have a Tourette's view of myself. I can't believe that anyone values me and I am paranoid that my current employers are out to get me, in the same way that my previous ones were. I am watching my back, scared and waiting to f**k things up. My whole sense of who I am has been shredded.

To be fair, my present employers probably don't give a hoot about what I'm up to. They aren't on my back watching my every move, like the last lot. They aren't waiting in the wings to savage me, but the (previously justified) paranoia won't quite go away. It may take me a long time to heal.

I think teaching leaves you in a state of shock, daily. I spend several hours a day shouting , living on my wits and trying to defend myself against the imminent eruption of unruly children. I wouldn't be surprised if the shock response is a physiological part of the problem. Doesn't adrenaline release lots of sugar into the blood stream, leading to a sudden dip in blood sugar later? One that only the hardiest of dieters could counteract?

The theory is: that if I value myself, I'll start looking after my body and only putting good things into it. This could go one of two ways.

a) I value myself and I feel I deserve more treats, rich food, nice wine, meals out ...
OR
b) I value myself and I feel I deserve to live long enough to see my grandchildren so I treat my body like a temple and only feed it healthy, moderate amounts of the best food ...

Obviously the second one is the one we want to aim for. In the past, however, when I have been reasonably happy, I have felt I deserved treats, and these aren't always healthy. When I have been supremely miserable, on the other hand, I can go a fortnight without managing to eat a full plateful and attend enough aerobics sessions to make me ache all over for days.

Somehow I have to get my head into the second scenario space. I need a mantra or some other way of focusing my intent, but then I always knew that. The problem is not in knowing what to do, but in getting me to do it.

Bananas

Yes, I am going bananas.

I felt I should make a public note of the fact that today I, Jemima Williams, actively chose to buy and eat two bananas instead of a large packet of Kettle crisps.

This has saved me about 600 calories. Please post congratulatory messages below.

:o]

Jem x

I'm Just a Girl Who Can't Say No

Max has suggested that my inability to say 'No' to food could be conquered if I work on my assertiveness and self esteem. I have to say, this idea appeals to me, as both are often lacking in my day to day life. I have difficulty saying 'No' to just about anything, and I pay the price for this lack of backbone, by being frequently used as a walking idiot by anybody who wants to get out of their own responsibilities.

Part of this is because I want to be 'helpful' or I want to be 'liked' or I want to 'fit in'. Part of it is not wanting to miss out on an opportunity. Thirdly, and maybe most profoundly, is that it takes a while for me to make up my mind, and I tend to allow things to happen around me while I'm thinking. By the time I've come to a decision, it's often too late to do anything about it.

Here's a to do list for assertiveness nicked from e-How:

Difficulty: Moderate
Instructions
Step 1
Be Firm and Decisive - Say No if You Have To. If you know that you don't want to do something but feel pressured by people around you, take a deep breath and definitively say that you will not be able to sign up for that particular task. Mention the reasons that this will not work for you specifically and then move on. When you are establishing boundaries with people, it is important to be clear, firm and decisive. If you typically have trouble with this step, start with small steps. Practice what you will say at home in front of the mirror until you are comfortable. Build small successes into larger ones.

When I know my own mind and I feel strongly about something, this is not all that hard to do. Enforcing boundaries comes with practice. Knowing where my boundaries lie is the hardest part for me. Often I don't know until someone of something has managed to really p!ss me off by overstepping the line. Even then, I am slow to respond, capping that flash of anger.

Step 2
Ask For What You Want Matter of Factly. People who have trouble with assertiveness are typically fearful of expressing their needs. Asking for what you want just means that you will be expressing your feelings. Practice stating what you would like to have happen at home and at work in a matter of fact way. Again, start small. As an example, you could tell your coworker - "I want to be involved in XYZ meeting at 2 pm today". Or if you're talking to a friend, you could start with - "I need to go to the dentist at 1 pm. tomorrow, so I'd like to switch our lunch date to the following day if that's OK with you." Speak up and voice your opinions at the lunch table. Value yourself enough to express your needs. This will increase your self esteem and give you the ability to ask for opportunities that otherwise may not come your way. Once you stop being silent people will get to know the real you and you will have a stronger sense of identity.

I know who I am. A sense of identity is not missing. I am somewhat reluctant to share who I am with others, at least at a deeper level. Mostly, people are threatened or bored by intelligence, and I get bored pretending to be thick. The examples above are not all that helpful, as they are really quite trivial matters. I need assertiveness training for "You skanked me out of a pay rise, when you gave it to my much less hard-working colleague, you walking intestinal worm." (And other related matters.)

Step 3
Achieve Your Goals. This an important step that may not be intuitive when thinking about assertiveness. If you set a clearly defined goal for yourself and achieve it, you will have expressed your specific need to achieve that goal, set boundaries on your time and articulated your needs to others in order to get to your end point. Setting and accomplishing goals will also increase your sense of self. Realize that being assertive is a good thing both for you and the people around you. Your needs and wants are valuable and make you the unique and special person that you are.

I don't understand this point. OK, I want to lose three stone. This is a clearly defined goal. After that the paragraph just says "and achieve it". Ah, yes, the miracle of prose. It is hardly news that achieving goals makes you proud.

What boundaries of my time could I set for this? What needs do I have to articulate? Don't feed me? I have a husband who has trouble with organisational skills. His particular mental wiring means he doesn't think a rule applies under all circumstances. He flexes it to fit his own desires. It is like a dog that having once been run over, is scared only of red cars like the one that hit it.

Step 4
Constructively Resolve Conflict. Conflict is a part of every day life. Being factual and taking a problem solving approach while stating your needs is part of assertively resolving a disagreement. If you're in the middle of a disagreement, step back for a moment. Listen to and acknowledge the other person's point of view. Clarify and acknowledge all the points of disagreement. Then, state your point of view, and negotiate a possible compromise that would work for both sides. If there is no compromise possible, acknowledge that both of you have different ways of thinking and leave it at that. Don't allow anyone to push you in a direction that does not work for you. Be factual and non-antagonistic in expressing your point of view. Inject some humor into the situation if possible.

This is much easier if the adrenaline is not up. Once the red mist has come down, compromise and balanced negotiation go out of the window. On the whole, I think I manage this, so long as the flash hasn't sent me into orbit. Where I find it difficult to express myself is when the person being conflicting is in a position of power eg a supervisor. Then I find it impossible to say what I want to, even if the other person is completely wrong, which, let's face it, they usually are.

Step 5
Be Interested In the People Around You. Be sincerely interested in the people around you. As you express interest in other people's lives and families, that interest will be reciprocated and you can naturally get into a relationship dynamic where you can easily share opinions and express your needs and wants.

Mostly I am, so long as I have time to be. I am a bit shy at asking questions and tend to hang about in the background listening. I feel as though asking about something is being intrusive, although I know really that most people can't wait to talk about themselves if given just the smallest hint of encouragement.

Step 6
Believe in Yourself. Value and express your own feelings, opinions and interests. If you strongly believe that what you have to say is important, assertiveness will become part of your natural behavior. Sign up for activities that you love and are passionate about. Develop your hobbies. Surround yourself with people that value and love you. Realize that you are equally as important as everyone else around you.

This is the tough one, especially when the bullies of the world spend years stripping you of any belief in yourself. Signing up for hobbies and such is no problem. Hanging out with good people is no problem. I have hangups from my bullied childhood and hangups from my bullied workplace. Having lost a number of friends for reasons I don't understand, I have hangups about believing that people really like me. I most certainly don't trust that people value and love me. At best, I assume they tolerate me.

How does all this relate to food? I don't know. Maybe the fear of 'not being liked' or of being 'left out' is enough to make me too weak to say 'no' when I'm offered food. I suspect this is something to do with it. Surely, though, this is not the whole problem. I am quite capable of buying and eating food without anyone having offered it to me, so in that event the only person I need to be assertive to is myself.

That is a whole new kettle of fish.

Epitaph

Oh dear, oh dear. Max has lunged for the throat in an excellent attempt to shock me into eating less. He suggested I should start thinking about my epitaph if I don't get my act together soon. OK, so he did admit it was a little harsh. I'm not quite ready to head for the banquet in the sky yet.

RIP Jemima Williams
"I fought the food,
But the food won."

He listed the numerous problems obesity can cause, most of which I have thought about regularly - the heart disease, cancer, diabetes, high blood pressure and so on. The one that gave me pause was one that maybe people don't quote so often. Obesity causes problems with joints and leads to back pain and loss of mobility.

Now, my freedom is important to me. I am an active person. I'm taking my 7 year old to climb Scafell Pike this weekend (severe weather warnings notwithstanding). Fat gits don't do that. I would be a very miserable person with lots of regrets if I ate myself into immobility.

I like climbing hills and mountains. I want to be outside as much as possible. Far from sticking my epitaph to the fridge, I think I will stick a picture of Ben Nevis there, for starters, followed by Mont Blanc and Mount Fuji.

I bought bad things, and ate them.

Max seems to have given up on trying to get me to follow a diet. He's given me a chart to fill in counting my resistance to temptation. This is not being particularly successful. That is to say, I can fill in the chart, no problem, but it is not increasing my ability to not eat stuff.

Over the past few weeks, Max has systematically worked his way through his repertoire. He has sent me to Weight Watchers. He has given me diagrams of a 'healthy eating plate' and got me to tally my food groups. Now, he's trying to get me to note when I succeed in avoiding temptation.

The trouble is, on the whole, I don't. If I am tempted by it, I eat it. The only way I can avoid eating stuff, is by not seeing it in the first place. Consequently, the tally marks on my chart are mostly of the 'Whoops, I ate it' and not the 'Hurray, I didn't eat it' type.

It doesn't matter that I can sit outside a friend's house thinking: "I will not eat any biscuits. I will just have a cup of tea," because as soon as I am presented with the option of eating a biscuit or flapjack I reach out for it regardless.

I was trying to avoid raiding the biscuit drawer at Mum's last week. I thought I would have a bowl of cereal to head off the temptation. Unfortunately, the kids had left the jaffa cakes on the side and I'd stuffed four in before I could get the packet back into the drawer.

Why? I wasn't even that hungry. It is like a reflex.

I read a piece on binge eating in the Observer last week. It was about how these poor benighted souls find a time when no-one is around, to consume high calorie, forbidden foods. They can manage up to 10,000 calories in a sitting, apparently. Well, I know, for all my sins that I can't manage anything like that amount, (probably 7 or 800 is the max), but I am guilty of hiding away so no-one can see me eat bad things.

Does that mean I have an eating disorder? The article went on to say that it is treated by Behavioural Cognitive Therapy. The only time I've tried that, was to sort out a phobia. The therapist suggested that everytime I thought of someone being hanged (one particular phobia) I should change the image to one of a bunch of bananas. The result of this 'therapy' was that I couldn't touch bananas for months! The phobia eventually went away on its own.

So, I guess, everytime I see naughty food I want to eat, I should imagine something horrible so it puts me off eating it. This doesn't sound like a happy way to live. Besides, I can't imagine this lemon drizzle cake I'm savouring, being anything other than light, sweet and delicious.

Maybe I should download a whole bunch of photos of fat-encrusted inner organs and Cellotape them to my fridge. Max tells me he's not allowed to shock me like that, which is a bit of a shame, because it might just work. I'm not sure what my visitors would think, though, and my kids would probably start having nightmares and stop eating altogether.

I am at a loss. It is hard to get the width of something as amorphous as 'temptation'. It is as long as a piece of string. Max said that the last person he tried the Temptation Chart with failed because they just made excuses. I would hate to think that I fall into the same category, but without any significant progress, I can see that that is what people must think.

Obviously, I am just not trying hard enough. I want it to happen, without any real effort on my part. I want to wake up, never be tempted by illicit food again. I want to slim down to a gorgeous size 14 in a matter of weeks. And while I'm at it, can I lose 15 years off my age, too?


Nope, it looks like the pictures of lardy internal organs is the way forward. I wonder what my therapist would make of that?

Balsamic Vinegar

Don't you just love crisps? If I had a choice, I would eat them every day, packets of them. I love the crunch and the saltiness. I love the tang of vinegar or prawn cocktail flavours. I like to lick the flavour off my fingers afterwards, savouring that last blast of monosodium glutamate.

Weeks go by when I won't keep crisps in the house, because I can't control my urges. I can't buy crisps for the kids without munching through the bumper pack myself. So, I have to ban such temptation for my own good.

Recently, I've been having a bad time on the will power front. I have rediscovered those Kettle crisps, that come in disgustingly large bags. Each family bag is a meal in itself. I love the balsamic vinegar and sea salt flavour ones, hidden inside dark blue packaging, like a sinful night. I confess, I am capable of eating a whole bagful in an evening - 150g of fat laden pleasure.

I have no cure for crispophilia, but I do have temporary measures to prevent too much waistline damage. I have discovered that you can get nearly the same hit using just the flavourings. Segments of tomato dosed with balsamic vinegar and salt give much the same kick. OK, so they don't crunch, but they do satisfy pretty well, without any of the calories.

If I could just find a way to add vinegar to something crunchy without making it soggy, I would be even happier. Is the world ready for the crunchy tomato, yet? Please don't suggest celery, it really is just string and water, even if it does crunch.

Still Fat and Happy

Oh dear, I have been a lax bunny, failing to write any blog here. Nothing much has changed, really. I quit the gym after months of sweating away revealed I'd lost no weight at all. Clearly this is not the way forward.

No, don't give me that. I went every week and gave it a thoroughly good work out, but it just didn't offset the lardy layer. The stress of work is still the major contributor, and until I stop doing that, I don't think the weight will come off.

There was an article in the TES last week about fat being a teaching issue. How well I know! I could have written that. Poor, stressed teachers are turning to comfort food to try and get them through the day. Well, maybe it's not quite like that. I always end up reaching for the quick, sugary or fattening because I am so tired I don't know what to do with myself and I still have another 3 hours of meetings/ marking / parent's evenings to get through. Others reach for the beer as a de-stresser at the end of the day. Either way, teaching is not a good lifestyle choice. It sucks.

Max, my health advisor has been great. He's given me a weekly food group recorded to tally up how many times I put different foods in my mouth. It is quite interesting to see the demographic. I don't eat nearly as much fruit and veg as I thought I did. I substitute cheese for protein, meaning I eat too much 'dairy', and I eat way too much 'bad' food.

Trouble is, I have no self will. Ask me if I fancy a bit of cake and I'm going to say 'yes'. People who answer that question with 'ooh, no, I just had a carrot stick' frankly baffle me. Still, it is interesting that since I've been tallying it up, I've made a couple of positive choices about having an apple or something, rather than a flapjack. I can't say it happens often, but it has happened, so maybe there is hope for the future??

Besides, last time I got on the scales, Max smiled encouragingly and said "You've lost 100g".
Woppy doo!
In six weeks.

Best go and have a lie down.

Strange

I don't know what I have done differently, but I have lost 3lb in the past 2 weeks, having not lost anything for the past 10 weeks. How weird is that? The only thing I can suggest is that because it is the end of term, I have been under less stress than during the rest of the year. Consequently, my body is relaxing from its default 'siege' position, and letting some of the excess go.

If that is the case, then it is worrying that my job is so bad for me, that it is literally making me ill, or at the very least, making me fat.

I've always said work was bad for you. I now have the proof!

Despondent

Despondent is not the word. I'm utterly miserable. I ended up in tears after the meeting tonight and some selfless soul dragged me back into the door to talk to the scary leader about how I'm rapidly failing to achieve even the smallest morsel of weight loss.

How can one person spend 8 weeks of their life thinking about what not to put in their mouth and still not lose any weight? How? I wrote everything down this week. I've discovered that the only place I can keep a tracker and remember to fill it in, is in the car. It sits there in the little compartment by the gear-stick and reminds me to fill it in. Good - tracking problem solved.

I still don't have time to weigh and measure anything, but honestly I go back and double check the likely amounts and I'm not too far off. So WHY after EIGHT WEEKS am I half a pound HEAVIER than I was when I started?

Answers on a postcard please.

One at a Time

Hmm, so far my litany of weight loss is: lost one, gained 2 and a half, lost one, stayed the same. So, after 4 weeks of failing to count points properly, I weigh half a pound more than when I started.

*sigh*

Letter to my health advisor.

FAO Max
Minutes of our meeting: Wednesday 29th April 2009.

Arrival 4pm.
Max: I haven’t got a key.
Jemima: OK, I have nasty coffee from the machine to tide me over.

Obtain access to room 4.20
Max: How are you?
Jemima: I lost 1lb!

Weighs to make sure.

Max: Excellent.
Jemima: It hurt. Being hungry sucks. I only stuck to it for three days.

Max: It takes six weeks to get used to it.
Jemima: Uh oh. [Thinks: Giving up smoking, the symptoms only last a week.]

Max: Can you do it again.
Jemima: Yes. [Thinks: If you are coaxing, cajoling and monitoring me every few hours, maybe.]
Max: Excellent. See you in six weeks.
Jemima: OK [Thinks: Holy cow! I’m doomed.]

Total weight gain this week: 2.5lb

Any chance of a little more motivation?

So far, he hasn't replied to my letter....
Jem xx

One Step Forwards

I am now an official weight watcher's member. I have read to leaflets and counted the points. The first week was not so bad, altogether. I did read the endless literature they gave me on the first night. There's a little green folder, filled with propaganda, which you have to really buy into in order for the stuff to work.

I'm not a great lover of leaflets. I know what I should eat, and what I shouldn't. If I could get thin by reading leaflets, I'd be a racing snake already. The problem with me is always the application of the knowledge. How do I manage to eat nothing more than the minuscule dressing free salad without actually killing someone due to food-deprivation-fueled bad-temper? I would happily read leaflets on the answer to that.

Anyway, I managed to eat the recommended dose of food for the first three days and not all that much more than it for the remaining four days of the week. I suffered gall-stones and tummy-ache and endless wind and bloating - all of which are symptoms of prolonged hunger. It was uncomfortable, bordering on painful and has reminded me why I fail at diets so often: they HURT.

This is not a lack of will-power in the face of a tasty cake; rather the will-power required is the ability to continue to suffer voluntarily for weeks on end, possibly the rest of eternity. No wonder dieters get fat again following a successful thinning.

I went to see Max, my health advisor. Having faffed around trying to find a room for us in a building they are shortly going to condemn, Max listened to my woes. Once he had made some sympathetic noises, he said that it takes six weeks to get used to less food and bye-bye, see you in six weeks.

Holy crap! I have to deal with this stuff on my own for SIX WEEKS! Giving up smoking was less painful. At least the major symptoms disappear within a fortnight. Whilst I can console myself with the fact that I did lose 1lb last week, balancing up the discomfort with the result, I'm not sure it was worth it. I just can't see an alternative. The options are go through the pain or die an obese death.

Great. Anyone got a low-fat Mars Bar they can lend me?

Weight Watchers: No Biscuits for Bonzo.

I went on Tuesday. It's a tin-shack of a hall, with no visible insulation or heating. The roof appears to be made of corrugated plastic and the noise of the rain drowns out any chance of talking. My leader is a scary woman called Liz. She looks like she's had all the flesh sucked off her bones, leaving wrinkly skin and a sharp demeanour. I handed in my vouchers and tried to look invisible.

I sat on a plastic chair at the front and waited for the other ladies and gentlemen to queue up. You get weighed and pay for the session first. It took a long time. There were about 3 women for every one man. Every age group was there, from young mums to pensioners. I was relieved to see I was about in the middle for both age and weight. There were fatter and slimmer people there.

Liz gave me the drill, which is basically: work out what each food is worth in 'points' using an incomprehensible scale, and then make sure you don't eat more than 23 of them in a day. Neither of these things is very easy. I sunk further into my chair as the main talk of the evening begun.

We applauded people who had lost weight and no-body admitted to having put any on. Someone lost half a stone in their first week! They must have had lead-lined boots on last week. I wish I'd though of that. Anyway, there seemed to be some camaraderie between the dieters, and I did smile at a few comments. Maybe it will be OK.

Well, I've spent 4 days trying to stick to the points. It is not all that easy. Firstly I don't know how much anything weighs, or how many points it has.

Secondly, even if I can work it out, it seems to have way too many, meaning I get to eat a mushroom and a bowl of cornflakes in a day, rather than a sensible amount of food. I am absolutely convinced that no ordinary human survives on this little food.

Thirdly, their list of 'pointed' recipes have a whole load of ingredients in them that I never normally keep in the house. This means serious organisation on my behalf (something I'm not all that good at when it comes to shopping and cooking), and buying weird stuff I don't know if I like, and I'm pretty certain the kids wont eat.

Fourthly, I still need to be constantly vigilant about what goes in my mouth, because it is still way to easy to slip in a biscuit, especially when you are ravenous, and there just isn't enough lee-way in the points to allow any biscuit-slipping.

The jury is still out on this experiment.

The start of it all (again)

Well, I made yet another promise to myself that when I got back from holiday I would really make the effort to stop eating too much. It probably comes as no surprise that I am heavier than I was when I left. Why is the trend always upwards? I am so fed up with feeling like I swelled every time I get dressed in the morning.

My enormousness has reached a size where I get gallstone pain frequently, especially if I sit down for a long time. Sitting crunches up my stomach and puts pressure on my innards, hence causing pain. It's uncomfortable and somewhat embarrassing to admit that even my own body hates me!

Anyway, I am going for constant vigilance, as much as I can, and so far it appears to be working. I have absolutely NOT eaten anything between meals for two days. I have not had any biscuits, snacks, late night comfort eating or alcohol for two days. It feels kind of good.

My random scales say I have lost 2lb in this time, though I am loathe to believe them as that would be super-fast weight loss. They are probably still recovering from two weeks without me standing on them.

The plan (ha!) is to lose a couple of stone by the summer. I'm going to the first Weight Watcher's meeting next Tuesday. The blubber is going to go!

Body Mass Index

Oh dear. I have nagged my doctor into sending me to the NHS Health Trainer in an effort to get someone other than me to take responsibility for my hefty figure. I finally got the appointment through last week and hurried along to meet a man called Max.

Max had to do the weighing and measuring first and work out my BMI (that's Body Mass Index, not a cheap flight to the Costa del Sol). You can work out your BMI online if you want to. It tells you what level of fat you have for your height.

It comes as no surprise that my BMI stalks home at a massive 31+, which is comfortably into the obese level of being a fat git. Max didn't want to depress me, but the website happily goes onto tell me that I'm likely to die young of cancer, heart disease, diabetes, high blood pressure and numerous other fun illnesses. I can hardly wait.

So, Max showed me some pictures of food and explained that I should eat less fatty food and sugary gloop. (No? Really?). I pointed out that my weight problem is nothing to do with ignorance, and everything to do with being so completely exhausted that counting calories usually gets forgotten before lunchtime. Then I stuff in something sugary in an attempt to keep going until the evening shift.

Actually I read something last week about how even 30 minutes missed sleep a night can alter hormone levels. That causes an increase in hunger leading to weight gain. I'm missing about an hour a night, on average, so it is hardly surprising I'm the size of a hot air balloon and significantly heavier that one too.

Max referred me to Weight Watchers. The local authority have bought a year's supply of Weight Watchers' memberships. It runs out at the end of March, so I was one of the last few lucky people to get 3 months worth of meetings for free. The pack arrived yesterday, but I shall start after Easter, when my head is a bit more together and the chocolate season is over.

I am aiming to shed 40lb in the impossibly short time of 3 months. I know that is way too fast, and if I shed half of that I will be very happy indeed. However, I have to really go for it, or I am heading for an early grave, which is, let's face it, kinda crap.

Easter egg anyone?

Nothing Changes

I'm way too depressed about the state of my body to even write about it at the moment. To fill you in on the details: I weigh more now than I did when I started going to the gym. I weigh more now than when I started rock-climbing and I weigh more now than I did when I was 9 months pregnant.

The NHS Fit for Life thing focuses on the childrens' diets, rather than their parents'. It seems to reckon that none of my skinny kids eat enough fruit and veg and all eat to many snacks. Hell only knows what they would make of my diet then!

The doctor referred me to a Get Fit health centre, which has taken 3 weeks to fix up an appointment for 3 weeks' time. Not exactly instant fix, then. The doctor has also given me a new glucose monitor, but reckons I'm not diabetic enough for treatment yet. Whatever that means.

All in all, I think I need a kitkat and a cup of tea to get over it.

The Silent Killer

I haven't posted in a while because I've been a little ill and very down. I managed to get a bug which required rocket blaster antibiotics. These killed off all my good bacteria and gave me the worst dose of thrush I have had in a lot time. On top of that I was feeling so completely wiped out that I could just lie down and sleep for England - not something you can do with small children in the house.

I was having moments where my whole face felt grey and my eyes saggy. These feelings would come on quite quickly and leave me feeling like death warmed up. I suddenly realised that they were happening shortly after I had a sugary snack, like chocolate or jaffa cakes. Uh oh. I know what that means.

When I was pregnant I had diabetes. It runs in my family and I've always known I was likely to get it eventually. The thing about gestational diabetes is that it goes away, usually, once the children are born and you feel about 1000% better instantly. This full blown diabetes won't go away though, and I know I will never feel better again.

I still have my testing kit from 6 years ago, so I checked my blood sugar. The Clinistix are 5 years out of date, but they still gave a high reading. Three days in a row I got a reading above 6, when it should be more like 4. Today I went to the doctor and had a reading done on a modern blood sugar monitor. It seems my ancient Clinistix are reading low rather than high. That's double shit. They need to do some more tests but the writing is on the wall as far as I can see.

I can't tell you how depressed I am about this. I feel like I have been handed a death sentence. I know, it's just silly and you can live 40 years with diabetes, but I don't want to be ill for 40 years. I want to be healthy for 40 years. I already know how shit I'm going to feel as the disease gets worse. I've had it before, but this time there will be no release from the endless cycle of hyper and hypo and the irrational mood swings from sleepy to violent.

I suppose I should be grateful that I live in a modern world where insulin is abundantly available and my condition easily monitored, but right now I feel like suicide is almost preferable. My dreams of long treks in remote places become even more pipe dreams than they were before. Even a day trip away from home will shortly need to be planned around access to insulin. Weekends away and holidays become a major undertaking, which need to include a fridge. Camping is only feasible with a really good cool-box. A broken insulin vial can stuff up a trip before you can say "You can't take that syringe on the plane".

Long term I'm looking at poor circulation in hands and feet, numerous infections, retinal damage and possible blindness, and lastly internal organ damage leading to heart attacks and finally death at an age much younger than I'd intended to make it to.

Let's face it: I'm fucked. What's more, I'm totally pissed off about it too.

Chicken and egg

A week's holiday is good for the soul. Already I have lost 4lb, just by not being at work. That's pretty good. I've been worried lately about the swelling around my ankles. I retain water down there. It's something that started back in December when I damaged my leg and had to sit still for a couple of weeks. Since then I have had a build up of water regularly in my legs.

I thought this oedema was because I was fat but my recent miraculous overnight weight losses make me wonder how much of my 'fat' is actually water? Which came first? It's a chicken and egg scenario (if you'll excuse the references to food). Am I 'fat' because I retain water, or do I retain water because I'm fat? And anyway, why did it suddenly start to happen when I couldn't get about, but not stop happening once I was moving again. That's highly unfair, I think.

Better give up work, then

It appears to be working! The 'take a rest' diet is having amazing benefits. I did the only day's work of the week yesterday, then went and climbed a wall a few times (nothing too energetic) and guess what? I am back down to 13st 2lb. Obviously the only way forward is to stop work altogether and regain my former beauty. The additional bonus of not working will be that I will no longer be able to afford to eat, so slimness is guaranteed.

Fantastic!

Weekend Recovery Programme

The week has rolled by in an agony of sleeplessness. I have not been sleeping well, and the climbing made me dog-tired for the next day too. Then I ate pizza, chips, and the kids chocolate bars for their lunch boxes. it hasn't been a good week.

I'm ashamed about the uncontrolled scoffing. Do I have an excuse? No, I was tired and I thought the sugar rush would help me get through the next few hours. Did it? Well, to a small extent. It made me feel better for a few minutes and helped me concentrate, but overall the calorie intake vastly exceeded the calorie requirement. I knew this, even as I was eating the last two slices of pizza and feeling somewhat overfull.

This is where the brick-wall lies. I know what is making me fat (eating when tired), and I know it even when I'm doing it. This isn't something that sneaks up on me. I look it full in the face and eat the muffin anyway. I also know that the sugar rush never keeps me going for as long as I need it to. I basically work too damn hard and don't get enough rest, and then I eat to compensate.

So, I haven't been to the gym. I haven't been swimming. I haven't walked the dog. I stayed in bed all Sunday afternoon. I'm not going to work today, or possibly tomorrow either. To be fair there are 2 inches of snow out there, so staying at home is hardly an act of rebellion. I just wish that three days rest would make up for six years overeating.

I wish!

Climb until it doesn't hurt anymore

I've had a rough week at work. To be perfectly honest my boss is a bitch. She savages you with words and makes you feel worthless. Any people who object to this treatment get hounded out of their jobs. She's manipulative and scheming. One minute she is sweetness and light, the next she is a rabid rotweiler.

This week I managed to get savaged by her and I have been fighting the emotional pain for three days now. It is horrible to be bullied like this. I have cried (Monday and Tuesday) and eaten lots of junk food (Tuesday) and finally I went climbing.

When there is just me and the rock it is possible to lose yourself. There is you and the 3D jigsaw, and your muscles are the only thing between you and success. I climbed until I hurt, then I climbed some more. I finally went home when my legs had turned to jelly and I couldn't physically get up the wall safely any more.

I lay in bed last night and my arms ached. They still do today. I felt good last night though, afterwards. I had worked off some of the sadness. Unfortunately it has come back again today, and I have no-one to climb with tonight. Oh, and I'm absolutely knackered, that too!

Side Effects

I went to the gym again on Thursday and took the dog for a nice long walk this morning. I definitely have more energy since starting this gym lark. Unfortunately I am the same weight as last week: 13st 7lb, so this flurry of exercise (ie everyday except Wednesday for a whole week) has made bugger all difference. Still, I'm enjoying life, and surely that has to be worth something. Maybe I'm turning all my fat into muscle, which every self respecting dieter know weighs more than fat (or so we like to kid ourselves).

Ironically, yesterday I went into stuff-myself-with-bad-things mode, so my weight stasis is the best I could hope for.

I was worried to hear on the news that they are going to let people buy diet pills over the counter at pharmacies. Specifically, a product called Orlistat. Diet pills have a long standing reputation for complete fakery, only taken by gullible fat people looking for a quick fix. Remember that dodgy Slimmer's Tea, for example? Complete quackery.

Orlistat is different. It does actually work. It paralyses the enzymes in your gut and stops them breaking down the fat. This means the fat can't be absorbed into the blood so it just travels straight through. On the down side, that means people who eat fat whilst taking these pills have constant diarrhoea. Of course if you don't eat fat, you don't have diarrhoea, and taking the pills becomes pointless. Still, I suppose it is one way of getting you to modify your diet!

Why am I worried to hear these pills will be freely available? Do I care about self-inflicted intestinal 'slippage' (as it is known in the trade)? Nope, not a jot. Do I worry that these pills will be abused? Nope, that is inevitable. I worry because there are other side effects, not reported on the news, that can cause suffering.

I have tried these evil tablets twice, prescribed by a doctor, both times. I did lose a couple of pounds before I couldn't stand the side effects any longer. The first time I took them they gave me a rash across the acreage of fat on my tummy. It itched and itched. Hydrocortisone (for eczema) had little effect. I scratched it until it bled, and there were bruises on my skin from where I had been so violently trying to rid myself of the irritation. I stopped taking them, but the rash remained for several weeks afterwards.

My doctor didn't believe the tablets had caused such an effect, as it wasn't listed on her side effect symptoms. So, a year later I tried them again. The rash returned faster, itchier and more widespread. It covered my stomach and spread to my boobs. I left scars this time. I returned the tablets within a fortnight, saying I couldn't stand it. It took three months for the rash to subside. It was hell.

Remember the Mantra:

I would rather be fat,
Than take Orlistat.

Motivation

What motivates you? I mean what is motivation? I am feeling so fantastic at the moment: energetic, happy, buzzing with excitement, but due to no apparent cause. I went to the gym on Saturday, swimming on Sunday, the gym again on Monday and rock climbing on Tuesday. I am kicking, man!

In fact I'm so motivated I am itching to get out and climb again tonight, though I don't think there is much hope of that as I my usual climbing partners are all tied up in one thing or another. I have enough energy for ten people tonight. It's kind of cool, but I don't know what to do with it! I shall sit and jiggle my legs up and down while I type.

There's a kid I teach called Ben. He's a lazy SOB. He won't put pen to paper because he "CBA, Miss". (That means Can't Be Arsed, to the uninitiated.) I can see that this obnoxious child is going to fail his GCSEs by several grades. He could get a C, but he will probably get an E, and then he will blame someone else for it (me probably, for not making him work!).

So, what is it about people that make them achievers or CBAers? Are we born that way, or do we pick up habits like that from our friends? Do we change according to circumstances or do we get fixed in one holding pattern taught to us in our pre-school years? I don't know.

I'm generally a fairly self-motivated person, but I do go through phases where I just CBA about things. The bigger the task, the more likely I am to decide that the effort isn't worth it. Maybe it is like that for Ben. He realises he has such a massive task ahead of him, that he has given up before he starts. I mean, he's not the sharpest tool in the box, to begin with.

The secret, I'm told, is to break the task down into manageable chunks. Maybe I should just think about losing 2lb, instead of 3 stone. Maybe Ben should think about finishing a sentence instead of the next three years at school. Who knows.

So, if I'm breaking it down into chunks, maybe I need to do that by time, because I don' t think doing it by weight is going to work. Maybe I should just try to get through until lunchtime without sinning, and not worry about how I'm going to cope until tea time until I get there. Maybe I should even break it down into 10 minute sections: I won't eat anything calorific for the next ten minutes, and the next, and the next.

No, I don't think that will work either, because there is that 'end of ten minute' point where you rest on your laurels and say "Woohoo! I managed ten minutes! I can now eat the chocolate eclair!" I suspect this will be self-defeating.

OK, what about if I go for endurance instead. Let's see how long I can go without any forbidden food. Can I make it through a day, a week, a month? That might work. A challenge is good.

I challenge you: 1 week without anything weight inducing.

Ready, steady...... GO!

Just One biscuit

I have had a cake free, alcohol free, mostly chocolate coated anything free, one biscuit week. I have been rock climbing just the once, and I have been stressed to the point of insomnia (by my job, not by a lack of cake). Last week's experiment to see if weight loss is connected to exercise showed that four hours of heavy exercise made me gain 5 lb. This week's experiment to see if weight loss is connected to diet has caused a weight loss of exactly zero pounds. Yep, that's right: zero, zilch, nada. I weigh exactly the same as last week.

With all due respect, the phrase I'm looking for is probably "Oh, bugger". So what can I conclude? That four hours of exercise is not enough to dent the layers of flab and that cutting out the cake and alcohol is not enough either. I need to do both at once, and more of them, I assume. Again, I feel I should express this as: Oh, bugger!

I seriously despise those 'health' posters that suggest you could save your life by taking the stairs instead of the lift everyday. It really does insult the intelligence. If you are that unfit that a couple of flights of stairs will make the difference, then I suggest you have bigger things to worry about.

Did you watch 'Half Ton Son' the other weekend? This American teenager was getting on for 60 stone. He lay, beached and imprisoned in his bulk, in his bedroom, whilst his overly clingy mother fed him popsicles by hand a washed his ass for him; (not at the same time, at least I hope not). I actually had difficulty sitting down to watch the programme. Not because of the scenes of weight loss surgery, but because watching someone enormous watching TV made me want to get up and do something, almost on his behalf. I wanted to yell at the screen: Just get up! Get out of your bed and do something!

I was itching to move, just looking at him. It was a weird sensation. I ended up wrestling the dog for a slimy, half-chewed tennis ball, that he wanted an awful lot more than I did.

Bizarrely, the government has devised an advert designed to get us moving. We are turning into an obese nation, I should know. The advert is a cartoon, showing how active we were as cavemen, and how we should all go down the park and eat apples before we all die of cholesterol poisoning from our sedentary lifestyles. It has no emotional effect on me at all. I feel no desire to get up and leg it out the door with fruit in my hand. The only thing that bugs me is how anatomically incorrect the diagram is, which shows circulation of fat in the body.

So, after my week of enforced chocolatelessness, we went out for a meal with friends. Yes, I was pretty good. I had a yummy baked potato with salad and garlic mushrooms. The sauce was wonderful: garlic and cream. I am drooling at the memory. I did break my alcohol drought too, but I worked off the calories at the gym this morning, so I feel assuaged of any guilt.

I guess I have a choice here: I can give in to the creeping weight increase, until I become the Half Ton Mum, that actually would benefit from the fact that I take the stairs; or I will have to Up the Ante. Clearly the former choice is life-limiting, so I have to make some serious effort at the latter.

The question is: How? What do I do? and How do I sustain it?

The Universe is Having a Giraffe

What the Hell is going on? I got on the scales this morning to find I have swelled to 13st 7lb. I am a baby elephant! This is despite going to the gym (again) yesterday and going swimming this morning doing 30 lengths. In fact this week I have surpassed myself in the area of doing lots of exercise, with over 4 hours of the sort of exercise that makes you out of breath, and makes your feel the muscles in your legs.

So why have I put on 5lb? This is the universe having a giraffe, isn't it? Where have I gone wrong? OK, I ate a few biscuits at work, but not that many. I did eat three slices of sponge cake yesterday too, but I peeled the icing off, because it's just too sweet for me. I did go to a fast food restaurant too, but I had a salad and the smallest pizza possible and I compensated by only having 2 small toasted teacakes for tea. What have I done to deserve this?

I really don't know. Honestly. I really don't know. I haven't pigged out. I have done lots of exercise. I don't guzzle fizzy drinks - I don't drink them at all. I did have a couple of glasses of wine though. Maybe that's it? Though I am at a bit of a loss to work out how that adds up to 5lb. The original bottle didn't weigh that much! Not even with the glass!

OK, I'm going to try an experiment this week, if I can:

No alcohol, no biscuits, no cake and no chocolate coated anything.

If I still put on weight I think the only solution will be to give up eating altogether.

Have I been naughty or nice?

Ooh, I have been such a good girl! Yesterday, I went to the gym after work, and peddled on that cross-trainer machine for 30 minutes. It has wide foot-plates that move with your feet and handles that move back and forth in sync with the legs. It's a bit like cross country ski-ing but not as hard or cold.

;

Then I did another few minutes on something called a windjammer. It's got a picture of a sail on the digital display. I assume it is based on one of those maritime contraptions, where you have to hoist the sail by winding this implement of torture for several hours at a time. Whatever the idea behind the digital display, it never seemed to actually raise the cyber-sail. The pixels kept going up a bit, then down a bit. At least with a real canvas, the damn thing would eventually reach the top!

;

Tonight I went climbing with a friend. She's one of these slim, athletic types that can run up the climbing wall, no matter how difficult it is. I haven't got a hope in hell of matching her ability. I think my stomach sticks out and throws my centre of balance back away from the wall, thus causing me to have to cling on harder and fall off more easily. That, or I just don't have the talent and strength.

;

Either way, it doesn't matter, for I enjoy the having a go part of climbing and I do get to the top of enough walls to make it worth while going again. My friend keeps inviting me back, so I'll just keep going.

;

On the down side, the biscuits at work have been calling me again. There is a biscuit tin, which someone has kindly filled up since the holiday. I scoffed quite a few at the end of the day today. Why? I was telling myself off as I did it, but that didn't stop me. So why did I do it?

;

That's not an easy question to answer. I think it's because I was tired, but I still had work to do, and I needed to concentrate for at least another hour before going home. Whether that justified the extra calories I consumed, I can't tell you. Probably not. It's undoubtedly part of the bad habits I have developed over the past five years.

;

What to do about it is even more difficult. The biscuit tin will always be there, whether I like it or not, so the temptation won't go away. If I take extra fruit or something for that 'end of day' snack time, I know I will just eat that first, and then go and eat the biscuits as well.

;

Yes, I know, you're all thinking how pathetically weak I am. I have no will power - I know! That's the problem! If you have a solution to the problem, then please do let me know! Answers, on a post card, please!

Cold Shower, Anyone?

It's four days past the New Year, and how many times have I gone to the gym? None. Yep, that's a big fat ZERO. Why? I ask myself.

;

Well, it was shut January 1st, so I have a good excuse for Thursday. Friday I was kind of busy doing domestic stuff. Saturday I felt a bit ill so I wimped out and today I went swimming instead, which has got to count as exercise, right?

;

I say swimming, but I really didn't do all that much. Apparently there had been some sort of problem with the boiler the night before, which meant that the water in the pool was pretty damn chilly. I paddled around in it, with a half-frozen 5 year old hugging me round the neck, as she refused to strike out on her own. I went for a weight-bearing style of swimming, where you try to keep afloat despite having an extra body attached to you.

;

Half an hour was enough. We headed for the showers, shuddering with cold, only to find that the showers weren't working at all. There wasn't even cold water coming out of them. Talk about adding insult to injury.

;

Well, I was very virtuous, and I didn't finish off the half-consumed cocoa that my daughter left. I went for the sugar-free coffee instead. I picked up the Observer Sunday paper on the way home. There was an article in there about how worrying makes us fat. This comes as no real surprise because I know I lose a few pounds every time I have a bit of a holiday, and I also know that since I started the most stressful job in the universe 5 years ago I have put on half a stone a year.

;

I'm not sure what the mechanism is that links stress to eating, but I know less stress has got to be part of the way forward for me. So, maybe, instead of resolving to get to the gym 200 times this year, I should promise to avoid stress as much as possible.

;

That probably means avoiding getting hypothermia down at the leisure centre.

World's Strongest Man

Happy New Year to all my fans out there, OK, so there's not that many of you. I saw a T-shirt the other day that said:

More people have read my T-shirt than have read your blog!

Damn, right! Oddly enough that's not really a surprise. This is my journey, and if anyone wants to follow it, then they're welcome along for the ride. Passengers are not, however, essential.

It's 2009 already. The Earth seems to spin so much faster as I get older, though apparently it is actually slowing down. There was an extra leap-second added to 2008 to compensate for this fact. Apparently the Moon pulls on the oceans, and the tides cause friction on the sea bed and the whole effect is that every few years we get an extra second. I'll try not to worry about it.

Have you made your resolutions yet? How precise are you? Do you just say "Lose weight" "Exercise more" or do you say "Lose 30lb" and "Get to the gym 200 times this year"?

If you go for the latter, do you have mini-targets, say for each month? Or do you get to next December and realise that you still have to go to the gym 133 times?

The qualifying heats for the World's Strongest Man have been on TV all this week. The kids love watching it, for some unknown reason. I guess it is quite entertaining. They like to see who wins.

The men competing are amazing. They are these enormous specimens of muscle-bound humans. Their bicep measurements exceed the waist measurement of my 6 year old, and their heads appear to blend into their shoulders. You know what I mean.

Their endurance, however, is the most impressive. They train every day, and have done for years to achieve this enhanced body shape. The defending champion, a Pole with a name I have not a hope in hell of spelling, tore his calf muscle on the first event. Now, my friend did that very same injury a few weeks ago, and she couldn't walk for two days. The Polish chap went on to pull a massive truck full of tree trunks up a track straight afterwards, though his swearing in Polish gave you an idea of how much it hurt! In fact, even with just one good leg, he still went on to win the heat. How dedicated is that?

Thing is, he really wants to win. (Probably should be past tense). Anyway, the point is: he has that determination, and that is why he has been named the World's Strongest Man for the past 4 years.

If I could distill out an ounce of that dedication. I would have no trouble fulfilling my resolutions for this year. So, here's a toast to Polish strong men. May we learn from your example.


Jem xx