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!
Friday, 17 April 2009
Sunday, 29 March 2009
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?
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?
Sunday, 15 March 2009
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 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.
Friday, 20 February 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
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!
Fantastic!
Monday, 2 February 2009
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!
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!
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