Thought for the Day

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

I must not eat half a frozen cheesecake.

Enforced Inactivity.

Thank God the snow is starting to melt. I don't know about you, but I have been stuck indoors for what feels like weeks. It has been a nightmare trying to get out in the snow to do anything. I haven't managed to do any of the active stuff I like doing. I can't get to the pool or go climbing or get to the gym or anything.

All this inactivity makes me tired to. The less I do, the less I want to do. It's like the will to act disappears and the desire to slump asserts itself. I've found myself pacing the house not able to settle to anything. I mean there's plenty to do. I could give the place a good clean up for a start, but I don't want to do anything. Even watching a film all the way through is a test of concentration I don't feel up to!

My blood sugar levels are fairly constant. I've done them every day first thing in the morning and they range between 6.9 and 7.9 without fail. This is not good. Prior to pregnancy my fasting sugar was almost always 4.5.

I have religiously ticked off what I'm eating, in terms of food groups and once again I'm eating too much bad stuff, even though I am trying to avoid it. It's like my brain just switches into idiot mode when it sees and ice-cream. Doh! I ate it again.

WHY can't I stop myself? What the hell is wrong with me? Didn't Britney Spears sing a song about that? ('Oops I did it again' or something like that.) I want to bang my head against a door in frustration. Hell, she probably did a song about that too. (Oh, no, it was 'Don't go knocking on my door.' I was close.)

I wish I could afford to go to Fat Camp or Anti-Fat Camp or whatever it is. I'd probably hate every minute, having all my freedom removed, but it seems to be freedom of choice that defeats me everytime. If I had no freedom of choice I couldn't sin. Damn, I am so frustrated by this.

Yours, still weighing 13st 3, and slowly going nuts with it,

Jem

Another Fresh Start.

Oh yes, I am sooo positive. I am going to be slim and beautiful. I am going to have a wardrobe to die for. I am going to be fit and healthy and live to be a hundred and ten. I am going to count food. I am not going to get too busy and lose faith. I am going to be a goddess. I will accurately judge portion sizes. I will easily eschew excess. I will float through life, light as a fairy. All this I will achieve before Easter. I am that superwoman.

Day 1: 13st 3, fasting sugar 7.9
Day 2 13st 3, fasting sugar 7.6
Day 3 13st 2, fasting sugar 7.1

See? It's already happening.....

(NB for those not oh fay with blood-sugar levels, a healthy fasting sugar level should be below 5. Two hours after a meal blood sugar should not be above 8. It certainly shouldn't be nearly 8 a good 13 hours after the last morsel passed my lips.)

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?