Keep calm and carry on.

Current weight 123.1kg
BMI: 32

The diet has suffered. Pity the diet.

One thing that I have found an increasing embuggerance about dieting is that real life gets in the way a lot. Doing a 13 1/2 hour shift and then having to make a mung bean and squirrel tear salad for the next morning is not exactly a winning combination. Going home, getting into my comfiest trackies and eating dripping sandwiches in front of Police Camera Action looks much better. Be that as it may, I certainly am thinking more about what I eat, and what effect that will have on me.

One thing I have learnt is how scarily often I confuse thirst for hunger. You may think that is impossible, but since taking a 1 litre canteen of water with me, every time I feel hungry outside of mealtimes, I have some water. It does usually do the trick. And if it doesn't, well then I probably need something to eat!

This week the Ayatollahs from My Fitness Pal are back in charge of my life, leading me towards the path of food-based spiritual nirvana. I reckon if I don't lose the weight directly they will take it in flesh. Also, the exercise regime does seem to be working (especially the swimming) as definitely feel like I have dropped a couple of moob cup sizes, and I can even fit into my lovely new Ted Baker suit which I wore for Simon and Gemma's wedding:





This is me with my fellow weight loss warrior, Dave who was also done extremely well! The red wine is obviously low calorie....

Excuses....

First of all, let me apologise. I have not been here for a while. Many of you may have assumed that this was due to the fact that between combat pilates, boxerswim and aqua squash, I have not had time to post blogs, and that I am now a lean, mean racing snake.

Um...no.

Well, firstly the good news: despite a week off (which was always planned, so don't worry) I have not returned to the giddy heights of 130kg. I am 124.8kg. Not great, but considering that last week consisted of "cake,burger,cake,pizza,cake,curry,cake,fullenglish,cake,beer,cake,tapas,caaaaake, I am actually quite surprised. Also, I have finally chucked the size 40 jeans. I am firmly in the 38 inch waist category and feelin' mighty happy about it.

The bad news is that the calorie wagon has long ago departed, and I know have to rouse my flabby arse to try and catch up with it again.

I have analysed my behaviour over the last month or so and have worked out the excuses I tell myself. I have also given myself the relevant verbal beatings that you shall see below:

 Excuse 1: It's been a stressful day/week/solar age

Well yes. I do a stressful job, and the long suffering other half has had the NHS equivalent of OFSTED visiting recently, which has caused much therapeutic baking and for Domino's to develop a weird telepathy whereby the pizza guy turns up on our doorstep before we place the order. I have always said from the start that I would not cut out tasty goodness, but it becomes very easy to class every day as "stressful" and suddenly 5 nights out of 7 you end up surrounded by pizza boxes watching Murder She Wrote. Again. So, treat nights are limited again to 1 per week.

Excuse 2: But I'm on niiiiights

I have to say, having not done a night shift for a few months, it does come as a bit of a shock to the system. And sleeping during the day, you are not always in the mood for ryvita with dust at 5 in the morning in the snow. One thing the last few shifts have taught me is that I DO need something solid to eat in the early hours. I wish I was one of these people who could get by on a cup of lukewarm water and a banana, but it just ain't me, ya dig? So....warm, wholesome healthy food is the order of the day. Or night. Whatev's.

Excuse 3: I really don't fancy my soup/other life giving food.

Man up, princess

Excuse 4: I am too tired to go to the gym/it's too much effort.

THE GYM IS LITERALLY OVER THERE. LOOK: TURN YOUR HEAD RIGHT A BIT AND YOU CAN SEE IT. GET OFF YOUR FLABBY POSTERIOR, PRIVATE!

So, my dear friends, if you see any whingeing, laziness or generalised apathy from me, you have my permission to beat me furiously with a large stick. I know I can count on you.

That time has come....

Just to keep you updated:

Day 29
Weight 122.1kg
Gain/Loss: Nil

Yes, yes I know. I haven't been here for ages. The combined delights of overtime, unexpected snowfall and morbid laziness mean that I haven't updated this for a while. I am still holding out some home that people OTHER THAN ME are reading this. Are you out there? (*tap tap tap*)

So, the weight loss has hit its first plateau, as I knew it would. However, unlike the Tibetan plateau, this one is not unassailable without a sherpa and three pack donkeys. It is time, however horrific this may seem, to go back to the gym.

This afternoon, I strode out with joy in my heart, a song in my lungs, and possibly an ulcer in my stomach. I had been a member of a gym before, oh yes. And I had failed miserably. But this time would be different! I had three gyms on my mind and decided to visit each one.

Gym The First

This is a gym in a pleasant city-centre hotel. Not the largest, but cheap-ish and relatively nice facilities.

Me: Hello, I'd like to join.
Receptionist: Certainly sir, just fill in these 42 forms, provide a CRB reference here, a saliva sample here, and a 500 word essay on ponies trotting through the apricot blossom here.
Me: ??? (toddle off to find an apposite rhyme for "blossom")
Receptionist: Thank you for completing those forms. Now, we're not actually accepting new members at the moment, but you'll be on the waiting list...
Me: What the fudge?
Receptionist: Oh no, there's about a 6-8 week wait to join.
Me: Thanks. That's 25 minutes of my life I won't get back....AND THE PONIES ARE ALL DEAD!

Gym The Second

This is a council run gym/ leisure complex.





Oh dear sweet lord, no.

Gym The Third

I actually visited this place when I was last looking for somewhere to set fire to £40 a month. The chap who showed me round that time reminded me of this. And as I came in, wandering between racks of whey protein, glucose supplements and wolf nipple chips, I was afraid I would have a similar experience. But no, the gym had been done up....it was quite nice. And the chap who showed me round did something very odd.

"So Mr Dave, do you want some time to go away and think about this?"
"Err yeah...that would be good."
"Well here's a free day pass. Go and explore and let me know."

So I explored. I had a swim. I relaxed in the jacuzzi. I nearly died in the steam room.
All in all, Total Fitness, you impress me. And hopefully you can scythe the lard from my belly like a big...scything...thing.

Day 10

• Weight: 122.8kg
• BMI: 32.0
• Loss:1.6kg
• Thoughts: You may not win friends with salad, but you also lose weight.

 After three days at work where I beat myself into the <1500 cal per day regime, I feel I have done well. The moobs are certainly starting to bugger off. There were a few times of near-weakness (extreme headache on day 1 made me want to reach for the KFC, but I manned up) but all in all, I am quite happy.

This afternoon I am off for a swim at the local council pool. My aim is to contract cholera which will lead to a rapid loss of weight. And possibly vital signs.

Whilst I am here, I am going to post a recipe for Hannah's (happy birthday by the way) guilt free greens soup. Not tried it yet but it sounds good, so will prepare some today.

Hannah's guilt free diet soup

1 bag of watercress
1 bag of spinach
1 chicken stock cube
garlic
2 shallots/half a small onion/ 4 spring onions/something oniony doesnt matter which of the same amount

sweat onion and garlic in a pan with a bit of water not oil
add leafy green stuff and a little more water, steam til leaves look floppy.
add stock cube and enough water to cover the green stuff. boil for a minute or two.
whizz up in a blender or with a hand blender.

add pepper and salt to taste and more water if its looking a bit thick. You can maybe a bit of milk or a spoon of light philli to make it creamy if you want.

perfect tasty diet soup, with no oil or naughty stuff :)

Can the wagon please slow down so I can jump back on?

Weight: 124.4
Gain: 0.1kg
Thoughts: Damn you food!

When losing weight, I suppose there is always an internal debate about what to do when you know you have a heavy weekend on its way. I faced this very dilemma last weekend.

My sister has recently had a new baby boy called Joe, and this weekend we popped down to That London to meet him.  He is a little sweetie ( naturally he takes after his uncle - look: we even have the same facial expressions when hungry!) I knew that this weekend would be my first major challenge. Suffice to say my food diary reads a bit like John Prescott's dinner order, especially considering my brother-in-law is a keen wine buff.

I have always stated my weight loss regime is a marathon rather than a sprint. Previously, I have given up on diets in a big strop because either a: I couldn't eat what everyone else wanted and I felt like crap, b: I DID eat what everyone else did and grew a third buttock or c: I became so stressed trying to work out what I COULD eat that I tried to end it all by jumping into a catering size bag of pork scratchings.

My beloved and long suffering partner has said to me from the start that I shouldn't get OCD about this weight loss thing (I don't know what he's talking about. Me? Obsessive?) but I really took his point to heart this weekend. I knew I was well overdrawn on my calorie count (seriously: it's obscene) but I STILL counted the calories, because if I only count the days where I behave myself then I am just lying to myself. (And the good people at My Fitness Pal. Who I think could easily get violent)

Before stepping on the scales this morning, I told myself not to go totally yoyo if I had put on a tonne of blubber. And yay.

I didn't.

On we go....

Day 4

Weight: 124.3
BMI: 32.4
Loss: 2.7kg
Thoughts: No counting of foetal poultry occurring.

Last year I bought a set of scales that really take no crap. With ye olde fashionede mechanical scales, there is a certain amount of liberal interpretation that can be applied:

"Hmm. Well the little pointery thing is between 7 and 8. So let's say it's 7. But I may not have zeroed it correctly. So let's call it 5. Hurrah! Another stone lost!"

These new scales are frankly bloody terrifying. Once they warm up, you have to stand still for about 5 seconds. And they tolerate no amount of dicking about (I tried. God knows I tried...) And just to make matters more insulting, they then FLASH your weight at you. Bluntness bordering on the rude, quite frankly. So imagine my surprise at the fact I had lost that much!

Be that as it may, I am aware that early weight loss is always a bit more. However, a promising start.

Over the past two days, I have been back at work (more on that later). I actually ended up taking in more food than I usually do. A big problem of mine is the fact I seem to have a blind spot for 12 hour shifts, and generally think just one meal will be fine. Then after about 9 hours, I start wanting something to eat, and end up buying a sheep in batter or something equally unwholesome.

I have also started monitoring what I eat a little more, using the My Fitness Pal app. Having set myself a daily calorie count of 1500 calories, it is quite terrifying. Between that and my scales, I think that my electronics are ganging up on me....

Day 1

• Weight: 127.0kg
• BMI: 33.1
• Loss/gain: bugger all....it's day 1.
• Thoughts: Here beginneth the first lesson.

 What not to wear

 Now, before I go any further, I should highlight the fact that I won't be disgusting you all with progress pictures of me in my pants or anything so unsanitary. No, I am a nice person, so I shall keep my clothes on at all times.

Clothes are one of the problems: my jeans are a bit loose on me, but still, the first number on the waistband is a 4 (the second is a 0, but still....Christ!) I also have a habit of wearing baggy tops and t-shirts so the bastard gut is well hidden.  I think that I am not alone in this: the right clothing can hide a multitude of sins. Be that as it may, I would like to be able to wear things that maybe don't make it look like I have bought a mini-burkha. And if I ever descend into the realm of tracksuit bottoms for anything other than a: exercise, b: slobbing in front of the TV or c: literally nothing else to wear then frankly it's time for voluntary euthanasia.