Did I speak too soon?

Yesterday was not a good day. It started in the morning with a telephone call from my car insurance company. They wanted to discuss a claim. The only claim I know anything about was from an incident absolutely ages ago when I stupidly reversed my car into the side of a parked car behind me. I didn't do very much damage to them, although my bumper was superficially dented, but I left a note with my details and contacted my insurer so they'd be ready if a claim was made. After a few days of humming and hawing, the other party decided not to claim as the damage was so superficial. My insurance company told me that if no claim was made within six months then it would be dismissed. So naturally, not really remembering when all this went on, I thought they were phoning to tell me that the six months was up.

What they were actually calling about was a new claim. Apparently, four days ago, they received notice of a claim against me for when I drove into the rear of a pick up truck. In February. In County Durham. Errrr....I don't think so. For a start, I don't think I've ever set foot in County Durham! And if I have, it wasn't in February. The nearest I'd have been was en route to Harrogate in April when I babysat my niece and nephew while my brother and his wife went to Paris. I think someone has made an error with the registration number. Or is winding me up!

Anyway, all that went on, and my resolve was still strong. I ate my porridge, and cycled along to a recording of the XFactor as is my wont. And then my washing machine died on me. I hadn't noticed that the drum was still full of water and when I opened the door it all gushed out all over my feet, the pile of clothes waiting to into the machine and the floor of the downstairs loo. Great. I tried turning it off and turning it on again, that being "the code" these days, but no joy. Just more water.

By this time, I can feel a headache on its way, and the mouth ulcer that has been lurking near my bottom lip has been joined by several more towards the back of my throat. I'm feeling decidedly ropey. My lunch, which consisted of a ham salad sandwich and a satsuma is now feeling wholly inadequate. I toast two crumpets, but manage not to slather them with butter.

Eventually I reckon a bath might help. It probably would have done had I only realised that one of the kids had redirected the water to the shower. As I turned the water on full blast, the shower head leapt off its stand, crashed against the wall and ricocheted off the taps, forcefully spraying cold water all over everything, including me. Scrambling to turn the water off, or at least redirect it back into the bath I slip on the wet floor and knock my teeth on the side of the bath. What next? What next torment lurks?

The bath was too hot and I'm left with that sick, dizzy, faint feeling. I know I have to pull myself together; kid in the middle has hockey club and needs a wholesome meal inside her before she goes running around in the chill dark all night. Oh but I've no energy. Although I do have a Freddo bar in the bottom of my handbag. Oh look. I have three. I must have bought them for the children. Even as I'm thinking this, I'm eating them.

Self-loathing hangs about in the air as I prepare a meal for the children. Cries of "What's for dinner? That smells good" torment me as much as the garlicky aroma wafting from the oven. I resolve to have only a little bit, in order to balance out the greed and weakness of earlier. But resolve isn't hanging around much today and I polish off a full portion and the leftovers. And finish it off with a packet of cheese and onion crisps because what I really wanted, but was determined not to have was a glass of wine. Which makes no sense whatsoever.

The irony of all this is that yesterday was supposed to be Day One of a five week dieting challenge. (Ten pounds in five weeks. No alcohol. Well I managed that alright. Stick to diet. Pah. Exercise every day. I exercised my Caving In Muscles.) Day One. And I have the biggest fail of the last eight weeks. What's that all about?

So this is Day Two. This will be the measure of how serious I am about losing this weight. Perhaps it would be a good idea to print off those awful photographs to remind me WHY I'm doing this.

Maintaining

Maintaining enthusiam that is. So far so good. I'm down another two pounds this week and not only that but I'm starting to see Size 14s creep back into my wardrobe for the first time in, oh, way longer than I care to admit. It's certainly a morale boost, and hopefully it will give me the incentive I need to carry on. Afterall, if a size 14 feels good, imagine how great a size 12 would be. I think there might even be some size 12 items in the attic just waiting for my waist to shrink that little bit more!!

It has been a good week all round really. Biggest Kid had his belated birthday party on Saturday. We took him to play Laser Tag, mini golf and bowling at a nearby-ish leisure centre with some friends and then on to the dietary evil that is the Golden Arches for tea. I had a black coffee (I have to say, I do quite like their coffee) and one onion ring before coming home to a salad. The kids ate their own body weights in saturated fat and salt and declared it delicious. I then compounded the attack on their wellbeing with birthday cake and goodie bags stuffed with chocolate. They just about started to peak on the sugar high when it was time for them to go home. I'm sure their parents were delighted.

Today I'm wearing:

Straight leg stretch jeans (14)
Black, white and silver checked cap-sleeved blouse (14)
Black leather high heeled boots
Grey long length cardigan (16)
Bit of slap, bit of Asda sale jewellery.

Starting weight: 14 Stone 11 lbs
Current weight: 12 Stone 7 lbs
Total Lost: 2 Stone 4lbs

Dashed hopes

Another mother saga. Although I'm actually finding this one quite amusing for once.

Mother wants a new suitcase. On the (rare) occasions that I manage to persuade her onto a train to head darn sarf to Yorkshire, she complains that her existing case is too unwieldy to use on the train. She can't get it into the overhead rack without asking for help (which begs the question, why not ask for help, but that's another story), it's too heavy and really it's more suitcase than she needs for her purpose. I offered to loan her my spotty Cath Kidston case which is small enough to be considered hand luggage on most flights, but that was deemed too heavy and still too big. The Man I Married offered her the use of one of his wheeled computer bag things. Too heavy. I offered her Kid At the Top of the Heap's "sleepover" suitcase. Still too big. Over the summer we looked at suitcases in Asda. Little ones. Too expensive. (?)

So. Last week I was in Dunelm mill. And they had some luggage in the sale. And in amongst all the family size suitcases was one, bright lime green, tiny, tiny little suitcase, with telescopic handle and wheels with the words "Superlight" emblazoned across the label. Great thought I, and bought it, having checked the returns policy first. Just in case this minute, superlight little pocket of air was in too bright a colour for her sensitive eyes or summat.

I phone Mother and tell her the good news. Tiny suitcase. About big enough for Kid at the Bottom's pyjamas, a teddy bear, a couple of comics and a toothbrush. Any smaller and it would be a clutch bag. And "super light" - it even says so on the tin.

"How much does it weigh exactly then?" she asks, dubiously.
"2.6kg" I tell her jubilantly.
"2.6kg? Empty? That's over five and half pounds. It's a bit heavy."

My make up bag weighs more. She doesn't want a suitcase. She wants a plastic bag.

Goalposts all over the shop!

Depending on when you think I started this diet I have lost either two stone two pounds, one stone or nothing at all!

In September 2008 I weighed 14 Stone 11 lbs. By Christmas that year I had dieted and exercised my way down to 12 Stone 9lbs, but half way through January I was back up to 13 Stone 6lbs. I spent the next few months dithering about, losing and gaining, losing and gaining until, shortly after my summer holiday in France this year (where much was done in the way of wine and cheese consumption) I attended a friend's wedding. The photos that were circulating around thereafter were horrific; a real wake up call, and so for the last seven weeks I have really "got stuck in" and tried to put my head in a place where making the right choices and shrinking my not inconsiderable arsage is more important than wine and crisps. So far, so good. I've lost on average two pounds a week which means a stone since the full horror of my weight hit me. And for the last few days I've been hit not by shock at my reflection, but instead, a barrage of lovely comments. It's hard to believe that one stone alone could have made so much difference. Harder still to think what the next three stone might bring?! (Dare I actually believe that I could get that far? I hope so.)

Anyway, life isn't all about dieting. The Offspring have been doing their best to amaze and delight me this week too. Early on, Kid With Aspergers announced that he was taking up a musical instrument at school. "You know. The violin. Or the tuba. The tuba would be good. It's important to have a good solid second career in case the first one doesn't work out. You wouldn't want to end up a drug dealer." He has a point I think.

Kid at the bottom of the heap has discovered her singing voice. Unfortunately it's about as good as mine. On the drive home from Legoland last week she plonked on her headphones and was so carried away by the rhythm and beat that we had to endure "Reach for the stars...." all the way up the M6.

And Kid in the Middle has discovered a new freedom. Instead of taking the school bus home, she is now opting to walk. All very healthy. Except she keeps stopping off at the cafe for hot chocolate instead of coming straight home. She's ten. I'll just sit here and wait for certain sections of forumsville to implode I think ;-)

Time to revive the Wardrobe Posts. Especially as I purchased a size 14 skirt for the first time in years this week. Today however, I'm in:

Beige, scooped necked, long-sleeved fitted t-shirt. (16)
Brown pinstripe linen widelegged trousers (16)
Brown leather boots
Pink glittery scarf
Bit of slap, bit of Asda sale jewellery.
Big cardigan

Oh, and I think I'll start documenting the weight changes here too.

Starting weight: 14 Stone 11 lbs
Current weight: 12 Stone 9 lbs
Total Lost: 2 Stone 2lbs

And yes, I know I've gone for the most impressive-looking result. Wouldn't you?

I hate to say it, but...

things seem to be going pretty well! There. I've probably jinxed it and will wake up four stone heavier tomorrow.

We went darn sarf to visit Legoland in Windsor last weekend. I had been worrying about this trip for a while because the last time we went (about five years ago), the food choices had been horrendous, and as I had been steadily losing weight for the previous five weeks I was keen to keep this up and not reverse the trend with one weekend away. I was right to be concerned because in spite of the loud proclamations of "healthier" food on their website, it's fair to say that it's merely a relative term and they still weren't exactly overloaded with an abundance of vitamins on offer. Still, prudent choices at the all you can eat breakfast from Premier Inn kept me stoked up enough that the tiny "salad" I found for lunch was just about sufficient for my needs. That coupled with hours on hours of endless walking and queueing seemed to do more than mere damage limitation because I dropped four whole pounds of excess me!!

The one thing it did highlight for me though is that I felt completely out of control and didn't like it. I already know that I'm a bit of a control freak. Or at least, I like things done my way. When and how I say. According to my timetable. And to my specifications. Not that I'm fussy or anything, but if you can't do it right I'd rather do it myself. So get out of my kitchen!!! And of course, sitting in an hotel restaurant, or in a Legoland cafeteria, I had no input at all. I was quite taken aback at how scary I found it! I found myself getting quite ratty in a motorway service station where none of the food on offer had any nutritional information for me to assess. I couldn't tell if the dressing they'd assumed I wanted on my salad was laden with olive oil or not, or if the oozing mayo on the sandwich was full fat, or how lean the mince in the chilli con carne was. This was not good. It wasn't good that I couldn't have this information but it also wasn't good that I didn't feel able to "let up" a little for one weekend. Afterall, if I'd only lost one pound instead of the four that I did lose, that would still have been a result, and I'd perhaps have been less stressed about it all. So. Note for today is "Relax. Be vigilant, but not obsessive!"