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!"

Now, where was I?

Where was I? Avoiding writing a blog by the looks of things.

It isn't that I haven't been dieting, because let's face it I'm going to be "on a diet" now for preeeety much forever. I'm have been trying to reconcile that fact in my head and struggling with it a little. I know, it's supposed to be about creating a new way of life as opposed to dieting, but the fact remains that as I age, (somewhat disgracefully I hope), I no longer have the freedom to eat and drink without consequences. Bits of me hurt and ache that never used to before, and so my ability to go out dancing all night and burn off the kebab that staves off the munchies induced by three bottles of red wine shared with not quite enough friends is diminishing. Anyway, I no longer have the arse for that mini skirt.

So now it's about choices. I can decide to make healthy choices and melt off some of the excess me, or I can make less healthy choices and watch my weight creep up and my health become worse. It sounds easy enough, but as always, I want my cake and eat it. (Sorry.) I want to be able to eat and drink what I like AND lose weight, and I've been fighting against the knowledge that this isn't going to happen.

Kid the eldest has been struggling with the whole choices concept as well. He arrived home from secondary school (yes, it has been that long since I updated this blog...they've all moved up a year and one has moved school!) with a letter in hand informing me that the school were hoping to take some of the children to Spain in the summer. Six hundred odd quid it's going to cost. Six hundred (or possibly even more) of my finest pounds. Well you can imagine the look on my face. I think there might still be the odd stray eyebrow attached to the kitchen ceiling. Anyway, we thought about it and offered him a choice. It's his birthday this week. He could forgo a present and we'd put the money in the Spanish Fund. He can ask everyone who would normally give him a gift for dosh and that can also go in the Spanish Fund. And likewise at Christmas. And if he's really keen to go, he can give up a goodly portion of his monthly pocket money. He has a week to make up his mind and I can almost see the cogs churning as he weighs up the pros and cons.

Talking of money, Kid at the Bottom of the Heap had the best fun this weekend. It was her birthday in June and she was lucky enough to receive vouchers for Argos, book tokens and cold hard cash. For one reason or another, we hadn't taken her to spend any of these until Sunday when we braved the mall. So many things, so many choices, so many decisions! (She's another one who hates to commit to anything!) I didn't think we were ever coming home. Still, eventually she picked out three books, a heap of plastic tat and a wedding dress for a stuffed rabbit. I asked her who the (girl) rabbit was going to marry and she said "*Custard. Because you know, just because granny doesn't approve, girls CAN marry girls now."


*Bad mummy alert. I have no clue which stuffed critter of many stuffed critters is called Custard. I also don't know if the rabbit has a name, although if the state of most of her toys' clothes is anything to go by, Miss Havisham will soon seem appropriate.

Dip.

Some weeks just seem to be more uphill than others. Or maybe it's months. Either way, I seem to have been mired in lethargy just lately. I can't remember the last time I picked up my camera, there are myriad computer magazines lying pristine in their untouchedness, and I find myself looking for any excuse at all not to leave the house.

Depression is a strange thing. I seem to veer from fired-up and enthusiastic about life, to feeling the need to hunker down and conserve every last drop of energy. For what exactly I'm not sure. Projects that I started so keenly suddenly seem like an awful lot of effort. I find myself concentrating on one thing (currently ironing) and attacking that with gusto, as if to prove to myself that I'm functioning, that I haven't given up. The fact that I'm doing that to the exclusion of anything else at all beyond the bare necessities can't be good. I found myself ironing a dishcloth this morning. This is not a good sign.

I have to go out today. I have promised a friend that she can take her pick from some of the dresses that no longer fit Kid-at-the-Bottom-of-the-Heap. This means finding those dresses (and potentially ironing them) and going to her house. I have a deadline. But the mere fact I'm sitting here typing this means that I am pushing back against it, as if leaving it to the last minute is the only way I can make myself go.

And there's something else that doesn't make sense to me. This week, I'm taking my three camping. I have agreed that Biggest Kid can bring a pal. So there's me, and four kids, off on an adventure. Why is it that this doesn't faze me in the least, but I can barely bring myself to go and post a letter? The big things, the complicated things, the grand gestures, all seem eminently do-able. The minutiae of daily life on the other hand serve only to grind away at my confidence. Bah. Perhaps it's just the rain. Perhaps if the sun would just make an appearance occasionally I'd feel better. Nobody feels good with perma-soaked trouser hems.

More new beginnings

The Man I Married has a new job. I've known that this was in the offing for a while now, but it has been one of those hush-hush, don't tell the troops, TOP SECRET with a code name affairs because the company he used to work for was being sold and until the various lawyers had done bickering and offering and counter-offering and tying things up in scarlett ribbon and hacking away at contracts and reveiws, and legalese and all the rest of it, nobody was allowed to say a word. The last dot on the last "i" was placed late Thursday night and announcements made in press releases to global but limited-interest publications to much hooraying all round.

So we've celebrated with some champagne and the purchase of a new family car, but really it's pretty much business as usual. The Man I Married will still be working a silly number of hours each week, if not more stupid than before, there will still be three kidlets to supervise, love, feed, discipline, clothe and ferry around and Mother will still be driving me nuts. Plus ca change and all that.

Diet wise, my good friend Harridan's plan for a 40 Day Challenge has been a huge success. Not because I've succeeded in sticking to it exactly, although I haven't veered totally off course, but because it gave me the impetus and structure that a lazy-arsed person like me needs. I do much better when I have something to strive for, and being a competitive soul, I like the idea of a challenge, even if it's only really with myself!! Competitive but lazy - how's that for messed up?!