Scratching the surface.

I itch. Pretty much everywhere, and mainly at night. I've convinced myself that I have scabies even though the rash looks nothing like what Google Images throws up. The rash just looks like I've scratched myself to bits. Which I have. The doc gave me piriton and aqueous cream with calamine. Close, but no cigar...still itching.

A friend I've never met because she's one of those cyber buddies we all have these days, suggested that perhaps it could be a food allergy - most likely culprits being wheat or dairy. I don't eat all that much diary anyway; the taste/texture of milk makes me heave and as much as I love cheese it's generally better not to have it in the house because it seems to induce a severe lack of self control whenever I'm in the vicinity of the fridge. I've somehow managed to produce three cheese-indifferent children so it's not even as if I can share it. I'm forced to eat it all by myself. It's a trial.

Last week I decided to cut dairy out completely. I'd been using soya milk for cooking purposes (porridge mainly) but learned to love it (okay, that's a slight exaggeration) made with water. It's weird. I've always preferred my porridge to be creamy and sweet, but if I concentrate hard and think of savoury breakfasts like bacon and hash browns, I can take the porridge watery and salty without wanting to hurl it against the wall where it would no doubt act as a very successful binding agent between wall and paper should I ever run out of wallpaper paste proper. I do sometimes wonder if the reason porridge is on so many diets is because actually it glues up your stomach lining and prevents the absorption of anything else.

Anyway, a week of no dairy products whatsoever had no effect whatsoever. I'm still squirming and trying not to resort to running a bristle hairbrush up and down my legs of an evening. So this week I thought I'd try cutting out wheat. This is a bit more of a challenge because when I looked through my food diary, there were rather a lot of wheat-based items throughout; wholemeal bread, pitta bread, pasta, flour tortillas and so on. And the kids eat a lot of it too; crumpets, hot cross buns, fruit loaf are all staples in our house.

I know I could prepare meals with couscous, rye, lentils, chickpeas and so on to fill me up without resorting to bread but on the first day, knowing that I was going to be eating leftover salad for lunch, I really just wanted some bread to go with it. So I invested in (and trust me, at that price it was definitely an investment) some wheat, milk and gluten free bread. I had previously heard horror stories about these products, but hey, that was years ago and I reckoned things must have improved by now. Especially at that price. How bad could it be?

So anyway, it seems like lentils and couscous could be the way ahead here. "Bread" made from potato, rice and shavings of owl pellets is not nice. It's very dry for a start and falls apart in your fingers. Then when you put it into your mouth it seems to expand and you can't actually swallow it straight away. The trouble is, as it becomes mixed with the saliva in your mouth it takes on the texture of slightly softened grit and when you do eventually spit it out the whole inside of your mouth feels...I don't know. The only word I can think of to describe this feeling is "cacky". I won't be buying anymore. As I said to Mother, if this is the best that the wheat-free world has to offer, I'll just scratch.

Starting weight: 14 Stone 11 lbs
Current weight: 11 Stone 13 lbs
Total Lost: 2 Stone 12lbs
This Week: -1lb

Today I'm wearing:

Adsa dark blue straight jeans, size 14, too big.
M&S sea green and white top, 3/4 length sleeves, size 14
Asda dark sea blue floppy cardigan size 14
Black knee length boots

I can see four grey hairs. More if I change my parting. They must go!

New Year, New Start.

I have a horrid feeling that I might be repeating myself! Oh, the humour, it's killing me! Seriously though, I'll have to go back and check my previous posts because that title is certainly ringing bells. But then, it is a new year and I am starting again. Again. On the plus side, I'm starting from a better place than I have done previously.

Before Christmas 2009 I had succesfully dieted my way down to 11 stone 10lbs. I was feeling very pleased with myself, but I knew that I was going to struggle to maintain this over the festive period so I pretty much gave myself permission to take time out of my diet. We had a lot of "social engagements" (that'd be piss ups then) on the calendar and I wanted to eat my Christmas dinner without writing every mouthful down in a jotter, or leaping up mid-sip to update the Tesco Diet site. Consequently I am returning to my blog four pounds heavier than I was at the beginning of advent, weighing 12 stone exactly. I'm trying to see the positive side of this. It's a nice neat figure to start the year with. I can see from this that I'd like to lose exactly 2 of those stones to make an even neater number of 10. This isn't so bad. I can do this.

Trouble is of course, that I'm now struggling to get back into the swing of things. I seem to have temporarily mislaid my dieting mojo. And I keep finding tins and tubs of mince pies, cake, chocolate log, chocolate oranges and cheese where there really ought to be nought but celery. That and I am sure the wine bottles have been breeding.

Anyway, today I think I might have managed to get that grip that was so desperately needed. I've eaten meals instead of snacks, consumed more water and as there is no wine open that needs finishing off, there's none that I feel inclined to drink. Could this be the start of great things to come?

Today I ate:

1 bowl porridge made with water and salt.
1 banana.

1 hard boiled egg
1 wholemeal bread roll
1 slim-a-soup thing

1 onion baguette
Roast ham
Mixed salad leaves
Homemade coleslaw
Tomatoes
Cucumber
Beetroot

More black coffee than is strictly good for me.
4 pints water.

Exercise was limited due to being in hospital all day (no, nothing drastic...Kid At the Bottom of the Heap "failed" her last few eye tests and they wanted to hook her up and figure her out. If they manage that they'll be doing better than me LOL)


Today I'm wearing:

Dark brown vest top size 14
Pale pink cardigan size 16 (it's too big now but I still like it)
A-line purple cord flowery skirt (sale bargain from Sainsbugs!) size 14
Dark brown knee high boots
Pink and purple necklace/earrings combo (also Sainsbury's finest)

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.