My Story ~ Part I

Part I

To my wonderful family and friends. If any of you ever intentionally or unintentionally read this, no offence is meant by anything I say about you lovely people 🙂

I decided to write about my dieting life. Sorry, that should actually read, my life change in eating habits. The word ‘diet’ is programmed into my head and no matter how many fancy words are given to a weight loss programme it’s still a diet. You need to diet to lose weight. Very matter of fact, but it is a fact. So whenever I use the word ‘diet’ I really do mean ‘healthy eating plan’ but that’s far too many words to type and I value the tips of my fingers.

Oh, by the way, I may just slip into internet speak here by mistake. Years of typing online in forums and the like mean that you very often type things and abbreviatons without thinking, and I do LOL a lot (laugh out loud for those that don’t know). I can’t help it, it’s my way of letting you know that I thought something is or was funny, so bear with me and excuse the LOL’ing.

You will also need to excuse my waffling. I waffle on quite a lot, sometimes I ramble, sometimes I just go on for the sake of it, but I write as I think. This will give you an insight into how my brain works.. or doesn’t as the case may be. It flits off from one thing to another. I think my brain is actually powered by butterflies that flit from floral brain cell to floral brain cell. You get the idea?

Oh, and my ramblings may spill over into life ramblings aswell as the diet, because lets face it, the two go hand in hand.

So… me? Fat, Fortynine and Fed Up!

Basically, I’m a fat, 49 year old housewife. Married for for 14 years, lived together for 17. I have two older kids, 32 and 27. The 32 year old is off living her life and is no longer dependent on Mummy and has a little boy of her own. 27 year old is moving in with his girlfriend and her little boy next month. And then there is my 12 year old. A sometimes frustrating bundle of love, laughter and fury,  who can be very hard to understand at times due to him having Aspergers.  Hubby is an intelligent nutcase. [meant in the most affectionate way]. He works hard and plays hard. A complete motorbike nut, I come down the list of his priorities, behind himself and however many motorbikes he has in the garage at the time. But I’m ok with that, I’m used to it, and at the end of the day, he sleeps with me. Although I’m damned sure that if the garage had a non-leaking roof and heating, he’d sleep with his bikes!

I have had a weight problem since my teens. Well, at school I was a size 14. Not too bad I suppose, but even then, I was ’rounded’. It didn’t stay like that for long because at 16 (although on the pill) I got pregnant! I am doomed for all eternity to have a huge weight problem from this point in life onwards.

I put weight on after I’ve had a baby. Now there’s a problem solved! Don’t have any more babies… LOL At 49 years old, there’s no way I’m having anymore babies thank you very much. Again this comes back to the good old female hormones! I have produced baby, I will now nurture baby, I no longer need to reproduce, so I no longer need to look attractive to caveman in the house, and voila.. I let myself go. Baby gets to 2 or 3 years old, hormones kick back in ready to reproduce again, brain says.. omg you fat cow, do something to be attractive to caveman again, and out come the diet books. The circle of life? Not this time! This is going to be the rest of my life, which doesn’t include more babies unless they are grandchildren. I am determined to get to a comfortable weight, where I look good in the clothes I want to wear not the clothes I have to wear because they fit (sort of) and then I will tackle the head demons and control the urge to binge.

I will try to give you a brief history of time.

16 years old, 6 weeks before I was 17 I had a baby girl. I was now 6 stone overweight. In a bad relationship and a new baby, living in a council house. I was now in total control of what meals I had and when. I really can’t remember that far back as to how I ate.

I remember starting Slimming World and losing some weight, probably about 4 stone. I was probably about 19 or 20 at the time. I’d ignored my weight up until that point. One afternoon I was cutting the hedge at the front of my house when someone I hadn’t seen for a while walked past. He said, wow you’ve lost some weight. You’re quite little inside really aren’t you? It made me stop and think as he went on his merry way. I was pleased that my weight loss had been noticed but on the other hand, it made me realise that I don’t actually ‘see’ my body. I’m still the same way today as I type this! I was asked this morning (current weight loss of 3 stone) if I could really tell that I’d lost 3 stone. My reply was instantly, no. My clothes are getting too big, yet I can’t physically see a difference, apart from my face is slimmer. All I can see are the lumps and bumps that I despise!

Skipping forwards a few years, at 21 I was pregnant with my son. A bouncing 8lbs 7oz baby boy was born. Of course, the ‘baby weight’ didn’t fall off and I just got bigger and bigger. I tried every stupid diet under the sun. Too many to even name. I ended back at Slimming World. Now living miles away from any of my family, I had to go it alone to class. I weighed in at a whopping 21 stone 7 lbs!! How the hell did I get that big? I can’t remember getting that huge, it just sort of landed one day. Well I guess it didn’t, I just noticed one day that I was huge and I was running out of options for clothes. I was wearing those absolutely hideous floral elasticated waist skirts and size 32 t-shirts. I paid no attention to my appearance. I was busy being a mum.

The weight loss journey had begun. I managed to lose a total of 9 stone in 11 months. Now that is pretty good going if I say so myself. During that time, I met Mark. I was probably about 17 stone at the time, but we’d met on the internet and got to know each other without the pre-judgemental visual imagery. He wanted to meet up. I was so worried about him seeing me. All he’d seen was a head and shoulders shot. Well when you’re fat you don’t have photographs taken, much less ones of anything below the shoulder line. We’d been talking on the phone for a good few weeks when he said he was coming down to visit. OMG! I was going to die!

But we met, he accepted me as I was because he knew me personally and really liked ‘me’ and he knew I had a weight problem but also knew I was doing something about it. We met several times as friends and enjoyed each other’s company. It was another year or so before we actually got togther as a couple. I got down to around 12 and a half stone. At this point everyone I knew started the age old tradition of, oh don’t go losing anymore weight. You’ve lost so much. Your face is getting too thin and drawn.. blah blah blah. It’s not long before you are brainwashed into thinking that they’re right. Also, being happy in a relationship and being able to buy clothes from a ‘normal’ shop makes you complacent.

Another fast forward and at 36 years old, I am pregnant for a third time. A little bit unexpected but nevertheless, I’m happy about it. We’d been married a couple of years by this point and although I’d had a lovely wedding dress, I was a bit too big for it and felt extremely uncomfortable! I didn’t feel like the blushing bride at all! So, the birth of the baby and another session of nurturing and no need to be attractive to the caveman meant more pounds on. All of a sudden (well it seemed like it to me) I was huge again.  I was beginning to notice that Mark was getting less and less interested in me. A lot of the things we’d shared as a couple were no longer viable because a) I had a baby to look after and b) I was just too damned fat! There was no way I’d get on the back of his motorbikes anymore and he now felt neglected. We didn’t share anything anymore.

By now, I was so grotesque that I just wanted to go and hide in a hole and let the world pass by me. I had been suffering with a medical condition called Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I was diagnosed with this whilst I was at my slimmer end of the spectrum, but as I got bigger and bigger, I began to suffer from it more and more. I could barely walk anywhere without my back/knees/hips giving up on me. I saw the doctor on and off over a few months for various reasons and then one time I had to see the Dr I don’t really get along with. Probably because he is so straight talking. But he’s one of those doctors that no matter what you go in to see him about always refers to your weight. I could go in and say, I’ve got a sore throat and he’d start banging on about my weight.

I’d had to go in about my back problems and I knew that he’d mention my weight, so I braced myself. This time, for some reason, he was really nice. He didn’t come at me with ‘get some weight off’ in his usual aggressive manner. He said “you are a very attractive, young woman”. woah, talk about flattery getting you anywhere LOL. He continued and said that my problems would be worse with the weight, with no disrespect, it’s like carrying 10 suitcases around with me at all times. He said, “you are only 40, you have 10 years to lose the weight or you are going to be stuck with it forever, it’s extremely hard to lose weight once you hit 50”. He gave me painkillers and I went off on my merry ‘I had the fat talk from the doctor’ way.

I happily ignored my weight for another 9 years until a friend was very honest with me. She made me cry. Not on purpose, but because she was absolutely right with her very truthful words. Shortly after that I had an argument with my hubby and it all came to a head. I needed to lose weight or I’d lose the people that mattered to me most.

I decided slimming world was going to be the way to go. I found a class on a Thursday morning and I decided to go that week.

Heart palpitations, hot sweats, panic attack! That’s all before I got out of the car. One foot in front of the other, just get through the door. It’s only a door. Yes but those big scary scales are through that door. They don’t like me, they make huge numbers up just to upset me. There are people in there, loads of skinny people because they’ve all be doing the diet. They’re all going to watch me waddle in, they’ll all laugh at me because I’m fat and they’re not anymore, or even worse, they’re all going to go awwww in sympathy because I’m the fat chick and they feel sorry for me… arghhhh help!  Ok, so that was that horrid little tormenting voice in my head trying to talk me out of my decision. That horrid little voice that says go to the shop and buy chocolate and biscuits and eat them ALL till you feel sick, then have some more because there’s a couple left in the packet. If you leave two in the packet everyone will know that you’ve eaten the rest of them to yourself. OK, gag the voice! and walk through the door.

Mask on… smile brightly because I’m a very happy person and act your way into this class. I should get an Oscar for my acting happy and confident roles I often play.

OMG! everyone is chatting to each other discussing their losses. They know each other. I’m the new girl.. don’t forget to sit at the back of the class. Arghhh even worse, there’s a face I know! Someone knows me! Look straight ahead, look straight ahead.. oh no, don’t. The scales are that way! arghhhh get me out of here, I’ve made a mistake. Too late, the consultant is coming, but she has a nice big smile, she looks friendly enough … hello! It’s done. I’ve committed myself. No bolting out of the door now. OK, lets get on with this.

I tell the consultant that I’ve done the plan before and that I lost weight on it.  I didn’t tell her how much I’d lost before, I didn’t want her to know how badly I’d slipped into old bad eating habits and put it back on again. Quick talk through the plan as it’s not changed much, and then the walk down death row to the scales. More cheery faces and smiley people, I get on the scales. OK, so it’s bad.. it’s really bad. It’s way worse than I thought. No wonder my own scales wouldn’t register a weight. i was too heavy for them. My god! Ok, that’s done. I’m off the scales and finding a seat so that I can breathe again and contemplate just how badly I’ve abused my body to get back to this point. I am so ashamed of myself. Why couldn’t I show a bit of self control? Why did I have to pig out and get so fat again? Do I like being fat? No, absolutely NOT! Then why do I do it to myself?

The odd thing is, that I’ve always cared about my appearance. I’ve always done my hair and makeup. I’ve always made sure my clothes were ‘nice’, even at the larger end of the scale, well until I could only get in what was available. So why, if I care about my appearance so much have I let myself get so fat? Is it wrapping a blanket around my insecurities? Am I climbing into a cocoon? and if so, why? What am I trying to protect myself from? And why am I so insecure? I wonder if the outer-casing, strangely, gives me confidence to be who I am. Everyone has always said what a bubbly, happy go lucky person I am. I’m always laughing and smiling. In fact, I started a sign language course a few years ago and we all had ’signed’ names. The course instructor gave me the sign name of smiler.  So why do I abuse myself so much by over-eating and getting so fat?

I am looking for excuses and I’m sure I could sit here and pull 101 excuses out from an over-bearing and controlling mother, to being thrown into growing up at 16, having a baby and having to head out into the world alone. But in reality, they are just excuses. At the end of the day, I’m fat because I eat too much of the wrong things. I seem to have a switch off mechanism so that I don’t even realise I’m eating things. Not now, obviously since I started on the ‘new me’ journey, but prior to that, I would get a packet of biscuits out of the cupboard (not just a couple of biscuits!) and I’d enjoy the first two, then before I knew it and without even realising it I’d gone through the whole packet. Why? I didn’t enjoy them because I didn’t even notice I was eating them. So it wasn’t for comfort because if you don’t realise you’re eating something it’s not going to be comforting is it? The upshot of it all is I’m just greedy! Why have a twix when you can get a king size twix? Why have one king size twix when you can have two? because you know you like them, even though you don’t notice you’re eating the second one. You can’t leave it sat in the packet. And even if you’ve eaten three of the twix sticks, you can’t leave the fourth one in the packet all alone now can you? Well actually.. yes you can! And this is what I have to learn. I can have the things I want, but I have to get a grip and eat them in moderation, not pig out on the whole lot because it’s there.

One of the worst things I find I do is I will binge when I’m alone. I’d rather people didn’t see me eat (alarms ringing for an eating disorder there or what?). I hate people seeing me eat. Does this come from being self conscious of what people think when they see a fat person eat? The ‘look at that fat cow stuffing her face even more? No wonder she’s so fat!’ I don’t know, but I never let anyone see me eat more than 2 biscuits, not even my hubby. But I’d go back into the kitchen and eat 3 or 4 more without him seeing. How stupid is that? Just greedy! There is absolutely no need for it. oink oink!

So, no more binging. I don’t have to feel guilty if I buy a twix (not kingsize!) because eating a twix is fine, it’s the three that follow it that becomes the problem.

No more excuses for myself, acceptance is the next step.

The class is lovely and friendly, everyone has a good laugh and I don’t actually feel like the new girl and the members in the class are such fun they involve me from the start. I know I’ve made the right decision in coming and I now feel very positive. Ok so I’m the biggest in the class, but I won’t be for long, and the one thing that makes me smile to myself is that when I get on the scales, I’ll never see that huge number ever again!

I wake up the next morning and thing Ok, ready to start the day. Once again it is 7am. Coffee.. my first thought is always coffee. My second thought on this particular morning is OMG, I’m on a diet! Shock and panic attack me at once. Oh no, I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Such a negative feeling. I was so positive yesterday, I was actually looking forward to starting the diet and getting the weight off. But now, reality hits. I’m on a diet, that means I can’t pig out on several twix’s, chocolate penguins, packets of biscuits.. or whatever. I’m not even down the stairs yet and the flood gates of negativity have opened.

So I get downstairs and make coffee and try to turn my head around. I pick up my nice shiny new, uncreased slimming books and start to read. Stop thinking about what you can’t have and find out what you can have.

So, head cleared, I weigh my Bran Flakes out, measure my milk allowance and have breakfast. Remember you’re on a diet! This mantra keeps cropping up throughout the day, in fact, the entire first week. So now, I can’t stop thinking about food. What I can have, what I can’t have, what I want to have. Remember you’re on a diet. Ok, breakfast gone, what’s next? More coffee. Remember you’re on a diet. I get through the day quite easily food wise, it’s just my head that’s having trouble accepting it. So many times I’d go to the cupboard and think oh, I’ll have .. whatever.. oh no, remember you’re on a diet!! I’m not actually hungry, it’s habit. Why do we get into the habit of having a ‘treat’ with our coffee or a ‘treat’ after lunch, after dinner, for supper. it’s a case of re-train the brain. You don’t need to treat yourself with food, well certainly not high sugar, high carb quick kick foods. They don’t satisfy you at all apart from the quick.. oooh I feel great, after eating it. That doesn’t last long. And so the brain re-training goes on all week.

The biggest problem wasn’t sticking to the plan, it was remembering that I was on the diet. Every morning for the first week I went through the same mental process, wake up, remember I’m on a diet, think about what I can’t have, then convince myself that it’s ok, you can have plenty!

My hubby was in his element during that week with the meals provided each night. Plenty of meat and veg and a good variety. No processed foods, all fresh meat. He said that if this was me being on a diet he was going to force me to stick to it LOL.

And so the week rolls back around to Tuesday. Weigh in day! The day of reckoning. 10.00 is weigh in time and it’s 8am. I’ve had one coffee but I’m not going to have anymore. No breakfast either, not before I get weighed. How stupid is that really? So hungry and thirsty, I head off to class. Nervous, scared, worried… omg what if I’ve put weight on? Will I be the only person in the world to put weight on during the first week of a diet?

The same smiley, welcoming faces as last week. It’s my turn!! Tentatively, I step on the scales. BEEP!! That’s the scales settling on what I weigh this week. 6 pounds off. Well done and a big smile from the lady who does the weighing. I smile and say thank you and head off to grab a coffee to quench my thirst. Now I’m weighed I can drink again. (silly girl). I find myself a seat and the girl next to me asks how I did. 6 off I tell her. She smiles and says that’s great.  We have a good laugh and end up feeling nice and positive for the week ahead.

So, back home again. Now.. the BIG question to myself. Do I have a little treat? If I do that, it will end up in a big treat. I talk to myself for a while, banish the good angel, bad angel sitting on my shoulders and decide to stay on the plan and not have a ‘naughty’. I can’t doom myself to failure at the end of the first week. This is supposed to be a healthy eating plan for life, so get used to it. Have your treats but count them into your allowance! For god’s sake, get a grip!

I considered myself told off and made a nice bacon omelette for dinner and planned week 2.

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  1. December 29, 2017 at 9:49 pm

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