FAT CLUB & FAIRY CAKES...
FAT CLUB AND FAIRY CAKES
Meet Jessie James, she's a thirty something mother, wife, friend, co-worker and professional dieter.
You name the diet, she's done it BUT she likes to have her cake and eat it (as well as biscuits, chocolate and anything else naughty.)
This time she's determined to beat the scales once and for all and she's taking us along for the ups and downs of her fight to let the slim women inside out.
She's you, she's me, she's every women who stood on the scales and thought "These scales are so out!" She's every woman who has ever embarked on a diet...just like Jessie James!
Follow Jessie on her weekly series of fat club and fairy cakes...
You name the diet, she's done it BUT she likes to have her cake and eat it (as well as biscuits, chocolate and anything else naughty.)
This time she's determined to beat the scales once and for all and she's taking us along for the ups and downs of her fight to let the slim women inside out.
She's you, she's me, she's every women who stood on the scales and thought "These scales are so out!" She's every woman who has ever embarked on a diet...just like Jessie James!
Follow Jessie on her weekly series of fat club and fairy cakes...
FAT CLUB AND FAIRY CAKES:
"It's funny, it's honest, it's emotional" Claire Foster - Slimming World Consultant
"One minute I was laughing with her, the next I wanted to hug her." Jules Bradley
"OMG, she's me!" - Slimming world member.
Want to know what all the fuss is about? THEN READ ON>>>>
"It's funny, it's honest, it's emotional" Claire Foster - Slimming World Consultant
"One minute I was laughing with her, the next I wanted to hug her." Jules Bradley
"OMG, she's me!" - Slimming world member.
Want to know what all the fuss is about? THEN READ ON>>>>
Episode One:- The Rude Awakening
Ok, so today I’m biting the bullet...after years of yo-yo dieting I finally feel like my head is in the right place to join the dreaded ‘fat club’ again. Not many women get to their thirties without doing some kind’ve diet (and if they have they’re not the kind’ve women I should be friends with anyway!) So, yep, here I am about to embark on my next ‘weight loss journey’. I’ve done them all....counting points, counting calories, having a delicious nutritious shake for breakfast, one for lunch and a balanced healthy meal for tea, I’ve drunk five litres of water a day and only eaten soup, I’ve only eaten meat, I’ve left out carbs, I’ve had red days, green days but mostly blue days whenever I’ve been dieting. Of all the above diets Slimming World (Red/Green days) worked best for me. So that’s the route I’ve decided to go down again. So, I hear you ask, what bought me to this monumental decision that I was ready to face the scales again?? (Apart from the button of my jeans popping obviously!!) Two events happened on the same night that made me kick ‘diet denials’ butt...
I was going to a friends’ housewarming party, it was Saturday night – smack bang in the middle of the last series of X Factor, so I hadn’t been out on a Saturday night for a while. So the first dilemma was what to wear. A quick inspection (Or rather frantically throwing clothes out of my wardrobe onto the bed into two separate piles of ‘fits’ and ‘doesn’t fit’) left me with a lack of options...my comfy jeans or my PJ bottoms. The jeans it was then, I pulled them on – don’t you just hate it when you dry them in the tumbler and it makes them shrink? So after I’d squeezed my lardy arse into the shrunken jeans, I breathed in as I tried to fasten them. Once fastened I tried to tuck the extra layer of fat (known as the cake shelf) under the waist band of my jeans. Ok, so I wouldn’t be able to sit down, but it was a house party, I’d be propping up a kitchen unit (and trying not to break it). Bottom half was done, now I just needed a top. This was just as depressing. I couldn’t choose a top that sat on my waistband as it made my cake shelf look like the head office of Greggs and I also ran the risk of the top sliding up and exposing said cake shelf resulting in a horrendous wardrobe malfunction. Jumpers didn’t say ‘gal about town’ so I settled for a tunic that was down to my knees hoping it would hide a multitude of sins. Clothes on, just needed to put my boots on...damn, that would require me to bend down...deep breath in and undo jeans.
Hubby and I tootled off to the party, I was really looking forward to it, just wish I didn’t look like the size of the house we were ‘warming’. Half way through the evening and after far too many profiteroles, the jeans were really digging in. Fortunately I could undo the button (again) and the tent like tunic would hide the open button. I needed to sit down anyway, these heels were killing me (I always wear heels, it makes me feel thinner!) I felt massive that night and the realisation that I was bursting out of the only pair of jeans that fit me made me feel sick.
But, there was an even worse feeling than that...my friend is the loveliest friend ever, she’s like Bridget Jones but funnier. Anyway, lots of photos were being taken, I was doing my best to be behind the camera, until she flung her arms around me and put her cheek next to mine ready for a photo. Even with my ‘standard issue photo pose’ – my head tilted to one side to minimise the chins the photo still looked bloody awful. Not of my lovely friend of course, she’s lovely, but of me. The advantages of modern technology and digital cameras are that you can delete the image before you’ve wasted money getting it processed. So my thumb immediately hit the delete button.
“I can’t believe you’ve just done that.”
I looked up guilty to meet the eyes of my friend. “But, I look so fat.” “But it’s me and you, it’s a photo of friends.”
Not a lot I could say to that. I just felt truly ashamed and embarrassed.
As I lay in bed that night I, Jessie James made a decision, no more Mrs Fat Woman...I was off to fat club on Monday night and this time I meant it...
Ok, so today I’m biting the bullet...after years of yo-yo dieting I finally feel like my head is in the right place to join the dreaded ‘fat club’ again. Not many women get to their thirties without doing some kind’ve diet (and if they have they’re not the kind’ve women I should be friends with anyway!) So, yep, here I am about to embark on my next ‘weight loss journey’. I’ve done them all....counting points, counting calories, having a delicious nutritious shake for breakfast, one for lunch and a balanced healthy meal for tea, I’ve drunk five litres of water a day and only eaten soup, I’ve only eaten meat, I’ve left out carbs, I’ve had red days, green days but mostly blue days whenever I’ve been dieting. Of all the above diets Slimming World (Red/Green days) worked best for me. So that’s the route I’ve decided to go down again. So, I hear you ask, what bought me to this monumental decision that I was ready to face the scales again?? (Apart from the button of my jeans popping obviously!!) Two events happened on the same night that made me kick ‘diet denials’ butt...
I was going to a friends’ housewarming party, it was Saturday night – smack bang in the middle of the last series of X Factor, so I hadn’t been out on a Saturday night for a while. So the first dilemma was what to wear. A quick inspection (Or rather frantically throwing clothes out of my wardrobe onto the bed into two separate piles of ‘fits’ and ‘doesn’t fit’) left me with a lack of options...my comfy jeans or my PJ bottoms. The jeans it was then, I pulled them on – don’t you just hate it when you dry them in the tumbler and it makes them shrink? So after I’d squeezed my lardy arse into the shrunken jeans, I breathed in as I tried to fasten them. Once fastened I tried to tuck the extra layer of fat (known as the cake shelf) under the waist band of my jeans. Ok, so I wouldn’t be able to sit down, but it was a house party, I’d be propping up a kitchen unit (and trying not to break it). Bottom half was done, now I just needed a top. This was just as depressing. I couldn’t choose a top that sat on my waistband as it made my cake shelf look like the head office of Greggs and I also ran the risk of the top sliding up and exposing said cake shelf resulting in a horrendous wardrobe malfunction. Jumpers didn’t say ‘gal about town’ so I settled for a tunic that was down to my knees hoping it would hide a multitude of sins. Clothes on, just needed to put my boots on...damn, that would require me to bend down...deep breath in and undo jeans.
Hubby and I tootled off to the party, I was really looking forward to it, just wish I didn’t look like the size of the house we were ‘warming’. Half way through the evening and after far too many profiteroles, the jeans were really digging in. Fortunately I could undo the button (again) and the tent like tunic would hide the open button. I needed to sit down anyway, these heels were killing me (I always wear heels, it makes me feel thinner!) I felt massive that night and the realisation that I was bursting out of the only pair of jeans that fit me made me feel sick.
But, there was an even worse feeling than that...my friend is the loveliest friend ever, she’s like Bridget Jones but funnier. Anyway, lots of photos were being taken, I was doing my best to be behind the camera, until she flung her arms around me and put her cheek next to mine ready for a photo. Even with my ‘standard issue photo pose’ – my head tilted to one side to minimise the chins the photo still looked bloody awful. Not of my lovely friend of course, she’s lovely, but of me. The advantages of modern technology and digital cameras are that you can delete the image before you’ve wasted money getting it processed. So my thumb immediately hit the delete button.
“I can’t believe you’ve just done that.”
I looked up guilty to meet the eyes of my friend. “But, I look so fat.” “But it’s me and you, it’s a photo of friends.”
Not a lot I could say to that. I just felt truly ashamed and embarrassed.
As I lay in bed that night I, Jessie James made a decision, no more Mrs Fat Woman...I was off to fat club on Monday night and this time I meant it...
EPISODE 2:- Emptying the crap out of the cupboards: that first step.
Today’s the big day... back to fat club. As I’m writing this I’m finishing off a bag of Haribo (the sour ones, they’re my fave) Well, I can’t just chuck them away, it’d be a waste of money and in this ‘current economic climate’ it’d be criminal to throw food out. Best finish off those last few Bourbon’s in the biscuit tin too (I love them) It would not occur to me to put them in the actual bin, as far as I’m concerned I am the bin.
I am slightly nervous – no, I’m VERY nervous about tonight. Walking into a fat club (on your own) is quite daunting. Will I be the biggest there? Will I break the scales? Will I burst into tears when I see the final figure? I have a rough idea what I weigh, the last time I weighed myself the scales were broken, well they must’ve been, the number was at least a stone heavier than I was expecting...definitely broken!
So I walked into class and nervously looked around, hoping I didn’t see anyone I knew, nothing worse than breaking down in front of someone you know – almost as bad as breaking down in front of a group of strangers. It was a lose, lose situation. I should’ve just high tailed it out of there, leg it home and pull on my baggiest jumper and live in it for the next twenty years. But the memory of the look of disappointment on my friends face when I deleted the photo was enough to keep me there. I wasn’t about to give up at the first hurdle. I was going to get on those scales and I damn well wasn’t going to cry.
The friendly consultant (and she was friendly, she wasn’t like Marjory from fat fighters ‘ooh you’re a big girl aren’t you?” “Dust, dust, dust.”) welcomed me into group and went over the plan with me. I could do this, I really could. I felt quite optimistic...then it was time to get on the scales...I’d purposely chosen my lightest clothes, black leggings and yet another long tunic. Should I take off my glasses? They must weigh at least half a pound and what about my hair clip? Best go for a wee, who knows how much a full bladder adds to the scales? What about those butterflies in my tummy? Bet they weigh at least a stone each. These were the thoughts running through my head as the queue got smaller and I got nearer to the MOT (Moment Of Truth). The sign by the scales said remove excess baggage, the glasses and hair clip were definitely coming off...what else could I take off? Ear rings and watch. Note to self, don’t wear knickers next week, no one will know I haven’t got them on, it could make all the difference. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I handed my card over, the scales beeped, this was it...I stood on the scales. I didn’t dare to breathe out (It could affect the outcome), I didn’t move a muscle (It could result in an adverse affect on the scales). I closed my eyes, when it beeped again I slowly opened my eyes again...
Holy crap, those scales must be broken too. I sat down amongst the group in sheer shock. I then texted my friend
OMG, I’ve NEVER been this lardy :O(
She texted me straight back... And you never will be again...:O)
Today’s the big day... back to fat club. As I’m writing this I’m finishing off a bag of Haribo (the sour ones, they’re my fave) Well, I can’t just chuck them away, it’d be a waste of money and in this ‘current economic climate’ it’d be criminal to throw food out. Best finish off those last few Bourbon’s in the biscuit tin too (I love them) It would not occur to me to put them in the actual bin, as far as I’m concerned I am the bin.
I am slightly nervous – no, I’m VERY nervous about tonight. Walking into a fat club (on your own) is quite daunting. Will I be the biggest there? Will I break the scales? Will I burst into tears when I see the final figure? I have a rough idea what I weigh, the last time I weighed myself the scales were broken, well they must’ve been, the number was at least a stone heavier than I was expecting...definitely broken!
So I walked into class and nervously looked around, hoping I didn’t see anyone I knew, nothing worse than breaking down in front of someone you know – almost as bad as breaking down in front of a group of strangers. It was a lose, lose situation. I should’ve just high tailed it out of there, leg it home and pull on my baggiest jumper and live in it for the next twenty years. But the memory of the look of disappointment on my friends face when I deleted the photo was enough to keep me there. I wasn’t about to give up at the first hurdle. I was going to get on those scales and I damn well wasn’t going to cry.
The friendly consultant (and she was friendly, she wasn’t like Marjory from fat fighters ‘ooh you’re a big girl aren’t you?” “Dust, dust, dust.”) welcomed me into group and went over the plan with me. I could do this, I really could. I felt quite optimistic...then it was time to get on the scales...I’d purposely chosen my lightest clothes, black leggings and yet another long tunic. Should I take off my glasses? They must weigh at least half a pound and what about my hair clip? Best go for a wee, who knows how much a full bladder adds to the scales? What about those butterflies in my tummy? Bet they weigh at least a stone each. These were the thoughts running through my head as the queue got smaller and I got nearer to the MOT (Moment Of Truth). The sign by the scales said remove excess baggage, the glasses and hair clip were definitely coming off...what else could I take off? Ear rings and watch. Note to self, don’t wear knickers next week, no one will know I haven’t got them on, it could make all the difference. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I handed my card over, the scales beeped, this was it...I stood on the scales. I didn’t dare to breathe out (It could affect the outcome), I didn’t move a muscle (It could result in an adverse affect on the scales). I closed my eyes, when it beeped again I slowly opened my eyes again...
Holy crap, those scales must be broken too. I sat down amongst the group in sheer shock. I then texted my friend
OMG, I’ve NEVER been this lardy :O(
She texted me straight back... And you never will be again...:O)
EPISODE THREE: BATTLE OF THE PROFITEROLES
I love food, I would describe it as a hobby...in fact I’d even go as far as to put it on my CV.
INTERESTS: Going out with friends, Reading and eating.
The problem when you love food as much as I do is you can’t just give it up, it’s not like smoking, you can’t go cold turkey - ooh don’t you just love cold turkey butties on Boxing day? See there I go again, always distracted by food. So if I’m going to be successful at this diet malarkey I need a plan of action. I have my food diary that I’m going to complete and that’s pretty much my plan – fool proof hey! Oh and there is one other crazy idea I’ve had that requires me to be a little bit brave...
I’ve got my hubby to take pictures of me in my underwear, not kinky pictures obviously, just ones to remind myself that:-
A. I don’t want to look like this ever again.
B. In a few months I can hopefully update these pictures and see a physical improvement.
I had my eyes shut when he took the photos, shame I couldn’t keep them shut when I looked at them...I looked like the Michelin Man or like someone had physically inflated me with a bike pump.
Well no more Mrs Fat woman...I’m hoping these pictures will keep me on the wagon and stop me falling at the first hurdle.
Talking about first hurdles...my first week has gone well, I’ve diligently filled out my food diary but as I stand in the queue to be weighed again my week flashes by quicker than a speeding bullet. I knew that I’d counted all my syns – well I had done till Saturday night when the posh ‘do’ we went to threw a spanner in the works BUT I’d purposely kept my syns low throughout the week to combat any damage. The meal wasn’t too bad, melon to start (speed food, so far so good). Turkey Roast dinner full of veg (and only one teeny tiny sausage wrapped in bacon...just couldn’t say no to that!). Then it went rapidly downhill, profiteroles and free re fills of wine, yep that wasn’t part of the plan still I did shake some serious booty on the dance floor surely that counts as body magic!
So as I’m almost at the front of the line my only barriers this week were the profiteroles and wine. (although I did shave my legs and under my arms last night so that should help!!) Had I done enough to show a loss on the scales?? (Feel like I should have some Dermot O’Leary X Factor style voice over in my head as I’m thinking this!!)
MOT...just like last week I close my eyes (no knickers again!) I hear the beep and....I’ve lost four pounds!!! Even better it takes me down into a lower number on the scales so already I feel a million times better.
Woohoo...bring it on!!!
I love food, I would describe it as a hobby...in fact I’d even go as far as to put it on my CV.
INTERESTS: Going out with friends, Reading and eating.
The problem when you love food as much as I do is you can’t just give it up, it’s not like smoking, you can’t go cold turkey - ooh don’t you just love cold turkey butties on Boxing day? See there I go again, always distracted by food. So if I’m going to be successful at this diet malarkey I need a plan of action. I have my food diary that I’m going to complete and that’s pretty much my plan – fool proof hey! Oh and there is one other crazy idea I’ve had that requires me to be a little bit brave...
I’ve got my hubby to take pictures of me in my underwear, not kinky pictures obviously, just ones to remind myself that:-
A. I don’t want to look like this ever again.
B. In a few months I can hopefully update these pictures and see a physical improvement.
I had my eyes shut when he took the photos, shame I couldn’t keep them shut when I looked at them...I looked like the Michelin Man or like someone had physically inflated me with a bike pump.
Well no more Mrs Fat woman...I’m hoping these pictures will keep me on the wagon and stop me falling at the first hurdle.
Talking about first hurdles...my first week has gone well, I’ve diligently filled out my food diary but as I stand in the queue to be weighed again my week flashes by quicker than a speeding bullet. I knew that I’d counted all my syns – well I had done till Saturday night when the posh ‘do’ we went to threw a spanner in the works BUT I’d purposely kept my syns low throughout the week to combat any damage. The meal wasn’t too bad, melon to start (speed food, so far so good). Turkey Roast dinner full of veg (and only one teeny tiny sausage wrapped in bacon...just couldn’t say no to that!). Then it went rapidly downhill, profiteroles and free re fills of wine, yep that wasn’t part of the plan still I did shake some serious booty on the dance floor surely that counts as body magic!
So as I’m almost at the front of the line my only barriers this week were the profiteroles and wine. (although I did shave my legs and under my arms last night so that should help!!) Had I done enough to show a loss on the scales?? (Feel like I should have some Dermot O’Leary X Factor style voice over in my head as I’m thinking this!!)
MOT...just like last week I close my eyes (no knickers again!) I hear the beep and....I’ve lost four pounds!!! Even better it takes me down into a lower number on the scales so already I feel a million times better.
Woohoo...bring it on!!!
EPISODE 4: VODKA AND WISPA BARS
It’s amazing how quickly my weekly weigh in comes around...here I am into my third week in my slimming group and I have to say other than getting on the scales I actually look forward to it. Everyone’s really friendly and it’s heartening to see that I’m not the only one stressing about my cake shelf...
I’m also not the only one who takes off as many clothes as possible before I get weighed. The woman in front of me tonight said she’d get naked if she could...not sure naked slimming groups would catch on! As I’m sitting in group waiting for the group leader to go through our weight losses this week I flick through the slimming magazine to get some hints for new recipes, I’m also listening in to other people’s conversations. The lady next to me was saying she’d been for a swim before weigh in, but blamed the fact that her hair was still wet for gaining a pound. The lady beside her commiserated and said she’d cooked loads of free food this week, but kept getting the ingredients wrong so she’d given the food to the dog. She’d put on two pound...the dog was looking thinner though!
Our leader, Sally, started the class and began individually chatting to us all about our week. The first lady she came to didn’t look very happy, she had her arms folded across her chest and she’d positioned her body away from the guy who was sitting next to her who had a smirk on his face.
“You’ve maintained this week June, you don’t look very happy about that.”
“Well, no I’m not. We went out on Saturday night and we agreed to drink vodka and diet coke to keep our syns low, but he,” June pointed a thumb at the guy next to her who I assumed was her husband. “He decides just to drink diet coke and not tell me...so I had far more syns than he had. I got my own back though. I did his roast potatoes in proper fat and not the low fat spray.” She giggled, hubby looked outraged.
“Well, despite the fat on the potatoes, you still lost a pound Nigel. Well done,” Sally congratulated him, but June’s face looked like thunder.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Sally said. “It might be help your weight loss if you support and help each other rather than sabotage yourselves.”
She had a point, I couldn’t imagine coming to fat club with my hubby...if he was losing more than me I’d be spiking his drinks with full fat coke and putting extra sugar in his tea.
Then it was my turn...
“Well done Jessie, another two pound off...that’s six altogether. I hope I’m giving you your half stone sticker next week.”
I just grinned, I felt great.
“How are you feeling? Are you enjoying it?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’m loving the recipes and it’s really easy to fit around the family. I even thought I spotted a cheek bone this morning.”
“Keep up the good work.”
I intended too...once I’d gone back home and had my celebratory wispa bar...
It’s amazing how quickly my weekly weigh in comes around...here I am into my third week in my slimming group and I have to say other than getting on the scales I actually look forward to it. Everyone’s really friendly and it’s heartening to see that I’m not the only one stressing about my cake shelf...
I’m also not the only one who takes off as many clothes as possible before I get weighed. The woman in front of me tonight said she’d get naked if she could...not sure naked slimming groups would catch on! As I’m sitting in group waiting for the group leader to go through our weight losses this week I flick through the slimming magazine to get some hints for new recipes, I’m also listening in to other people’s conversations. The lady next to me was saying she’d been for a swim before weigh in, but blamed the fact that her hair was still wet for gaining a pound. The lady beside her commiserated and said she’d cooked loads of free food this week, but kept getting the ingredients wrong so she’d given the food to the dog. She’d put on two pound...the dog was looking thinner though!
Our leader, Sally, started the class and began individually chatting to us all about our week. The first lady she came to didn’t look very happy, she had her arms folded across her chest and she’d positioned her body away from the guy who was sitting next to her who had a smirk on his face.
“You’ve maintained this week June, you don’t look very happy about that.”
“Well, no I’m not. We went out on Saturday night and we agreed to drink vodka and diet coke to keep our syns low, but he,” June pointed a thumb at the guy next to her who I assumed was her husband. “He decides just to drink diet coke and not tell me...so I had far more syns than he had. I got my own back though. I did his roast potatoes in proper fat and not the low fat spray.” She giggled, hubby looked outraged.
“Well, despite the fat on the potatoes, you still lost a pound Nigel. Well done,” Sally congratulated him, but June’s face looked like thunder.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Sally said. “It might be help your weight loss if you support and help each other rather than sabotage yourselves.”
She had a point, I couldn’t imagine coming to fat club with my hubby...if he was losing more than me I’d be spiking his drinks with full fat coke and putting extra sugar in his tea.
Then it was my turn...
“Well done Jessie, another two pound off...that’s six altogether. I hope I’m giving you your half stone sticker next week.”
I just grinned, I felt great.
“How are you feeling? Are you enjoying it?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’m loving the recipes and it’s really easy to fit around the family. I even thought I spotted a cheek bone this morning.”
“Keep up the good work.”
I intended too...once I’d gone back home and had my celebratory wispa bar...
EPISODE FIVE: NO PAIN...NO LOSS...BOOT CAMP!!!!
_
I seem to
have found myself a bit obsessed with diet programes at the mo, especially The
Biggest Loser (the American version cos it’s so over the top.) My favourite bit
is the weigh in. I find it bizarre how people can lose so much weight in one
week...they seem disappointed if they don’t lose double figures every week, one
girl was in tears at ‘only’ losing four pound...if I lost four pound every week
I’d be chuffed to bits.
So while I’m sitting curled up on my sofa watching these people on the telly drag themselves around a running track I feel a bit ashamed. Most of these people are a lot bigger than me and they can make the effort to exercise...ok so they have got a shouty marine type person yelling in the faces motivating phrases like “It’s mind over matter, you don’t mind it won’t matter” and “If you give up, the only person you’re giving up on is you.” That’s exactly what I need...someone to push me, motivate me and drag my lardy arse into shape. I was never gonna be able to do it on my own.
The exercising thought was still running through my mind the following day (does that count as exercise if my mind is racing??) and I was chatting to one of the other mums in the play ground whilst waiting to pick the girls up from school. She’d noticed that I looked slimmer and I made a joke about needing to go on the Biggest Loser to get fit. Her eyes lit up as she told me she had a great idea. Apparently her hubby was an ex marine and he loved projects...well, guess who just became his latest project?
So, my marine was going to take me running...ME???RUNNING?? the furthest I’ve ever run is for a bus and that wasn’t out of choice. There was no going back, I’d already agreed to this. My main concerns were, would I throw up? (I’d seen that happen on the Biggest Loser) Would I make a holy show of myself and cry? Even worse would I just pass out? Fortunately my marine wasn’t a shouty marine he was more encouraging and kept telling me I could do this. So after some warm up excerises we set off...I jogged to the end of his road, was it too late to back out?? I really didn’t want to look a wally. The next bit was downhill so gravity helped me to get to the bottom. It was pitch black so I couldn't see how far I was running, but that also meant I couldn't SEE where I was running, bit of a double edge sword there! Apparently, according to my marine, the prom near where I live is a 'perfect running track' and at nearly 3 kilometers round trip it was perfect for a beginner. If I wasn't so out of breath I'd question him...3k's, yeah jog on mate...oh hold on, it was me that had to jog on. How long would that take me? What if I needed a wee half way round? I didn't want to do a Paula Radcliffe!! I never ever thought I'd get round that track, every inch of me hurt, but I kept going, one foot in front of the other. It may have been a winters night but I was hotter than hot (and I don't mean that I looked great and super sporty in my running gear...I mean even my ear lobes were perspiring - obviously not sweating...ladies don't sweat!!)
I've never had that 'exercise' buzz thingy that people talk about but when I finally reached the finish line I felt totally elated. One, that it was over and two, I hadn't puked oh yeah and I, Jessie James had just RUN 3k's!!!!
I ached for two days after but the buzz still lasted, I felt so proud of myself and the plus side was...I didn't even want chocolate, the pain of my run was still so fresh in my head (and seeping through my body) that I didn't want to undo the good that I'd done. So when I got on the scales this week, having lost another two pound and achieving my half stone award I felt I was well and truly on my way...
So while I’m sitting curled up on my sofa watching these people on the telly drag themselves around a running track I feel a bit ashamed. Most of these people are a lot bigger than me and they can make the effort to exercise...ok so they have got a shouty marine type person yelling in the faces motivating phrases like “It’s mind over matter, you don’t mind it won’t matter” and “If you give up, the only person you’re giving up on is you.” That’s exactly what I need...someone to push me, motivate me and drag my lardy arse into shape. I was never gonna be able to do it on my own.
The exercising thought was still running through my mind the following day (does that count as exercise if my mind is racing??) and I was chatting to one of the other mums in the play ground whilst waiting to pick the girls up from school. She’d noticed that I looked slimmer and I made a joke about needing to go on the Biggest Loser to get fit. Her eyes lit up as she told me she had a great idea. Apparently her hubby was an ex marine and he loved projects...well, guess who just became his latest project?
So, my marine was going to take me running...ME???RUNNING?? the furthest I’ve ever run is for a bus and that wasn’t out of choice. There was no going back, I’d already agreed to this. My main concerns were, would I throw up? (I’d seen that happen on the Biggest Loser) Would I make a holy show of myself and cry? Even worse would I just pass out? Fortunately my marine wasn’t a shouty marine he was more encouraging and kept telling me I could do this. So after some warm up excerises we set off...I jogged to the end of his road, was it too late to back out?? I really didn’t want to look a wally. The next bit was downhill so gravity helped me to get to the bottom. It was pitch black so I couldn't see how far I was running, but that also meant I couldn't SEE where I was running, bit of a double edge sword there! Apparently, according to my marine, the prom near where I live is a 'perfect running track' and at nearly 3 kilometers round trip it was perfect for a beginner. If I wasn't so out of breath I'd question him...3k's, yeah jog on mate...oh hold on, it was me that had to jog on. How long would that take me? What if I needed a wee half way round? I didn't want to do a Paula Radcliffe!! I never ever thought I'd get round that track, every inch of me hurt, but I kept going, one foot in front of the other. It may have been a winters night but I was hotter than hot (and I don't mean that I looked great and super sporty in my running gear...I mean even my ear lobes were perspiring - obviously not sweating...ladies don't sweat!!)
I've never had that 'exercise' buzz thingy that people talk about but when I finally reached the finish line I felt totally elated. One, that it was over and two, I hadn't puked oh yeah and I, Jessie James had just RUN 3k's!!!!
I ached for two days after but the buzz still lasted, I felt so proud of myself and the plus side was...I didn't even want chocolate, the pain of my run was still so fresh in my head (and seeping through my body) that I didn't want to undo the good that I'd done. So when I got on the scales this week, having lost another two pound and achieving my half stone award I felt I was well and truly on my way...
EPISODE SIX: LET THEM EAT CAKE
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So I feel like I’m getting into this dieting lark and I’m actually moving my more than ample backside off the sofa and in the immortal words of the Why Don’t You Gang…. Why Don’t You Just Switch Off Your Tv Set And Go And Do Something Less Boring Instead? I’m still running, is it less boring than curling up on the sofa with a large bag of giant buttons and catching up on the latest episode of Glee? Probably not but here’s something I found out about running…and this comes as a big shock to me…I actually quite like it!!
I love running along the prom, with some good old rock tunes on and depending on the weather I’m either looking out over the Irish Sea with the sun bouncing off it, which makes me imagine I’m actually in California OR if there is a storm coming in I love watching the clouds gather and the wind whip up the sea. I can let my imagination totally run away with it’s self and in the mean time I forget that it’s actually me doing the proper running. I'm like Jessie 'Forrest Gump' James, 'I just kept on runnin''. That's not to say that I’m still not relived when It’s over but it’s a good feeling , like I’ve achieved something.
Anyway, I’m running away with myself here (ha, see what I did there!!) Cake is on my mind today (actually I’d rather it was in my tummy, but I’m ‘trying to be good’). We’re off out for tea tonight for a friends’ birthday and I know that’ll I’ll be able to make the right food choices for my meal, what worries me is the dessert. I’m just a girl who can’t say no…especially to cake. You see, you can judge a restaurant on two things…the toilets and it’s dessert menu! You know that thing that blokes do when they get the newspaper and the first thing they do is read the back first for the sports news? Well, that’s what I do with menus. I read the back first to see what the desserts are. If they haven’t got a cheesecake on there (double points if it’s New York Cheesecake), some kind’ve chocolate pudding or even and old skool apple pie with custard then I will not be frequenting their establishment again!
So, We’re sat in the restaurant (and can I just tell you that my gut bursting jeans now feel a lot more comfortable …they actually fit now as opposed to me bursting out of them. Still don’t feel great in them because that cake shelf is still very visible. 8 pounds feels a lot too me, but so far not many people have noticed I’ve lost weight ) everyone is glancing at the menu and chattering away. Me, I’m studying it so much they could quiz me at the end. Already I have a dilemma. New York Cheesecake or Chocolate Brownie? This is the worst option for me, it’s like trying to choose your favourite child. (obviously I love both my children the same…but I also love cheesecake and brownie’s the same too!) I can almost feel myself coming out in a cold sweat. I’m ’trying to be good’ but I just can’t ignore cake. I know my friends will all have a dessert and won’t even think twice about it. I can’t win. If I don’t have dessert, I’ll be really grumpy and feel like I’m denying myself a treat. If I do have a cake then I’ll feel guilty and dread my weekly weigh in. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t…
Standing in the queue for the scales I’m thinking about my decision to eat the cake. (I went for the cheesecake, just melted in my mouth, it was beautiful and it DID have some strawberries on the top, one of my five a day….sorry, I’m going off the subject again aren’t I?)
My intention was to eat the cake and then go for a run for some damage limitation, but then one of the girls had a friend round from school the following day, then the hubby was late home from work the following day and the only thing I ran out of was time. The Cheesecake is now weighing heavily on my mind, I just hope it doesn’t weigh so heavily on the scales and if the cheesecake wasn’t bad enough then mother nature dropped off her monthly gift this morning and my stomach feels like it’s swelled up like a beach ball. I am not in a good mood. I don’t want to even look at the numbers on the scales when I get on but when I hear the beep I automatically open my eyes and look down…oh pantS!
So I feel like I’m getting into this dieting lark and I’m actually moving my more than ample backside off the sofa and in the immortal words of the Why Don’t You Gang…. Why Don’t You Just Switch Off Your Tv Set And Go And Do Something Less Boring Instead? I’m still running, is it less boring than curling up on the sofa with a large bag of giant buttons and catching up on the latest episode of Glee? Probably not but here’s something I found out about running…and this comes as a big shock to me…I actually quite like it!!
I love running along the prom, with some good old rock tunes on and depending on the weather I’m either looking out over the Irish Sea with the sun bouncing off it, which makes me imagine I’m actually in California OR if there is a storm coming in I love watching the clouds gather and the wind whip up the sea. I can let my imagination totally run away with it’s self and in the mean time I forget that it’s actually me doing the proper running. I'm like Jessie 'Forrest Gump' James, 'I just kept on runnin''. That's not to say that I’m still not relived when It’s over but it’s a good feeling , like I’ve achieved something.
Anyway, I’m running away with myself here (ha, see what I did there!!) Cake is on my mind today (actually I’d rather it was in my tummy, but I’m ‘trying to be good’). We’re off out for tea tonight for a friends’ birthday and I know that’ll I’ll be able to make the right food choices for my meal, what worries me is the dessert. I’m just a girl who can’t say no…especially to cake. You see, you can judge a restaurant on two things…the toilets and it’s dessert menu! You know that thing that blokes do when they get the newspaper and the first thing they do is read the back first for the sports news? Well, that’s what I do with menus. I read the back first to see what the desserts are. If they haven’t got a cheesecake on there (double points if it’s New York Cheesecake), some kind’ve chocolate pudding or even and old skool apple pie with custard then I will not be frequenting their establishment again!
So, We’re sat in the restaurant (and can I just tell you that my gut bursting jeans now feel a lot more comfortable …they actually fit now as opposed to me bursting out of them. Still don’t feel great in them because that cake shelf is still very visible. 8 pounds feels a lot too me, but so far not many people have noticed I’ve lost weight ) everyone is glancing at the menu and chattering away. Me, I’m studying it so much they could quiz me at the end. Already I have a dilemma. New York Cheesecake or Chocolate Brownie? This is the worst option for me, it’s like trying to choose your favourite child. (obviously I love both my children the same…but I also love cheesecake and brownie’s the same too!) I can almost feel myself coming out in a cold sweat. I’m ’trying to be good’ but I just can’t ignore cake. I know my friends will all have a dessert and won’t even think twice about it. I can’t win. If I don’t have dessert, I’ll be really grumpy and feel like I’m denying myself a treat. If I do have a cake then I’ll feel guilty and dread my weekly weigh in. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t…
Standing in the queue for the scales I’m thinking about my decision to eat the cake. (I went for the cheesecake, just melted in my mouth, it was beautiful and it DID have some strawberries on the top, one of my five a day….sorry, I’m going off the subject again aren’t I?)
My intention was to eat the cake and then go for a run for some damage limitation, but then one of the girls had a friend round from school the following day, then the hubby was late home from work the following day and the only thing I ran out of was time. The Cheesecake is now weighing heavily on my mind, I just hope it doesn’t weigh so heavily on the scales and if the cheesecake wasn’t bad enough then mother nature dropped off her monthly gift this morning and my stomach feels like it’s swelled up like a beach ball. I am not in a good mood. I don’t want to even look at the numbers on the scales when I get on but when I hear the beep I automatically open my eyes and look down…oh pantS!
EPISODE SEVEN: FALLING OFF THE WAGON
Tommorow is another day...well that's what I tell myself as I climb into bed that night after my disappointment result on the scales. Ok, so it was only a pound on and as Peter Kay would say you can 'shit a pound' so I can't get too down hearted. I've still lost half a stone, but the truth of the matter is I am upset. My choice to eat the damn cheesecake is weighing heavily on my mind (and on the scales). I have zero will power, I have no 'pudding over ride button' but I am not ready to give up. I lie in bed reflecting on the first real hurdle of my weight loss journey.
The problem is I'm impatient, I have made the desicion to improve my health and get slim but now that I've made that desicion I want it over night, I want to wake up tomorrow morning slim. I'm totally forgetting that I didn't put weight on over night. I didn't go to bed one night and wake up looking like I'd spent all night scoffing a billion Mclarge meals ( I'm not even that much of a McDonalds fan, a happy meal would do me!) It took time and effort and a lot of cake to get this figure that I try and hide under over sized clothes. So where to go from here? I know if I don't continue with a positive outlook I am in danger of falling off the wagon and if that happens it'll be a no holds barred binge fest, chocolate, cakes, bourbons, haribos, whatever I can get my hands on. I won't be hungry when I eat it, it'll be pure comfort food...I sigh, I cannot go down that route again.
The hubby, who I thought was asleep turns over on his side and asks me what the big sigh was about. I tell him him the big sigh was too match my big belly. Now it's his turn to sign. he's heard it all before and it doesn't matter how many times he tells me he loves me for me it goes in one ear and out the other. I just want to feel confident about me and let the slim girl inside out...problem is I keep feeding her cake! So I need another plan of action to help me stay focused. I know I need to fill in my food diary and keep up my running and not eat cake, simples! Yeah right, if it was that simple I wouldn't be in this situation in the first flippin' place. I'm thinking allowed as I run through suggestions. Jaw wired up? The benefits would be two fold, I'd stop stuffing my face and wouldn't be able to talk so much. Hypnosis? Gastric band? (Worked well for Fern Britton, although think they're about £6,000 but think of the money I'd save on cake!) While I'm wittering away aimlessly to myself the hubby interrupts my randomness.
"Jessie, I have an idea."
Ooh this could be good, was he going to suggest selling a kidney to raise money for the afore mentioned gastric band? "Go on."
"I'll help you."
What? Was he volunteering to tape up my mouth? I frown in confusion. "How?"
He patted his six pack (as in six pack of Fosters). "Reckon I could do with losing a few pounds. "Well do it together. It'll be great.!"
I groan, yeah loads of fun...so, yeah, tomorrow's another day....
EPISODE EIGHT:- MR V's MRS
Woke up this morning to an empty bed, the kids were still asleep and the hubby was gone. I squinted at the alarm clock. 6.30am. Where was he? I started to panic as things ran through my mind...had he left me for the Angelina Jolie look a like down the road? Nah, he was more of a Jennifer Aniston fan. Had he left early to go to work? Hmm possibly. Was he ill and taken himself off to the walk-in centre and didn't
want to worry me? Nope, he's a bloke, if he needed to seek medical attention it would be on the front page of the local newspaper. Just as I was about to ring his mobile I heard the front door open and some very heavy breathing. Oh my God, we were being burgled by some heaving breathing baddie. Could I get to the kids in time and fling them in my bed? The heavy breathing was getting louder as the even heavier footsteps came up the stairs. I was paralyzed with fear, that was until my hubby, with a face as red as his Liverpool shirt came into the bedroom. "Where on earth have you been? You had me worried, then I thought we were being burgled."
He laughed. (He was used to my over active imagination, he said with an imagination like mine I should be a writer, now there's a thought....) "I've been for a jog."
"WHAT?"
He shrugged as he tried to get his breath back. "I said I'd help you with your diet."
"How is you going out for a run helping me with my diet?"
"Just thought we we're going to be healthy together."
I sighed, yep, I looked really healthy snuggled under my duvet while my hubby had been out running. I looked up, he'd disappeared again, I peered over the edge of the bed and found him on the floor doing press ups. I flopped back onto the bed. This was EXACTLY why I didn't want to do this together, not while the hubby thought he was training for the next Olympics. I pulled the duvet over my head. I remembered the married couple in my slimming group and how they'd sabotaged each other...I didn't think I'd make it to the end of the day without tying the hubby's shoe laces together!
So, the battle lines were drawn....I was nothing if not competitive and he'd already got one up on me by sneaking out under the cover of darkness (ok, it wasn't actually dark but you know what I mean). So I had to draw up my own battle plan. the girls had an after school club that day so I used it to go swimming. I wasn't exactly a fish in the water (well unless Whales are fish) but I did manage more lengths than I thought. (I even had time wash and dry my swimming stuff so hubby was none the wiser.) I started using my kitchen as a gym whilst I was cooking the girls tea. The work tops were great for doing press ups and I could do squats whilst I was waiting for the veg to boil. My children clearly thought I'd gone insane. I ran up my stairs every time I went up them, I even walked up the three escalators at the train station (although by the time I got to the third my calves were burning). I carried on with my running along the prom and strangely by the end of the week I was beginning to feel healthier, just by making these small changes I could feel an improvement. The excercise coupled with my weightloss was totally making my clothes feel better.
And as for the hubby? Well afther his exertion on the 1st day he'd exhausted himself and that had been his excercise for the week. He did mention he was thinking about going back to football, but I think he meant watching Match Of the Day! So weigh in day came back round again and this time the scales were good to me....3 pounds off, which meant 10 pounds off altogether, which is apparently a dress size. I skipped into the hallway to tell the hubby my news. He looked a bit sheepish when I told him how much I'd lost.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Err, don't flip but I lost 6 pounds."
"6 pounds!!!! One flammin' run and you've lost 6 pounds?" I felt like chucking the bathroom scales at him.
That was it, the first and last time I was going on a diet with the hubby. "Yeah well, I've lost 10 pounds altogether, beat that sucker."
Although by the sounds of it he probably could by next week...bloody men!!!
want to worry me? Nope, he's a bloke, if he needed to seek medical attention it would be on the front page of the local newspaper. Just as I was about to ring his mobile I heard the front door open and some very heavy breathing. Oh my God, we were being burgled by some heaving breathing baddie. Could I get to the kids in time and fling them in my bed? The heavy breathing was getting louder as the even heavier footsteps came up the stairs. I was paralyzed with fear, that was until my hubby, with a face as red as his Liverpool shirt came into the bedroom. "Where on earth have you been? You had me worried, then I thought we were being burgled."
He laughed. (He was used to my over active imagination, he said with an imagination like mine I should be a writer, now there's a thought....) "I've been for a jog."
"WHAT?"
He shrugged as he tried to get his breath back. "I said I'd help you with your diet."
"How is you going out for a run helping me with my diet?"
"Just thought we we're going to be healthy together."
I sighed, yep, I looked really healthy snuggled under my duvet while my hubby had been out running. I looked up, he'd disappeared again, I peered over the edge of the bed and found him on the floor doing press ups. I flopped back onto the bed. This was EXACTLY why I didn't want to do this together, not while the hubby thought he was training for the next Olympics. I pulled the duvet over my head. I remembered the married couple in my slimming group and how they'd sabotaged each other...I didn't think I'd make it to the end of the day without tying the hubby's shoe laces together!
So, the battle lines were drawn....I was nothing if not competitive and he'd already got one up on me by sneaking out under the cover of darkness (ok, it wasn't actually dark but you know what I mean). So I had to draw up my own battle plan. the girls had an after school club that day so I used it to go swimming. I wasn't exactly a fish in the water (well unless Whales are fish) but I did manage more lengths than I thought. (I even had time wash and dry my swimming stuff so hubby was none the wiser.) I started using my kitchen as a gym whilst I was cooking the girls tea. The work tops were great for doing press ups and I could do squats whilst I was waiting for the veg to boil. My children clearly thought I'd gone insane. I ran up my stairs every time I went up them, I even walked up the three escalators at the train station (although by the time I got to the third my calves were burning). I carried on with my running along the prom and strangely by the end of the week I was beginning to feel healthier, just by making these small changes I could feel an improvement. The excercise coupled with my weightloss was totally making my clothes feel better.
And as for the hubby? Well afther his exertion on the 1st day he'd exhausted himself and that had been his excercise for the week. He did mention he was thinking about going back to football, but I think he meant watching Match Of the Day! So weigh in day came back round again and this time the scales were good to me....3 pounds off, which meant 10 pounds off altogether, which is apparently a dress size. I skipped into the hallway to tell the hubby my news. He looked a bit sheepish when I told him how much I'd lost.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"Err, don't flip but I lost 6 pounds."
"6 pounds!!!! One flammin' run and you've lost 6 pounds?" I felt like chucking the bathroom scales at him.
That was it, the first and last time I was going on a diet with the hubby. "Yeah well, I've lost 10 pounds altogether, beat that sucker."
Although by the sounds of it he probably could by next week...bloody men!!!
EPISODE NINE BACK ON THE WAGON
So, after a self imposed exile from the world of dieting, I am back, Jessie James, still battling the bulge but not quite ready to give up just yet. Sometimes life just gets in the way and the last thing you want to spend brain time on is counting calories.
So, this morning, I left that place called Denial (Not to be confused with the river in Egypt, that's THE Nile) and took my first step back onto the wagon. The first step being the blasted bathroom scales. Despite me buying a set of scales in my favourite colour, it doesn't make me like the sodding things.
Now, I tried to rationalise to myself, it's just a number, I am not defined by a number - even if that said number has the ability to crush me, it's only a number. Granted, it's probably the second most important number in your life, the first being a set of winning lottery numbers (and IF I did win the lottery I could afford a gastric band and a personal trainer to live in the west wing of the mansion I would buy with said winnings...I'm going off at a tanget, see how easily distracted I am when it comes to trying to get myself together). So standing on the scales, trying not to look at them as I had a rough idea in my head what they were going to say, I bit the bullet and looked down...PHEW! Was not as bad as initially thought. I was a good seven pounds lighter than I'd anticipated I was (I checked five times just to make sure!!) So that was ok, the next stone is do-able. I suddenly realised that what had been stressing out about my weight (and therefore making me eat more) was worrying that my weight was more than it actually is. So now I've got the nasty scales bit out of the way, I can now fully get back on the wagon.
I put on my lovely new running trainers and off I went, I'm not saying it was easy, it's not the nicest experience running in the rain when you'd rather be in bed, but I've done it now, which should make the next run much easier. And here's the thing, I actually like how my body feels when I excercise more regularly, I like that my legs feel more toned, my arms have more definition and all those god awful planks do actually make your stomach tighter. So, if I like the effect exercise has on me, why would I stop doing it? Easy, because my self destruction button is too easy to press, it's my defense mechanism. So the secret of my weightloss and excercise really needs to be to find another defense mechanism or at least a way to stop me pushing the button..let's see how I get on with that...
So, this morning, I left that place called Denial (Not to be confused with the river in Egypt, that's THE Nile) and took my first step back onto the wagon. The first step being the blasted bathroom scales. Despite me buying a set of scales in my favourite colour, it doesn't make me like the sodding things.
Now, I tried to rationalise to myself, it's just a number, I am not defined by a number - even if that said number has the ability to crush me, it's only a number. Granted, it's probably the second most important number in your life, the first being a set of winning lottery numbers (and IF I did win the lottery I could afford a gastric band and a personal trainer to live in the west wing of the mansion I would buy with said winnings...I'm going off at a tanget, see how easily distracted I am when it comes to trying to get myself together). So standing on the scales, trying not to look at them as I had a rough idea in my head what they were going to say, I bit the bullet and looked down...PHEW! Was not as bad as initially thought. I was a good seven pounds lighter than I'd anticipated I was (I checked five times just to make sure!!) So that was ok, the next stone is do-able. I suddenly realised that what had been stressing out about my weight (and therefore making me eat more) was worrying that my weight was more than it actually is. So now I've got the nasty scales bit out of the way, I can now fully get back on the wagon.
I put on my lovely new running trainers and off I went, I'm not saying it was easy, it's not the nicest experience running in the rain when you'd rather be in bed, but I've done it now, which should make the next run much easier. And here's the thing, I actually like how my body feels when I excercise more regularly, I like that my legs feel more toned, my arms have more definition and all those god awful planks do actually make your stomach tighter. So, if I like the effect exercise has on me, why would I stop doing it? Easy, because my self destruction button is too easy to press, it's my defense mechanism. So the secret of my weightloss and excercise really needs to be to find another defense mechanism or at least a way to stop me pushing the button..let's see how I get on with that...