All that fat

Wouldn’t it be great to just click your fingers and be a healthy weight- no more emotionally charged bad food choices, no more cravings for the wrong things, just a slim body and a great attitude to food and life in general?

A friend sent me some photos of a recent get-together and I was totally shocked, and as a result, full of self-loathing, when I saw just how big I am right now. There’s no nice way of saying it- I’m fat. And for some reason fatness equates to self-loathing.

I guess it’s a self esteem thing. I know that I’m responsible for my size, therefore I must be rubbish to have let myself regain so much weight. And for some reason self esteem is inextricably interwoven with how I look.

When I see a photo of myself, it is as though I am looking at myself with new eyes. The me I see in the mirror every day is nothing like the me staring back at me in those photos. And I’m sure the photos tell a much truer story than the self in the mirror.

Oh dear, how can such a small thing as seeing yourself in a photo produce such a sense of self-loathing? I really must either be very vain and place far too much importance on how I look, or I must be so un-vain that I let myself become the fat blob that I am now. I’m not sure which it is, but I no longer feel as though I have the strength to change.

Right now, I’m sat here wondering if I’ll be a fat blob for ever. A rubbish, ugly fat blob. I’m a mess. An un-motivated, stuck-in-a-rut, gluttonous mess.

That’s how I feel.

 

Procrastination and being busy doing nothing

I am just so totally and utterly going NOWHERE at the moment; the only thing I seem to be good at is eating and gaining weight!!!

A week ago, I figured what I needed was some life-coaching. someone to help me get past whatever it is that’s stopping me from successful weight loss. It sounded good, I had a 20 minute free session and I could see that there was a lot of work that could be done to re-frame my mind and get myself out of this situation. But there was a slight snag- the £50 price tag for 45 minutes!

I know that working one-to-one with a professional is never going to be cheap- and also that this would be money well spent. BUT, and it’s a big but, I don’t HAVE £300 knocking around for the average 6 sessions. It’s simply too far out of my price bracket. Having the ME means I’m only working part-time, and the income I get is soon swallowed up with food, bills etc that there really isn’t anything left for expensive therapies.

Shame that. It looks like I’ll have to just keep plodding on in my own dysfunctional way.

I’ve thought that maybe I need to join a new slimming club, you know, try something new, but then I stop and think, well, you hear of the people who have tried ‘every diet going’ and are still overweight, and I don’t want to go down that route of false hopes and ups and downs. One ‘diet’ is enough I reckon. But then, if I no longer have the motivation to stick to that diet… why am I sticking with it? Surely there’s another option just around the corner that will be the answer to all my problems, the thing of dreams?

I also look at my recent attempts to get motivated. I’ve tried SOOOO many different ideas, different avenues, tools, techniques and plans to get my mojo back, and it seems that for every new thing I try, this becomes more of a dieting minefield and less of a weight-loss exercise.

It’s as though I now know TOO much, I know too many rules, I know too many tools and tips and restrictions and good things and bad things- so much so that it overwhelms me and instead of managing to focus on one positive habit change, I end up feeling that this dieting lark is too full of restrictions, that there’s too much writing and recording and reflecting involved. I end up feeling exhausted before I’ve even started. So it’s easier to carry on doing what I’ve always done than it is to work out which forms I ought to be filling out today- it’s as though I’m bogged down with miles of dieting red tape.

I’ve got the food diary, the unplanned eating assessment form, the goalsetting form, the weight-loss graph, the hunger scale, the tool planner… the list goes on and on and in the end it’s easier to not do any of it.

I guess maybe I’ve become a victim of my own motivation. I’ve documented my diet to death.

Maybe I really DO need a new start. Chuck out all the tools, forms and tables and charts and start again. But how?

The big bad one four

14st0lbs

I knew I shouldn’t have stepped on the scales this evening. I knew it was a bad idea before I even did it. Fourteen stone!!! This is ridiculous. This must be the lowest point of my weight-loss journey so far. I’ve put on one and a half stone from my slimmest, and I’m nearly back to square one. I was 14st7lbs at my heaviest. Not so far to go before I’m back to that size!!!

Why am I doing this to myself? Last night I had a binge. A proper binge. 8 biscuits, 4 packets of snack-a-jacks popcorn, two flapjacks, two packs of crisps and a cereal bar. That was after my dinner. I didn’t need any of it, but I still ate it. Why? What on earth is wrong with me? And yesterday morning I’d got up and decided that I would follow a diet for one day. One day only, and I still blew it!

I KNOW it’s self-destructive to binge, I KNOW crisps and cakes are bad for me, I KNOW healthy food makes me feel better and more energised, I KNOW I’m happier when I’m losing weight and getting compliments, I KNOW I’m eating food my body doesn’t need, I KNOW I’m not hungry even when I’m eating that thing I have a compulsion to eat.

It’s all crap. I’m crap, dieting is crap, weight is crap, low self-esteem from being overweight is crap. And yet, I’m responsible for my size. I, I am the one that feeds myself, I am the one that pushes food I don’t need down my throat. I am the one that acknowledges that I’m not enjoying eating the third or fourth biscuit or packet of crisps.

Am I really that rubbish? Am I really that weak-willed and shallow that I give in to every craving I have and lull myself to sleep with mouthfull after mouthfull until I feel sick? Why do I do that? do I really hate myself that much, that I want to punish myself week after week at the scales with a gain? Do I really hate myself enough to overfill my body with junk food? Do I really hate myself that much that I want to carry on looking fat and feeling uncomfortable in too-small clothes, and getting indigestion from eating the wrong things?

Am I really that crap that I can’t respecct my body enough to look after it? I know exactly what I could and should be doing for my health. Believe me, I’ve probably read more dieting magazines and books than 50 people together. I know what foods support my health, and what foods don’t. I know every trick in the book, but I don’t USE the tricks. When it comes to it, I don’t care, I want food and I want unhealthy food.

When did my relationship with food get so warped? When did food become a comfort, a way to switch off, a way to let go and forget? When did food stop being fuel and start being an obsession? Why do I think like a fat person? Why do I prefer the fatty foods and see them as treats, treats to be had numerous times a day? Why can’t I eat only when I’m physically hungry instead of when I’m having cravings?  Why can’t I stop when I’ve had enough rather than eat and eat and eat and eat? Why can’t I make the right food decisions and why on earth can’t I choose foods that are supportive to my heath rather than detrimental to it?

I AM RUBBISH. I AM TOTALLY UTTERLY STUPIDLY RUBBISH. I need to get a grip, but I’ve been trying to get a grip for a year. And I’m failing to get a grip. I’m under a dietician, I go to Weightwatchers when I can. And I still can’t get a grip.

I’m USELESS. Totally USELESS. Utterly USELESS. I hate myself. I can’t even maintain a diet for a single day. What sort of crap is that. I can’t even eat healthily for a single day. I’ve tried dieting, I’ve tried ‘not dieting’, I’ve tried eating healthily, I’ve tried eating diet foods full of chemicals. But my head’s not in the right place.

But I’m panicking. I do NOT want to get back to my heaviest weight. I want to be slim, I want to be the old me, the me with a healthy relationship with food, the me that’s independant, the me that’s healthy, the me I was before I got ME and before I got depression from the frustration of having ME.

I want the motivation I used to have- I want the energy I used to have- I want to be able to get up an hour early each day and go jogging like I used to do before the ME, I want to cut my calories and diet properly without nearly fainting with fatigue like I do now, I want to be full of vitality instead of being constantly trembly and weak (a weakness that makes me want to eat). I want to be able to go to the gym, use the rower, the treadmill, feel the burn, get the endorphin high from being able to exercise and push myself. I want to go out and do things on my days off instead of lying on my bed exhausted and incapacitated. I want so much, and my illness has taken so much away from me.

No wonder I’m unhappy, no wonder I turn to food. Eating is one of the few things I can do. Eating is my way to feel good. My way of ‘treating’ myself. Eating is easy, it gives me energy. Everything else in my life takes my energy away.

Life with ME is hard. Right now, it feels very hard. It’s hard because my health stands in the way of my dreams. It’s hard because I feel ill most of the time, and when I feel ill nothing else matters. Not even losing weight. When I feel nauseous and shaky and my heart is racing and the room is spinning, carbs and sugar seem a very good idea indeed. Carrots and apples just don’t do it.

My heart is bleeding, It’s bleeding for the me I once was, the me that jogged every day, the motivated, energised, can-do me. In fact I guess what I need right now is a good cry. Perhaps I need to sit down and acknowledge that my life is hard. Maybe I need to allow myself to be struggling, maybe it’s ok to be weak and rubbish and a dieting failure, because I have good excuses. Maybe I should realise that I have good excuses. Maybe I should stop trying and maybe I should let myself balloon up into a size 24, and just not care, because I have excuses.

Maybe I should give in to my situation, and acknowledge that losing weight is a rubbish thing to do when you are ill, maybe I need to realise that I am too weak, to ill, too messed-up to be a successful dieter. But the tears running down my face make me think that that would be soul-destroying to give up. I don’t want to give up. It seems like an impossible mountain to climb, it seems like I have a wall of thick concrete to pull down, it seems like my whole life opposes me losing weight. That’s how I feel right now.

But I won’t give up.

Uh-oh!

Following on from my post on Wednesday, I now believe that my weight was wrong, it should have been 13.9. I think the helper read it wrong. Which of course means that I put on 4lbs rather than one.

The big shocker though, came last night when I stepped on the scales at home. I’m heavier at the weekend usually, but I was not at all impressed to see the scales reading 13.12. That is terrible!!

To get this into perspective, I started out at 14.7 and lost half a stone before joining a weightwatchers meeting. That was two years ago and the first weight on my card reads 13.13.5.

Yesterday, I was 13.12.

Two years of weightwatchers, and I have a 1.5lbs loss to show for it? This really, really isn’t at all good.

I know that only one person can change things. And that’s me. I know that I can make excuses, and I know that I can excuse myself because of my ME and low exercise tolerance. But I also know that, in spite of my challenges, I can make a difference to my weight.

I know that I can’t blame my over-eating on my ME, my mood or my lack of exercise. Sure, that’s WHY I overeat, but overeating is something I CAN change. I can’t change the fact that I have a disability, I can’t change the fact that I have challenges to face, but I CAN change what I eat. And I CAN change how much I eat, and when I eat.

Bustin outta my clothes!!!

Oh dear!!! Does someone have a wonder-pill that could give me my motivation, drive and energy back? Answers on a postcard please!

I’ve not dared to step on the scales for a week or so- but if the fit of my clothes are anything to go buy, I should be getting seriously worried by now. If it were not for the fact that it’s impossible, I would seriously be questioning whether I really AM pregnant! No, really. My belly is expanding to ginormous proportions.

I really, really, have tried everything to get my motivation back. I’m forever dreaming up some new tactic, some new tool, some new plan, to lose this weight, but for some reason I have no focus. I have no drive, where I once had complete and utter drive and determination and focus to do this.

Oh, I have my plans alright. I have the timeframe I set myself to be at my goal, I have the visualisation of how I will look and feel when I get there down to a T. But I just.aint.getting.there. At all.

I know exactly what I need to do to get to my goal. I have all the tools and instructions and support I could ever ask for, and what’s more, I know it works. But one thing is missing, and that’s the most important thing. Somewhere between my ears, it just aint happening.

There’s never been a more determined person than I am. Determined to do this, I mean. So what needs to happen? I know what I’d like to do. I’d like to hit the gym day after day, and eat half of what I’m eating right now. But I can’t. If I don’t eat enough I get hypoglycaema, and if I exercise I quickly become bedbound.

But am I making excuses? I CAN lose weight, in SPITE of my difficulties. I know it can be done because I lost over 2 stone a year or so ago. I just need to buckle down and DO IT.

JUST DO IT!!!

 

 

Total meltdown

I’m sat here with tears rolling down my cheeks. The enormity of the task ahead is totally freaking me out. I have 3 1/2 stone to loose (an estimate because I havent weighed myself for two weeks).

I felt so ready earlier on this week and yet today I am seriously doubting my ability to do this. Even to lose a pound. I know its a silly mindset because Ive lost 2 stone in the last few years, I know I can do it. Its just a shame about the stone thats gone back on.

With the ME monsters comes a feeling of not coping. Sometimes I dont have the energy to do anything more than survive. That sounds quite stark but when you are really seriously ill you can’t think much beyond the here and now. Sadly, depression is part and parcel of many chronic health conditions as well as being common in people who are overweight. And depression doesnt make it at all easy to focus on losing weight.

I’ve decided not to go to weightwatchers this week. Obviously I’m trying to do too much too soon and the feeling of being out of my depth is a common one when my ME can’t handle being ill as well as trying to lose weight.

So I’ve got a change of plan.

• weigh myself at home today
• take myself to a local park with a packed lunch, some books and magazines and a notebook
• sit under a tree and spend hours and hours alone with myself and surrounded by nature
• focus on all the things I can do to nurture myself, both with and without food
• create a gentle template of the 5 most important things I could be doing to support myself right now.

I feel calmer already.