After all my complaining about my diet not working, and though the scales still tell me, stubbornly, that I’ve only shifted probably 2 pounds in the last two months, I am somehow getting trimmer. Not thinner, you understand, but trimmer.
I know this because when I bought this oxblood miniskirt from Zara about three weeks ago I had to really breeeaaathhe in and think about sticks and knitting needles and Rizlas in order to get it on. And when it was on it was quite uncomfortable. Now I can get it on, get the zip all the way up and I’m not hopping from foot to foot all day long, desperate to take it off. I mean, it comes off and the cosies go on as soon as the kids are in the bath, but until then I can stand it.
But it has come at a price, my friends. No booze. No bagels. No patisserie (WEEEEPS LONG TEARS). Yesterday I took the kids to my mum’s house and she was making Welsh Cakes and they sat all hot and creamy and delicious, on the side and the kids all fucking stuffed themselves with them, all slathered in butter. At one point Sam had one in his mouth and one in each hand. You don’t understand… they are the taste of my childhood; Welsh Cakes for me are not just food – they are sunlight, they are life, they are my mother’s love. And I didn’t eat one.
Dinner is mostly vegetables. Sometimes fish and vegetables if I’m lucky. We had braised cabbage the other night. That’s it. Just braised bloody cabbage. Tonight we might have chickpeas!!!!!!!
I’m not even allowed rice cakes. But I DO have Ryvita. I went to Bill Granger’s place in King’s Cross the other morning – (I do so love an urban regeneration project) – and I did not have the ricotta hotcakes, I did not have the corn fritters with bacon – I had the vegan granola with coconut yoghurt.
But, you know, when you’re on a bit of a miserable diet because you don’t want to be flabby round your middle, you can get used to the diet as long as it’s working. When you see results, suddenly you don’t feel like such a pathetic fool. You feel like you’ve got goals and you’re reaching goals and it’s all about all these bloody goals. Hard work is alright if you get rewarded for it. And after 35, there are no quick fixes.
Like Madonna said: “There are no shortcuts to being Madonna.” Bet she’s got goals, even at 150 or whatever she is. So Amen to that.
Mmmmm … I love welsh cakes too. I used to sit next to a Welsh fella at work and he would sometimes bring in the welsh cakes his aunt had made him.
Your diet doesn’t sound very much fun.
Your diet sounds bloody miserable but you are looking lovely.
Loving the blog btw, with my cuppa each morning. X
Why am I even reading this? Because you write so brilliantly, that’s why. x
Sue Collins says
I can’t understand why you would want to make yourself miserable in this way when the answer is so simple – a healthy Mediterranean diet (not a deprivation diet) and a really good personal trainer. A good PT will assess your needs and, more importantly, the kind of exercise you enjoy so you are likely to keep going between sessions. It has worked for me for many years. Surely it’s worth a try and must be better than what you are putting yourself through.
It’s the last few pounds that are the very hardest to shift, I’ve found only starvation works.
I had to have 2 dental implants a year ago and for the 3 months that it took to complete the whole job I was terrified of eating (they were front teeth) so I lived on soup and porridge the whole time and (not surprisingly) the bit of extra weight I had been trying to shift for over a year completely disappeared and more importantly has not come back. Completely elated and love my new teeth as well, good results all round.
Thing is, aint life about a bit of joy – you know, eating cake and having fun? Because dieting is so fucking boring. Also – to NEVER eat bread again? Sustainable? The key is moderation in everything – and work out. Work out and you can eat what you want. Good on you and all, but is this forever? If so – pretty glum way to be surely?
it falls to piss at the weekend, but other than that I stick to it. I’m getting used to it
Chickpeas can be dangerous beasties – we had falafels and lots of hummous last night, and this morning … um, well, er … don’t make urgent plans to leave the house.
How did the spinning go? I must say, I think I would prefer vigorous exercise to miserable dieting (says the fatty who ate almost all of the pies). A friend once tried this on me: “Let’s train for a marathon! It’ll be great, we can eat anything we want and still lose weight!”.
To be fair, she now does triathlons and is very slim.
I don’t, and am not.
I loved spinning. it was really good. not sure how much difference only going once a week will make but it’s better than nothing. re: triathlons – running fucks your knees, ankles and back. everyone knows that.
Why no rice cakes?
actually just full of carbs…