My original blog, the one that got hacked, was called Fat Girl Slim Blog. It began as a blog about me trying to lose weight and keep it off and somehow morphed into a blog about me walking and training for the Moonwalk with a bit about weight loss now and then. Since the blog was hacked and I started this new blog I’ve been going through posts from the old blog and posting the less boring ones here. Mainly the weight loss stuff doesn’t make the cut. This post, from early February 2013 though is mostly about weight loss and our odd obsessions about our bodies.
9 Februray 2013
Looking through the French window this morning made me pretty glad I did the sixteen miles yesterday. Stuff was falling from the sky and not just the usual wet stuff. There was an odd smorgasbord of precipitation going on, a pick and mix of rain, sleet and big fat flakes of snow mingled together. The gritters were out last night, according to CJ. I imagine they were kicking themselves when they looked outside this morning. The giant snow flakes were just melting into the general wetness as they hit the ground and the garden was a green, dripping place I didn’t much want to visit.
Ruminating on what to eat for the week over a cup of coffee had me thinking about the way this journey of mine seems to be going. It’s feels like I’m in semi maintenance mode right now, since I fell out of love with the daily counting and balancing calories in, calories out game and abandoned the cut and thrust of the fight to the finish line. It’s not that I’ve given up on crossing that line you understand, I still want the metaphorical medal for my metaphorical trophy cupboard, I’ve just stopped racing towards it. I’m happy with my body these days, more or less, and I feel like strolling the last few miles, having a good old look around at the scenery.
Maybe maintenance doesn’t have a defined starting point, could be it’s better if it doesn’t, and it feels right to be easing into it in tiny increments. I still weigh things like my granola, the nuts I take for snacks, the meat or cheese I put in my wrap but I’m less obsessed with it now. So there’s an extra gramme of granola, not quite a full measure of cashews, does it matter in the great scheme of things? Portion size is important I know, I’m not saying it’s not, but a gramme either way, an extra sultana, I’m not so sure. More often than not it’s less anyway and I just can’t be bothered with the, take off one cashew and add a smaller one thing any more. In other words things have become a lot less exact and therefore a lot less exacting.
When I concoct a new recipe I still work out the calories and look for ways of making them less. Somehow I don’t see that ever stopping because I like to know I’m not accidentally turning something healthy into something ridiculously calorific by mistake. Breakfast is almost always granola of some kind, these days one of my own blends of seeds, oats and additional taste combinations, lunch and snacks vary but along a similar theme and dinner is something I already know the calories to so I suppose I am still counting in a kind of laissez faire way. The obsessiveness and the hard work has gone though.
There’s still lots of exercise too with the walk to and from work, the Moonwalk training, up and down the Big Hill and goodness knows what else. I just don’t log it and worry about it any more. Somehow it’s more fun that way and surely fun is what it should be, isn’t it? I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it again but, unless you enjoy the exercise you do, you’re not going to keep doing it long term. These days I’m looking at the long game rather than the space between the weekly weigh in. Yes I do still adhere to that ritual, mainly because I want to be sure the fat is not creeping back while I’m not looking. So, I didn’t lose anything this week and I really do want to keep losing, but I didn’t gain either and, as long as the general trend is down, I’m not sure I care too much. Maybe I should change the name of this blog from Fat Girl Slim to ‘meandering slowly to goal weight while having fun’ or something similar.
After I’d done all the cooking this afternoon I sat down for a cup of coffee and a little rest before it was time to cook dinner. As I’m incapable of sitting doing one thing at a time and Saints were not playing until this evening so I wasn’t watching football scores, I thought I’d have a little browse of the WLR forum to see what was happening in loser land. There was a post from McMotherpants who was feeling a little down about the size of her tummy. Of course I replied to it because I hate people feeling down and I wanted to cheer her up but then I got to thinking about how we all get fixated on bits of our bodies. I suspect even skinny girls do it.
For a start McMotherpants has just had two babies in fairly quick succession and has more or less lost all her baby weight even though baby Ellie is only just two months old. Now that is no mean feat, especially as I swear some of mine is hanging around to this day even though CJ (my youngest) is a fully grown man! She should be proud as punch of herself but instead she’s worried her tummy is a bit bigger than it was! This seems to be a recurring theme amongst all of us, no matter how well we do we can’t seem to see anything but the negative bits. It makes me wonder if everyone does it? For instance, did Neil Armstrong, my favourite Moonwalker, think, “Ok, I was the first man to walk on the Moon but if only I could be two inches taller.” I have to say here I have no idea how tall he actually was or if he worried about it, I’m just saying…
McMotherpants own mother didn’t help the situation by saying it was a family trait and she’d never have a flat stomach because none of the women in the family do. Honestly Mothers! My own was my worst critic, even worse then I am myself. Why do they do that? Actually do I do it to my boys? Hmm… Anyhow, to McMotherpants and everyone else out there obsessed with one body part or another I’d say this. We all fixate on something. I have the feeling it’s human nature. The thing we fixate on is never as bad as we think it is and we are generally the only people who see it that way. I am fixated on the size of my bum (just in case you hadn’t noticed) and I kind of know its not as big as I think but I can’t quite admit or believe it. If my bum actually disappeared completely, leaving an indentation rather than a sticky out round thing, I suspect I’d still feel it was too big. Thinking it does not make it true!
As for family traits, don’t even get me started on that. Every so often I look in the mirror and see something of Mother there. Don’t get me wrong, she was my mother and I loved her, but it doesn’t mean I want to look like her, not even a little bit, not ever! The thing is, just because all the women in your family have fat tummies, or big bums or are morbidly obese (like mine) doesn’t mean you will be too. Some things do run in families I know, you can’t do anything about it if you’ve inherited frizzy ginger hair or hairy toes. Stuff like weight or tummy muscles though, that is something you don’t have to put up with. If we were all doomed to be exactly like our parents (what a horrible thought) I’d be six foot tall with size eight feet and have an exciting selection of Miss Mary of Sweden girdles in my underwear drawer. I can’t even begin to tell you what is wrong with that statement.