Sometimes, you lose. Sometimes, you gain.
Sometimes, on weeks where you don't particularly eat sensibly, but DO start walking again toward the tail-end of the seven days, you take a high-wire step. Firmish, possibly wobbly, but when all is said and done, you're still a long way up in the air.
This week, I'm static at 17st 8.25. Which I'm happy enough to take, this week. A wobble-but-not-fall does not leave you smeared all over the sawdust with the lions taking an interest in your entrails. You're still oh-fuck metres up in the air (and in my case, you've still got weak ankles, so it doesn't bode well), but all you've done is progress in the time dimension. Another week older and buggerall's changed, as Tennessee Ernie Ford almost certainly never sang.
Yes, I'm wittering. I do that. A lot.
Bottom line - ate some inadvisable stuff this week, walked for the last two days of the weigh-in week, nothing changed.
Had my face-fuzz all of almost fifteen shaved off almost immediately after weighing-in. Fairly sure that would have lost me at least a quarter-pound, had I managed to have it done before the weigh-in. Feels very odd, but wanted to get rid of it in a gesture of 'Grr, let's get serious about stuff.'
Kind of look like a toddler now. Churchill as a toddler.
Also, hasn't especially worked as a focusing device. Had my first ice-cream of the tourist season later that day.
Yes, in February.
I'd say 'Don't judge me,' but in a blog about trying to lose weight, that's almost entirely what you're here for, so judge away, by all means. Am heading into a deadline-bottleneck, so the likelihood of much walking in the coming week seems slimmer than I am. Any loss next week will have to come from other sources.
Damn, already shaved off all my beard-hair.
Wonder how much toenails weigh...
Wednesday 27 February 2019
Tuesday 19 February 2019
The Surprise Benificence
Ha. Well, OK.
Wasn't expecting that.
Have done precisely buggerall to deserve that.
Down today to 17st 8.25.
There's no really plausible explanation for that, as I seem to be building a hibernation nest around myself. Sometimes, I guess, the universe just likes a tosser. Not often. Certainly not often enough to depend on. But occasionally, it throws you a bone and allows you to throw victorious V-signs at the Nazi Scales. Honestly, as weeks go, this has been another stupid one, with occasional bits of sense flung into the abyss of fried breakfasts and Valentine's Day gorgeousness and suchlike.
Blood's been haywire this week - the morning after Valentine's Day it was up to 16.0 - which is basically two people's ideal blood sugar, coursing around one system. #BadTony
But otherwise, if this blog isn't to deteriorate again into just a series of posts of what I should do, what I intend to do, and what I didn't do again because Reasons, there's not an enormous amount to report from this week. Stayed indoors a great deal, edited a great deal, ate a faaaairly great deal. So no - no real idea how I'm even down at all on last week.
Thanks, Universe!
I supppose the motivating point from all this is similar to what it was last week. If I WERE to get my shit together, knuckle down, eat more sensibly and maybe, just maybe, move my ass a little this week, I technically could break a barrier - could go beneath 17st 7, into the lower half of the 17s, which would feel like disproportionate success, and would also, not for nothing, deal with the blood issues.
Yeah - that's motivating as all get-out, and I knew that this morning after I got off the Nazi Scales. Which didn't, somehow, stop me having chips for lunch.
Yes, absolutely, sometimes I need beating upside the head.
Onward though - with a little wink from the universe - hopefully to a more sensible week and even better, less fluke-based and therefore more rational results next week.
Wasn't expecting that.
Have done precisely buggerall to deserve that.
Down today to 17st 8.25.
There's no really plausible explanation for that, as I seem to be building a hibernation nest around myself. Sometimes, I guess, the universe just likes a tosser. Not often. Certainly not often enough to depend on. But occasionally, it throws you a bone and allows you to throw victorious V-signs at the Nazi Scales. Honestly, as weeks go, this has been another stupid one, with occasional bits of sense flung into the abyss of fried breakfasts and Valentine's Day gorgeousness and suchlike.
Blood's been haywire this week - the morning after Valentine's Day it was up to 16.0 - which is basically two people's ideal blood sugar, coursing around one system. #BadTony
But otherwise, if this blog isn't to deteriorate again into just a series of posts of what I should do, what I intend to do, and what I didn't do again because Reasons, there's not an enormous amount to report from this week. Stayed indoors a great deal, edited a great deal, ate a faaaairly great deal. So no - no real idea how I'm even down at all on last week.
Thanks, Universe!
I supppose the motivating point from all this is similar to what it was last week. If I WERE to get my shit together, knuckle down, eat more sensibly and maybe, just maybe, move my ass a little this week, I technically could break a barrier - could go beneath 17st 7, into the lower half of the 17s, which would feel like disproportionate success, and would also, not for nothing, deal with the blood issues.
Yeah - that's motivating as all get-out, and I knew that this morning after I got off the Nazi Scales. Which didn't, somehow, stop me having chips for lunch.
Yes, absolutely, sometimes I need beating upside the head.
Onward though - with a little wink from the universe - hopefully to a more sensible week and even better, less fluke-based and therefore more rational results next week.
Tuesday 12 February 2019
The Investment Warning
I remember when the UK government was in a frenzy of selling off its national assets to individuals and companies, it advertised shares on the TV. One of the things in the vocal small-print at the end of those adverts was 'stocks and shares may go down as well as up.'
So it is with Disappearing - numbers may go up as well as down.
In my last post, I mentioned I was just a reaonable week's Disappearing away from returning to my lightest point on this run.
I also did mention that at that point, I hadn't HAD a reasonable week's Disappearing.
I went on to not have a reasonable week. Went out for fish and chips last night, followed up by cereal later, so certain was I that things were going to pot.
Pot this morning has me at 17st 11.75 - up a pound and a half.
Need to Do The Thing. Haven't Done The Thing.
The Thing Awaits.
Listened to the audiobook of The Martian by Andy Weir this week. That's a pretty good object lesson in Doing The Thing. Works on the principle that Not Doing The Thing means the planet on which you're standing gets to kill you.
That appears to be the case whether you're standing on Earth or Mars.
Right now, I'd be the version of Astronaut Mark Watney that dies on Sol 6. The one who doesn't even get up when he's left behind by his crew. #EpicThingDoingFail
I know what to do. Seriously, I do. Right now though, I'm a brain in a jar, steeping in nihilistic idiocy on almost every front, overthinking wildly. The irony of course being that I also know if I simply put a pin in that behaviour for a minute and Did The Thing - walked, for instance - my mood would naturally elevate, because hell, I'd be walking by the seaside, and that works for me. Part of me though wants to specifcially not do that. Pathetic, I know, but there it is. You know how it is - the notion that positive action is a force of creativity, keeping inevitable entropy at bay for just a while. Sometimes, the entropy is attractive.
lol wow, get a load of this fuckin' guy. From a pound and a half to inevitable entropy in a handful of paragraphs.
Laughing at myself now. Surely that has to be better than taking myself seriously?
Right. Fuck it. Weekly reset has me up. Let's Do The Motherfucking Thing.
So it is with Disappearing - numbers may go up as well as down.
In my last post, I mentioned I was just a reaonable week's Disappearing away from returning to my lightest point on this run.
I also did mention that at that point, I hadn't HAD a reasonable week's Disappearing.
I went on to not have a reasonable week. Went out for fish and chips last night, followed up by cereal later, so certain was I that things were going to pot.
Pot this morning has me at 17st 11.75 - up a pound and a half.
Need to Do The Thing. Haven't Done The Thing.
The Thing Awaits.
Listened to the audiobook of The Martian by Andy Weir this week. That's a pretty good object lesson in Doing The Thing. Works on the principle that Not Doing The Thing means the planet on which you're standing gets to kill you.
That appears to be the case whether you're standing on Earth or Mars.
Right now, I'd be the version of Astronaut Mark Watney that dies on Sol 6. The one who doesn't even get up when he's left behind by his crew. #EpicThingDoingFail
I know what to do. Seriously, I do. Right now though, I'm a brain in a jar, steeping in nihilistic idiocy on almost every front, overthinking wildly. The irony of course being that I also know if I simply put a pin in that behaviour for a minute and Did The Thing - walked, for instance - my mood would naturally elevate, because hell, I'd be walking by the seaside, and that works for me. Part of me though wants to specifcially not do that. Pathetic, I know, but there it is. You know how it is - the notion that positive action is a force of creativity, keeping inevitable entropy at bay for just a while. Sometimes, the entropy is attractive.
lol wow, get a load of this fuckin' guy. From a pound and a half to inevitable entropy in a handful of paragraphs.
Laughing at myself now. Surely that has to be better than taking myself seriously?
Right. Fuck it. Weekly reset has me up. Let's Do The Motherfucking Thing.
Friday 8 February 2019
The Exploding Wagon And The Winter Coat
Apologies all, been away a week and a bit. Not intentionally, just never got round to posting the blog as is expected on my Tuesday weigh-in days.
So let's get some straightforward stuff out of the way. Have been more or less off the Disappearing Wagon for those two weeks. haven't walked but once since I fell over in the nearby tunnels - is it a bit pathetic to still be in my forties and confess I sooooort of have a thing I have to now get over about walking through the tunnels which lead to my best, easiest and most sprawling walks? Mostly a constructed thing - I'm half deaf, and have what the specialist gloriously described as 'a severe insult to the organ of balance' - it's a bit of a party trick now: if I close my eyes and march on the spot, I will inadvertantly rotate a full 180 degrees, without being even remotely aware in the moment that I'm doing it. I even have a pal who didn't believe that till she'd seen it with her own eyes.
What that also brings with it is a tendency towards dizziness and falling over when I move rapidly from light environments to dark ones. Such as tunnels. Or, as we've discovered many a time, from lit rooms to dark corridors. I swear sometimes d's just there counting the seconds under her breath until I fall over or crash into things.
Anyhow, so there's that. Plus of course, I'm a natural born klutz with an intimate relationship with the ground, who's previously broken both ankles, a big toe and a femur, so there's a growing cache of experiences screaming at me when I go into situations of potential up-fuckery. But falling this time, even though I didn't break anything, seems to have left me with a rising tension in the chest when I approach the local tunnels. Have done it once since then, but found it massively easy to find excuses since. Clearly, it's a thing that needs beating. I just haven't been motivated to beat it yet.
That, added to a certain loosening of the self-restraint belt, meant that last week, when I got on the Nazi Scales, I'd gone up from 17st 7 and some to 17st 10.5 - roughly three pounds up.
Went ahead and had another, almost equally wild week, and this Tuesday, tipped the scales at 17st 9.25. So...up on two weeks ago, down on last week.
Clearly though, I need to get my shit together. So...yeah. This is my 'getting my shit together' face. Grrr...
I guess the one good thing to claw from these results is that I'm one good week away from getting back to the last, best, result I had.
Which would be fine if I'd had a good week. Haven't really - had Chinese New Year, and a banquet which was glorious beyond measure, topped off by a Fererro Rocher Sundae, which was a mistake on absolutely every level.
And so it goes. Haven't weighed since Tuesday - mostly on the basis of fear, if we're honest - but got a nice boost today. As Storm Erik, the most Viking of weather fronts, prepares to roll in and blow us all from pillar to post, it was time to dig out the winter coats when we left the flat this morning. It would be overstating things a lot to say I was dreading putting mine on, because last winter it was tight to the point of a sausage ready for sizzling, but certainly when there appeared to be a comfortable gap between where my belly ended and where the coat began this morning, I left the flat feeling a rather more cost glow than I did laast year. This, I guess, is the importance of perspective. Yeah, sure, I had a week where I put a few pounds back on, and a week where I lost a bare smidge of that again - and it's actually anyone's guess how things will go next Tuesday - but I'm still lighter than I've been in quite some time. Sometimes the longer timescale can give you a reminder than not everything lives or dies from one weigh-in to another.
Still and all, the 'getting my shit together' face is needed. Onward! Downward! Cheeearrrrrrge!
So let's get some straightforward stuff out of the way. Have been more or less off the Disappearing Wagon for those two weeks. haven't walked but once since I fell over in the nearby tunnels - is it a bit pathetic to still be in my forties and confess I sooooort of have a thing I have to now get over about walking through the tunnels which lead to my best, easiest and most sprawling walks? Mostly a constructed thing - I'm half deaf, and have what the specialist gloriously described as 'a severe insult to the organ of balance' - it's a bit of a party trick now: if I close my eyes and march on the spot, I will inadvertantly rotate a full 180 degrees, without being even remotely aware in the moment that I'm doing it. I even have a pal who didn't believe that till she'd seen it with her own eyes.
What that also brings with it is a tendency towards dizziness and falling over when I move rapidly from light environments to dark ones. Such as tunnels. Or, as we've discovered many a time, from lit rooms to dark corridors. I swear sometimes d's just there counting the seconds under her breath until I fall over or crash into things.
Anyhow, so there's that. Plus of course, I'm a natural born klutz with an intimate relationship with the ground, who's previously broken both ankles, a big toe and a femur, so there's a growing cache of experiences screaming at me when I go into situations of potential up-fuckery. But falling this time, even though I didn't break anything, seems to have left me with a rising tension in the chest when I approach the local tunnels. Have done it once since then, but found it massively easy to find excuses since. Clearly, it's a thing that needs beating. I just haven't been motivated to beat it yet.
That, added to a certain loosening of the self-restraint belt, meant that last week, when I got on the Nazi Scales, I'd gone up from 17st 7 and some to 17st 10.5 - roughly three pounds up.
Went ahead and had another, almost equally wild week, and this Tuesday, tipped the scales at 17st 9.25. So...up on two weeks ago, down on last week.
Clearly though, I need to get my shit together. So...yeah. This is my 'getting my shit together' face. Grrr...
I guess the one good thing to claw from these results is that I'm one good week away from getting back to the last, best, result I had.
Which would be fine if I'd had a good week. Haven't really - had Chinese New Year, and a banquet which was glorious beyond measure, topped off by a Fererro Rocher Sundae, which was a mistake on absolutely every level.
And so it goes. Haven't weighed since Tuesday - mostly on the basis of fear, if we're honest - but got a nice boost today. As Storm Erik, the most Viking of weather fronts, prepares to roll in and blow us all from pillar to post, it was time to dig out the winter coats when we left the flat this morning. It would be overstating things a lot to say I was dreading putting mine on, because last winter it was tight to the point of a sausage ready for sizzling, but certainly when there appeared to be a comfortable gap between where my belly ended and where the coat began this morning, I left the flat feeling a rather more cost glow than I did laast year. This, I guess, is the importance of perspective. Yeah, sure, I had a week where I put a few pounds back on, and a week where I lost a bare smidge of that again - and it's actually anyone's guess how things will go next Tuesday - but I'm still lighter than I've been in quite some time. Sometimes the longer timescale can give you a reminder than not everything lives or dies from one weigh-in to another.
Still and all, the 'getting my shit together' face is needed. Onward! Downward! Cheeearrrrrrge!
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