Ohhhh the tediousness.
Weigh-in today = 19st 2.75. Down another teeeeny half-pound this week. I could probably have lost more by cutting my toenails. Come to that, thinking about it, I had a haircut this week, dammit, that's where the half-pound went.
Strange week from a Disappearing perspective - it included a pizza, a regular cereal breakfast of rather too large a size, at least a couple of cereal suppers after dinner and a weekend of sitting shivering in the house going 'Fuck that shit' as the icy herals of the so-called 'Beast From the East weather system blew through and exercised the waves something fierce. So it's not like I have any damn thing to complain about - in fact, I really rather expected to have gone UP this week, what with one thing and another, and might well have done had I not had the joy that is digestive cramps last night.
Still...there is is. Inching, crawling, clawing my way towards the 19 stone border, via indolence, pizza and digestive cramps. One can't help feel there's probably a better way to go about things than this. Hey ho, another week anothe infinitesimal move in the right direction.
Tuesday, 27 February 2018
Tuesday, 20 February 2018
The Crawl Of The Ever-So-Slightly Lighter Brigade
Half a pound, half a pound,
Half a pound downward,
Into the Valley of Taking the Frigging Piss trudged the encumbered...
Yes - today's weigh-in figures show me at 19st 3.25 - that's a whole half-pound lighter than last week.
To be fair, this week I've missed a good few days of walking, due to deadline commitments, and last night we did have a pretty rich pasta dinner, to there's that, but all the same, it feels like a proper crawl at the minute.
But that being said, it's not as though my Disappearing is currently making too painful an impact on my life - the walking's pleasant, and I have yet to dedicate enough time or layers of foot-skin to it for it to be uber-effective; the bike is neeearly uncovered but there are two enormo, fuck-off paintings in the way, for which it's fair to say I don't have actual wall-space for, or any practical clue what to do with. I'm still, as foreshadowed, eating pasta - as well as other unwise things like occasional cashew nuts. I'm still drinking chilled Starbucks drinks from Tesco. And while I'm on my meds, I've been rationing them somewhat, due to a situation of being between doctors at the moment, which is hopefully solved now. So it's probably dead right that I should only be losing quarter-pounds. The time will come when I knuckle the hell down and things start moving properly - probably when I fiugure out what to do with those paintings, and add a daily chunk of biking into my regiment. but that's not today.
And as a pal pointed out to me this morning with a properly Girl Scout philosophy, 'still moving in the right direction.' I did point out that if you took pictures of the rate at which I'm 'moving in the right direction,' as of yet, they'd fail to show any movement whatsoever, but hey ho.
Right - on we go. Some bugger pass me my walking boots...
Half a pound downward,
Into the Valley of Taking the Frigging Piss trudged the encumbered...
Yes - today's weigh-in figures show me at 19st 3.25 - that's a whole half-pound lighter than last week.
To be fair, this week I've missed a good few days of walking, due to deadline commitments, and last night we did have a pretty rich pasta dinner, to there's that, but all the same, it feels like a proper crawl at the minute.
But that being said, it's not as though my Disappearing is currently making too painful an impact on my life - the walking's pleasant, and I have yet to dedicate enough time or layers of foot-skin to it for it to be uber-effective; the bike is neeearly uncovered but there are two enormo, fuck-off paintings in the way, for which it's fair to say I don't have actual wall-space for, or any practical clue what to do with. I'm still, as foreshadowed, eating pasta - as well as other unwise things like occasional cashew nuts. I'm still drinking chilled Starbucks drinks from Tesco. And while I'm on my meds, I've been rationing them somewhat, due to a situation of being between doctors at the moment, which is hopefully solved now. So it's probably dead right that I should only be losing quarter-pounds. The time will come when I knuckle the hell down and things start moving properly - probably when I fiugure out what to do with those paintings, and add a daily chunk of biking into my regiment. but that's not today.
And as a pal pointed out to me this morning with a properly Girl Scout philosophy, 'still moving in the right direction.' I did point out that if you took pictures of the rate at which I'm 'moving in the right direction,' as of yet, they'd fail to show any movement whatsoever, but hey ho.
Right - on we go. Some bugger pass me my walking boots...
Tuesday, 13 February 2018
The Nonsensical Result
This begins to make no sense at all.
Last week, I was pretty good, and lost all of 0.75 of a pound.
This week, I've still been technically sticking to a Disappearing regime, but have misssed a couple of days' walking due to bad weather and deadline panic, plus had a Sunday dinner out at a restautant, and apparently as of this morning, weigh 19st 3.75 - down a full regulation two pounds.
I have no idea how that works - possibly a lack of obsessive weighing and fanatical stressing, while sticking to principles and suchlike. Either way, while it makes little sense to me when I compare the two weeks side by side, I'll happily take the nonsensical result and run with it - two more weeks of this and I see an 18. So, in case there was ever any doubt doubt about this, I'm going pro-nonsense in terms of my Disappearing.
I mean, there's nonsense and nonsense - I'm not about to go pro-Brexit or anything, but a touch of nonsense in terms of giving less of a determined crap about the mini-weigh-ins and the 'Ohhhh I touched a potato on the Sabbath, I must flog myself silly' mentality, and just crack on with the business of Disappearing, pound by irritating, slow, exhausting pound.
It's worth mentioning that last night I had a somewhat lighter supper than I'd intended, which probably played a part in the nonsense of today's result, but hey - whatever works, right?
Onward, to Nonsenseville and seeing the 18 in the stones column. Technically I don't feel like I'm properly Disappearing till we reach a 17, but if I can get the first half-stone (seven pounds) done, it'll feel like progress, and to get beneath 19 again will feel like even more. So yay - nonsense for evvvveryone.
OK, low-cal, artificially sweetened nonsense for evvveryone!
Last week, I was pretty good, and lost all of 0.75 of a pound.
This week, I've still been technically sticking to a Disappearing regime, but have misssed a couple of days' walking due to bad weather and deadline panic, plus had a Sunday dinner out at a restautant, and apparently as of this morning, weigh 19st 3.75 - down a full regulation two pounds.
I have no idea how that works - possibly a lack of obsessive weighing and fanatical stressing, while sticking to principles and suchlike. Either way, while it makes little sense to me when I compare the two weeks side by side, I'll happily take the nonsensical result and run with it - two more weeks of this and I see an 18. So, in case there was ever any doubt doubt about this, I'm going pro-nonsense in terms of my Disappearing.
I mean, there's nonsense and nonsense - I'm not about to go pro-Brexit or anything, but a touch of nonsense in terms of giving less of a determined crap about the mini-weigh-ins and the 'Ohhhh I touched a potato on the Sabbath, I must flog myself silly' mentality, and just crack on with the business of Disappearing, pound by irritating, slow, exhausting pound.
It's worth mentioning that last night I had a somewhat lighter supper than I'd intended, which probably played a part in the nonsense of today's result, but hey - whatever works, right?
Onward, to Nonsenseville and seeing the 18 in the stones column. Technically I don't feel like I'm properly Disappearing till we reach a 17, but if I can get the first half-stone (seven pounds) done, it'll feel like progress, and to get beneath 19 again will feel like even more. So yay - nonsense for evvvveryone.
OK, low-cal, artificially sweetened nonsense for evvveryone!
Tuesday, 6 February 2018
The Optimist's Smidgen
Weigh-in day. Deep joy, as ever.
Today's official weigh-in numbers are: 19 stone 5.5.
That's just three-quarters of a pound lost in the space of seven days of walking, chocolate avoidance and so on.
Hey...and in a very real sense...ho.
Woke up to snow on the beach this morning, so d and I went galumphing along the beach, looking at dead jellyfish, living but entirely daft dogs taking a dip, and fellow humans who believe that a day of snow at the seaside is better than a day elsewhere doing anything else. So that was nice.
In the spirit of turning snow at the seaside into a fun experience, am deciding to experiment with extreme optimism. Sure, it's less than a pound, but sod it, it's less than a pound in the right direction.
Granted, at this rate, I'll be dead of old age before I achieve my ideal weight, but hey - let's not dwell on that, let's celebrate week 2 of less weight that I started out with, and move merrily on. There's an exercise bike I'm vaguely uncovering as I strive for some kind of post-move clarity in the office. There's more walking to be done when the mood and the time takes me, and a working lughole to fill full of audiobooks as I stride. There's the sea, which is an enormously powerful mood enhancer in my case, and there's work to be done in all areas of life, and time still to do it, so onward! I may have only lost a smidgen, but dammit, let's make it an optimist's smidgen, which is as good as a chunk.
So...there.
Today's official weigh-in numbers are: 19 stone 5.5.
That's just three-quarters of a pound lost in the space of seven days of walking, chocolate avoidance and so on.
Hey...and in a very real sense...ho.
Woke up to snow on the beach this morning, so d and I went galumphing along the beach, looking at dead jellyfish, living but entirely daft dogs taking a dip, and fellow humans who believe that a day of snow at the seaside is better than a day elsewhere doing anything else. So that was nice.
In the spirit of turning snow at the seaside into a fun experience, am deciding to experiment with extreme optimism. Sure, it's less than a pound, but sod it, it's less than a pound in the right direction.
Granted, at this rate, I'll be dead of old age before I achieve my ideal weight, but hey - let's not dwell on that, let's celebrate week 2 of less weight that I started out with, and move merrily on. There's an exercise bike I'm vaguely uncovering as I strive for some kind of post-move clarity in the office. There's more walking to be done when the mood and the time takes me, and a working lughole to fill full of audiobooks as I stride. There's the sea, which is an enormously powerful mood enhancer in my case, and there's work to be done in all areas of life, and time still to do it, so onward! I may have only lost a smidgen, but dammit, let's make it an optimist's smidgen, which is as good as a chunk.
So...there.
Monday, 5 February 2018
The Disappointment Bubble
The temptation to carve up time into tiny chunks can be dangerous when Disappearing.
That means unofficial weigh-ins between proper weigh-ins can potentially throw you for a loop, and affect your motivation. That's happened to me this week - an unofficial weigh-in showed only slow progress, and a subsequent unofficial weigh-in actually showed no progress, and the temptation then, when you're putting the time in to increase your exercise quotient and very specifically not eating a whole host of things you want to eat, is to feel distinctly pouty and stone-kicky and, not to put too fine a point on it, tantrummy.
I actually expect no progress at all on tomorrow's officiall weigh-in, so any that does come will be a bonus (a psychologically useful thing, this last-minute moving of goalposts to maintain equilibrium in the face of what would otherwise be bad news). The truth, I suspect, is that my body has acclimatized quickly to the things I'm doing, and is sitting there going 'Yeah. What else ya got?'
The additional truth of course is that I've got quite a lot. This has been what I hope it's OK in this absurd Brexitworld we live in to call a Soft Disappearing, at least in terms of its beginnings. I have still yet to clear enough of the carnage of boxes from around my exercise bike to get back on it since this Disappearing began. There have been days this week when deadlines took precedence and I didn't walk. And even on the days when I did, the distance has been sub-10,000 steps (thought I was somewhat heartened to read a news story this week that said the 10,000 step target was pretty much arbitrary).So there are certainly things I can, and will, do to make the Disappearing bite rather harder in the week ahead. But right now, it would be foolish to deny I'm in a bit of a Disappointment Bubble, because almost every time I've tried, I've lost more than this in the first two weeks, and you get used to, and expectant of, that initial bump-down of water-weight to power-surge your ego and push you on.
That hasn't happened yet this time. Perhaps by giving the Disappearing a few more teeth, I can start to impress my system with the fact that this is happening.
That means unofficial weigh-ins between proper weigh-ins can potentially throw you for a loop, and affect your motivation. That's happened to me this week - an unofficial weigh-in showed only slow progress, and a subsequent unofficial weigh-in actually showed no progress, and the temptation then, when you're putting the time in to increase your exercise quotient and very specifically not eating a whole host of things you want to eat, is to feel distinctly pouty and stone-kicky and, not to put too fine a point on it, tantrummy.
I actually expect no progress at all on tomorrow's officiall weigh-in, so any that does come will be a bonus (a psychologically useful thing, this last-minute moving of goalposts to maintain equilibrium in the face of what would otherwise be bad news). The truth, I suspect, is that my body has acclimatized quickly to the things I'm doing, and is sitting there going 'Yeah. What else ya got?'
The additional truth of course is that I've got quite a lot. This has been what I hope it's OK in this absurd Brexitworld we live in to call a Soft Disappearing, at least in terms of its beginnings. I have still yet to clear enough of the carnage of boxes from around my exercise bike to get back on it since this Disappearing began. There have been days this week when deadlines took precedence and I didn't walk. And even on the days when I did, the distance has been sub-10,000 steps (thought I was somewhat heartened to read a news story this week that said the 10,000 step target was pretty much arbitrary).So there are certainly things I can, and will, do to make the Disappearing bite rather harder in the week ahead. But right now, it would be foolish to deny I'm in a bit of a Disappointment Bubble, because almost every time I've tried, I've lost more than this in the first two weeks, and you get used to, and expectant of, that initial bump-down of water-weight to power-surge your ego and push you on.
That hasn't happened yet this time. Perhaps by giving the Disappearing a few more teeth, I can start to impress my system with the fact that this is happening.
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