Sigh...
And so it begins in earnest. The first day left to my own devices since I restarted. This is the tricky part, because in essence, you can know you're only battling yourself as strongly as you like, but the urge to circumvent perceived authority is always a strong one. That means you externalise the locus of "authority" - you make "other people" the "authority" figure that's "imposing" behavioural restraint on you, and the instinct says "They're not here any more, go wild and craaaaazzzzeeee!!!"
This, of course, is the peril of working from home and trying to Disappear. That urge to externalise the "authority" is vast and great, and in the silence of your own home, it has nothing to counterbalance it...except you.
In some ways of course, this is the central challenge of working from home at all. There's technically nothing to stop me playing Candy Crush all day if I wanted to. Nothing except me. Similarly, there's nothing to stop me (at 10.26, mind you, this thought is going through my brain), from having a massive breakfast, popping out for a secret pizza, or skipping across the road to the chippy at lunchtime for a complete carbfest.
Except me. And, now that I've told you as much, you lot.
This is possibly something I've been missing for a while, the idea that other people know what I'm doing. So now I've told you about the urge that's nipping at my head even as we speak, hopefully it will strengthen my conviction not to give into it. Certainly didn't have a massive breakfast - three Weetabix and a banana, plus a mug of coffee. And even as I was doling out the three little husks of dehydrated carbohydrate, the thought came to me - "There's no-one to stop you having six, you know?"
Getting back into the swing of being your OWN authority-figure, of regulating based not on the most you could potentially have, but on what you actually need, is a thing which clearly takes some getting used to again. But so far at least, so good. Found my way to the exercise bike last night, and hope to jump on it at some point today inbetween deadlines.
Important to recognise the Call of the Chippy Lunch though. It sings to me, early, on a whiff of grease and vinegar. But hopefully in recognising it, and naming it, I can power down the urge.
More news as we get it...
Monday, 3 March 2014
Sunday, 2 March 2014
The Mexican Wave
So, let's see. On the day you restart Disappearing, what's the best option for lunch?
Protein and salad?
Soup and bread?
Deep fried Mars bars and chips?
How would you rate Mexican?
Went to Cardiff with d for her "Life In The UK" test. We found the place (thanks to advice from a complete stranger - we were heading in completely the wrong direction, cos after all, it was me and a map), then went to a nearby Starbucks, which it turned out had opened for business just about three hours before.
The test gives you 45 minutes to answer 24 questions.
d was done in about 45 seconds.
She aced the thing - she now knows more about the Battle of Bannockburn, the struggle of the Suffragettes, the Scottish judicial system and the Patron Saint of Wales than anyone else you know, and is officially Clever As Hell. (Hmm - note to self: if David Cameron fails in his increasingly desperate moves to get Scotland to stick with the rest of the UK, will all the Scottish questions have to be taken out of the test? And will there be a special "Life In Fuckin' Scotland, By The Way" test for those who want to settle north of the border?)
In celebration, we went for lunch, and decided to go Mexican. Whether this means anything or not, I don't know, but neither of us could finish our lunch - so technically, it wasn't that big a meal, though it was heavy on the cheese. Didn't eat anything for the rest of the day, as we were both too full.
Today was Ma's birthday and we took her out for lunch - good hearty fare - in my case, soup and a brisket. A few hours later, I succumbed to the eternal maternal pressure, and let her feed me something else - though I managed to eschew chocolatey stuff and ice cream in favour of the positively self-flagellating choice of a bowl of assorted fruit. Not sure what it was about the way d cut the stuff though, but it was amazing - like a salad, but...y'know, fun.
Still haven't done any particular exercise since restarting, but that'll come tomorrow, when I try and excavate the exercise bike.
For now though, all is grooviness and Mexican waves for d, as we go forward towards citizenship.
Citizenship and Disappearing. Oh, one more note - big thanks to every bugger who saw the post on Facebook yesterday and gave me such a groovy welcome back. Fun!
Protein and salad?
Soup and bread?
Deep fried Mars bars and chips?
How would you rate Mexican?
Went to Cardiff with d for her "Life In The UK" test. We found the place (thanks to advice from a complete stranger - we were heading in completely the wrong direction, cos after all, it was me and a map), then went to a nearby Starbucks, which it turned out had opened for business just about three hours before.
The test gives you 45 minutes to answer 24 questions.
d was done in about 45 seconds.
She aced the thing - she now knows more about the Battle of Bannockburn, the struggle of the Suffragettes, the Scottish judicial system and the Patron Saint of Wales than anyone else you know, and is officially Clever As Hell. (Hmm - note to self: if David Cameron fails in his increasingly desperate moves to get Scotland to stick with the rest of the UK, will all the Scottish questions have to be taken out of the test? And will there be a special "Life In Fuckin' Scotland, By The Way" test for those who want to settle north of the border?)
In celebration, we went for lunch, and decided to go Mexican. Whether this means anything or not, I don't know, but neither of us could finish our lunch - so technically, it wasn't that big a meal, though it was heavy on the cheese. Didn't eat anything for the rest of the day, as we were both too full.
Today was Ma's birthday and we took her out for lunch - good hearty fare - in my case, soup and a brisket. A few hours later, I succumbed to the eternal maternal pressure, and let her feed me something else - though I managed to eschew chocolatey stuff and ice cream in favour of the positively self-flagellating choice of a bowl of assorted fruit. Not sure what it was about the way d cut the stuff though, but it was amazing - like a salad, but...y'know, fun.
Still haven't done any particular exercise since restarting, but that'll come tomorrow, when I try and excavate the exercise bike.
For now though, all is grooviness and Mexican waves for d, as we go forward towards citizenship.
Citizenship and Disappearing. Oh, one more note - big thanks to every bugger who saw the post on Facebook yesterday and gave me such a groovy welcome back. Fun!
Saturday, 1 March 2014
The Flabby Phoenix Necessity
Well, this sucks.
Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, daleks and cybermen, and welcome to a moment of almost complete defeat.
This is Tony, your once-Disappearing Man, having, over the course of about a year, managed to re-appear to a quite staggering degree.
Weigh-in this morning - yes, I know it's Saturday, but it's Restarting Day, so you get a weigh-in - was a thoroughly depressing 19st 2.75 lbs. That's 268.76 pounds, for the Americans, and nigh on 122 Kg for whoever else there is. I've managed to climb my way back to within 20 lbs of where I was when I was peeing blood, having hospitalising heart issues and genuinely considering a gastric band.
This time, I don't have time for flim-flammery - there is no gastric band in my future. It's down to me.
Just, of course, as the re-Appearance has been. If I look back over the last year, one thing is clear - you don't re-Appear to the level that I have if you have a normal relationship with food. There has been hiding, there have been secret binges, there has been a kind of dedication to putting on weight irrespective of pleasure (in some bizarre situations, I've pretty much force-fed myself), and clearly this has to stop.
So here we are, on St David's Day, re-starting. There's not the sense of ceremony there was the first time, if I'm honest - I don't think my brain has flipped its switch into Disappearing Mode to help me, particularly, though I don't feel the need to force-feed right now. The trick of course will be to not give into it when I do, but to establish good habits, rather than destructive ones, again.
Oh, two things - yes, I understand of course that the last year proves very clearly that all the Disappearing in the world hasn't "cured" me. There are issues in my history that make fatness comfortable, and something in me that dries me towards it, irrespective of my conscious desire to not be this way. Waah waaah, we all have issues, and I'm no different. The point of Disappearing was always to impose the conscious will over the subconscious desire for self-destruction, and remake myself in my own consciously-desired image. That's what starts again today.
And let me be very clear - some of you who know me closely understand that I'm trying to take a year off personal social media. It's one of a series of things I've called "The Year of Living Beeblebrox" - doing new things, or doing things properly, just to break moulds in my life. I'll be honest with you - that's not going terribly well, generally. But the break from personal social media has been fine. Been a relief, to be honest.
But something happened recently - I realised a thing. As you may or may not know, I have a day-job, and I have a business (called Jefferson Franklin). I have seldom taken any day job seriously, because I've always thought, to some extent, that that meant I'd be taking life too seriously.
But Jefferson...that I take seriously. More seriously than my day-job probably. More seriously than my writing, and certainly of late, more seriously than my Disappearing. Which is interesting, because Jefferson, of all the parts of my life, is currently the most successful.
Funny, that...
So perhaps this isn't the Year of Living Beeblebrox, after all. Perhaps this should really be the Year of Living Jefferson. The year of taking myself (just a little!) seriously, in work, and business, and writing, and Disappearing. Perhaps we should see what happens then.
So, while I will still generally be absent from personal social media this year, I AM going to go back to posting links every day to this blog on Facebook. All part of the work of the year. If you don't like it, sue me.
Just four stone separate me from where I was entirely comfortable. Five separate me from where I imagine I'd feel even better. So what's goal 1? Well, clearly, when I started out the Disappearing the first time, by the time I got to 19st 2.75, I'd lost my first stone, and my next goal was to "see an 18". I'll be honest with you, seeing an 18 holds no thrill for me this time round. I won't really feel like I'm making any progress till I at least see a 17 on the Nazi Scales. So this time, that's goal one. 17st 13.
And how to get there? Simply - no desserts, no cream, no sugar, no alcohol, limited fat, limited carb, more protein, more portion control, and more exercise. I'm re-organising my office at the minute (it's taken weeks so far), and the exercise bike is a little unreachable. But by Monday that will have changed, so there'll be biking in my future. Biking, discipline, self-control and progress.
Other news - big day to begin this re-Disappearance - we're off to Cardiff in a minute, as d has her "Life In The UK" test to take, preparatory to applying for Dual Citizenship. I of course...am going to Starbucks.
Here we go then. Let's make some progress, shall we? Welcome back, O Disappearing Chorus!
Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, daleks and cybermen, and welcome to a moment of almost complete defeat.
This is Tony, your once-Disappearing Man, having, over the course of about a year, managed to re-appear to a quite staggering degree.
Weigh-in this morning - yes, I know it's Saturday, but it's Restarting Day, so you get a weigh-in - was a thoroughly depressing 19st 2.75 lbs. That's 268.76 pounds, for the Americans, and nigh on 122 Kg for whoever else there is. I've managed to climb my way back to within 20 lbs of where I was when I was peeing blood, having hospitalising heart issues and genuinely considering a gastric band.
This time, I don't have time for flim-flammery - there is no gastric band in my future. It's down to me.
Just, of course, as the re-Appearance has been. If I look back over the last year, one thing is clear - you don't re-Appear to the level that I have if you have a normal relationship with food. There has been hiding, there have been secret binges, there has been a kind of dedication to putting on weight irrespective of pleasure (in some bizarre situations, I've pretty much force-fed myself), and clearly this has to stop.
So here we are, on St David's Day, re-starting. There's not the sense of ceremony there was the first time, if I'm honest - I don't think my brain has flipped its switch into Disappearing Mode to help me, particularly, though I don't feel the need to force-feed right now. The trick of course will be to not give into it when I do, but to establish good habits, rather than destructive ones, again.
Oh, two things - yes, I understand of course that the last year proves very clearly that all the Disappearing in the world hasn't "cured" me. There are issues in my history that make fatness comfortable, and something in me that dries me towards it, irrespective of my conscious desire to not be this way. Waah waaah, we all have issues, and I'm no different. The point of Disappearing was always to impose the conscious will over the subconscious desire for self-destruction, and remake myself in my own consciously-desired image. That's what starts again today.
And let me be very clear - some of you who know me closely understand that I'm trying to take a year off personal social media. It's one of a series of things I've called "The Year of Living Beeblebrox" - doing new things, or doing things properly, just to break moulds in my life. I'll be honest with you - that's not going terribly well, generally. But the break from personal social media has been fine. Been a relief, to be honest.
But something happened recently - I realised a thing. As you may or may not know, I have a day-job, and I have a business (called Jefferson Franklin). I have seldom taken any day job seriously, because I've always thought, to some extent, that that meant I'd be taking life too seriously.
But Jefferson...that I take seriously. More seriously than my day-job probably. More seriously than my writing, and certainly of late, more seriously than my Disappearing. Which is interesting, because Jefferson, of all the parts of my life, is currently the most successful.
Funny, that...
So perhaps this isn't the Year of Living Beeblebrox, after all. Perhaps this should really be the Year of Living Jefferson. The year of taking myself (just a little!) seriously, in work, and business, and writing, and Disappearing. Perhaps we should see what happens then.
So, while I will still generally be absent from personal social media this year, I AM going to go back to posting links every day to this blog on Facebook. All part of the work of the year. If you don't like it, sue me.
Just four stone separate me from where I was entirely comfortable. Five separate me from where I imagine I'd feel even better. So what's goal 1? Well, clearly, when I started out the Disappearing the first time, by the time I got to 19st 2.75, I'd lost my first stone, and my next goal was to "see an 18". I'll be honest with you, seeing an 18 holds no thrill for me this time round. I won't really feel like I'm making any progress till I at least see a 17 on the Nazi Scales. So this time, that's goal one. 17st 13.
And how to get there? Simply - no desserts, no cream, no sugar, no alcohol, limited fat, limited carb, more protein, more portion control, and more exercise. I'm re-organising my office at the minute (it's taken weeks so far), and the exercise bike is a little unreachable. But by Monday that will have changed, so there'll be biking in my future. Biking, discipline, self-control and progress.
Other news - big day to begin this re-Disappearance - we're off to Cardiff in a minute, as d has her "Life In The UK" test to take, preparatory to applying for Dual Citizenship. I of course...am going to Starbucks.
Here we go then. Let's make some progress, shall we? Welcome back, O Disappearing Chorus!
Saturday, 1 February 2014
The Mojo Misplacement
Ello?
Anyone still here?
Ahem...I've been a bit of a numpty.
Since March 2012, I've managed to pretty much comprehensively undo all the good work of the Disappearing Man. Well, nearly all. As I sit here now, it's 4.39 in the morning on the 1st of February, and last Tuesday (oh yes, still weighing on a Tuesday), I turned the scale at no less than 18st 11 lbs. Less than two stone away from where I was originally, before all the walking and biking and spinning and cake-sniffing and grinding bloody agony of doing it the first time.
This clearly needs to stop.
And so I'm back...from outer space...
I hate being this heavy again. I just hate it. Hate the pictures from our recent holiday in Crete, cos I don't look like the mental image I now have of myself in them. Hate the aches and the pains that are creeping back, the clothes into which I can no longer fit, the image I know people have of me when I look this big. Hate the terror of what it'd doing to my eyes, my feet, my knees, my heart.
So, as I say...here I am again. Feeling rather more humbled in my Disappearing than I ever did before. Care to help a fat old numpty get his mojo back, one more time?
Goal 1: See a 17 on the Nazi Scales again.
Anyone still here?
Ahem...I've been a bit of a numpty.
Since March 2012, I've managed to pretty much comprehensively undo all the good work of the Disappearing Man. Well, nearly all. As I sit here now, it's 4.39 in the morning on the 1st of February, and last Tuesday (oh yes, still weighing on a Tuesday), I turned the scale at no less than 18st 11 lbs. Less than two stone away from where I was originally, before all the walking and biking and spinning and cake-sniffing and grinding bloody agony of doing it the first time.
This clearly needs to stop.
And so I'm back...from outer space...
I hate being this heavy again. I just hate it. Hate the pictures from our recent holiday in Crete, cos I don't look like the mental image I now have of myself in them. Hate the aches and the pains that are creeping back, the clothes into which I can no longer fit, the image I know people have of me when I look this big. Hate the terror of what it'd doing to my eyes, my feet, my knees, my heart.
So, as I say...here I am again. Feeling rather more humbled in my Disappearing than I ever did before. Care to help a fat old numpty get his mojo back, one more time?
Goal 1: See a 17 on the Nazi Scales again.
Wednesday, 13 November 2013
The Year of Living Beeblebrox
Ahem...
Helllooooooo!
I haven't been around here for a while, I know.
Thing is, this blog's been kind of...well if not retired, then at least vaguely superseded.
By this blog - The Year of Living Beeblebrox
Basically, the idea is that since I've now turned 42, my friend Sian and I are going to do 42 new, exciting, or downright stupid things...just to mark the year. One of those in my case is still "lose four stone"!
Things have been going staggeringly badly in Disappearing terms in recent weeks, has to be said. Weighed in this morning at an unconscionable 18 stone 2.25. Unff.
But have just tweaked my goal, so that it's "lose 4 stone 3 pounds by 22nd October 2014 (my 43rd birthday). This would actually put me about half a stone lighter than I've been at any point during the Disappearing. As I have a bunch of followers at this blog (thank you, thank you, thank you one and all...) and, for reasons that will become quickly obvious, abbbbsolutely no bugger's following the new blog, figured it made sense to give a hearty "What Ho!" over here, and ask you, if you want to know how the Disappearing continues, to come and follow me over at the Beeblebrox blog instead.
Thanks folks!
Helllooooooo!
I haven't been around here for a while, I know.
Thing is, this blog's been kind of...well if not retired, then at least vaguely superseded.
By this blog - The Year of Living Beeblebrox
Basically, the idea is that since I've now turned 42, my friend Sian and I are going to do 42 new, exciting, or downright stupid things...just to mark the year. One of those in my case is still "lose four stone"!
Things have been going staggeringly badly in Disappearing terms in recent weeks, has to be said. Weighed in this morning at an unconscionable 18 stone 2.25. Unff.
But have just tweaked my goal, so that it's "lose 4 stone 3 pounds by 22nd October 2014 (my 43rd birthday). This would actually put me about half a stone lighter than I've been at any point during the Disappearing. As I have a bunch of followers at this blog (thank you, thank you, thank you one and all...) and, for reasons that will become quickly obvious, abbbbsolutely no bugger's following the new blog, figured it made sense to give a hearty "What Ho!" over here, and ask you, if you want to know how the Disappearing continues, to come and follow me over at the Beeblebrox blog instead.
Thanks folks!
Tuesday, 8 October 2013
The Farewell Fanfare - 7th October
London today. Nightmare commute home. But viewed the day as a kind of Farewell Tour to all things yummy. Had four Starbucks, mostly of a creamy nature, one cookie, one chunk of mammoth choc-chip shortbread, and...due entirely to the need to have somewhere warm to sit for an hour at Cardiff at 11 o'clock at night, a late night Double Rodeo Meal.
This means that of course, tomorrow's re-inaugural weigh-in is going to be dire, a kind of hangover-cum-punch-in-the-face.
I wish I could say I enjoyed the farewell fanfare more, but to be honest, much like birthdays once you've had four decades of them, I felt I was being decadent and celebrating...more for the look of the thing than for any real enjoyment.
Which I suppose is probably the right mindset in which to embark on the brand new installment of the Disappearing Man tomorrow...
Right?...
This means that of course, tomorrow's re-inaugural weigh-in is going to be dire, a kind of hangover-cum-punch-in-the-face.
I wish I could say I enjoyed the farewell fanfare more, but to be honest, much like birthdays once you've had four decades of them, I felt I was being decadent and celebrating...more for the look of the thing than for any real enjoyment.
Which I suppose is probably the right mindset in which to embark on the brand new installment of the Disappearing Man tomorrow...
Right?...
The Trifle Neccesity - 6th October
Still lurgied. Went to Ma's today for big traditional roast dinner. So far, so filling. Then she brought out dessert.
Desserts, excuse me. Strudel, a whole big trifle, and a whole big put of cream for whipping.
I thought about resisting, and then gave in with what it would be politic to call grace, and accurate to call gluttony.
The thing is, in my mind was the mantra of off kids who grew up in the 70s.
It'll only go to waste if no-one eats it. Followed closely by the number two hit in the psychological charts of the time:
There are people starving in Africa...
How and why this second mantra never translated into the logical further thought - so stop eating everything in sight, ya greedy bastard, I suspect I'll never know, but it's certainly true in my case that the programming of youth was that you finished your plate, both for domestic convenience and wider-scale socio-political responsibility...I ate that trifle for Ethiopia, don'tcha know? I think, in some messed-up dark little part of my brain, I expect smiles and brownie-points from (the let's not forget, stick-bloody-thin) Sir Bob Geldof for this act of demented gluttony...
They always say that inside every fat person, there's a thin person trying to get out. What no bugger tells you is that they're stark raving mad...
Desserts, excuse me. Strudel, a whole big trifle, and a whole big put of cream for whipping.
I thought about resisting, and then gave in with what it would be politic to call grace, and accurate to call gluttony.
The thing is, in my mind was the mantra of off kids who grew up in the 70s.
It'll only go to waste if no-one eats it. Followed closely by the number two hit in the psychological charts of the time:
There are people starving in Africa...
How and why this second mantra never translated into the logical further thought - so stop eating everything in sight, ya greedy bastard, I suspect I'll never know, but it's certainly true in my case that the programming of youth was that you finished your plate, both for domestic convenience and wider-scale socio-political responsibility...I ate that trifle for Ethiopia, don'tcha know? I think, in some messed-up dark little part of my brain, I expect smiles and brownie-points from (the let's not forget, stick-bloody-thin) Sir Bob Geldof for this act of demented gluttony...
They always say that inside every fat person, there's a thin person trying to get out. What no bugger tells you is that they're stark raving mad...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)