Okay. The new thoughts are these:
1. Set and stick to daily targets. Use deficit not intake, since you know this works better.
2. Low carb. Not crazily, but let's ease into it.
3. Exercise. Every day. Without fail. Lots. And enjoy it. Remember the frustration of injury or bad weather? Make the most of what you got.
4. No bingeing. This should go without saying, but needs to be said, just so you stop and THINK.
5. Work on strength and flexibility.
6. Weigh in once a week. Restart charts and tickers. Stop the self-delusions.
7. Water. Water water water water water.
8. There is no number 8.
9. Water.
10. Cheer the fuck up.
Sunday, 22 July 2012
Monday, 16 July 2012
My favourite hobby
Talking to myself.
Dear Mind,
Hi. Hello there. This is your Body speaking. Yes, I do have a right to do that, so quit your bitching and listen for a change.
I know we're not great friends. I know there've been times when you've hated me almost as much as you hate yourself. I know you know every single one of my imperfections. I know you've stressed me and changed me and put all your will into trying to morph me into something to your tastes.
But can you just give it a rest for a minute and listen to me? I'm not just a wobbly sack of matter for you to jaunt around in. I'm an incredibly complex and sophisticated organism with abilities and talents and opportunities that many people would envy. I am a beautiful work of nature.
No, shut up, I don't care if you don't want me to use that word, you don't get a say in this. I'M the one talking here, so just pipe down okay?
It always has to be about you, doesn't it? I just have to sit here while you prod me and poke me, while you deny me food or stuff god knows what down my throat, while you hurt me or let others do so, while you criticise me, while you wish me away, while you constantly try to hide me, while you act like I'm shameful and wrong.
Just shut the fuck up for once. You pretend it's all for my own good, but it's not. It's always about you. Do you ever stop for a moment to think that maybe I have wants and needs that you should be paying attention to? Do you ever consider that if you actually took care of me and gave me the help and the attention and the nutrition that I needed and devoted some time to anticipating just what those needs might be, then we might actually achieve some sort of healthy equilibrium here? If you were actually doing some fucking work to figure out what was best for me, instead of being a selfish, domineering, parasitic, self-destructive maw, grasping with broken fingernails after control at any cost?
Something you desperately need to learn, and never fucking have learned, is that THIS ISN'T ALL ABOUT YOU.
Do you have any idea how amazing I am? How many things I could do, how many places I could go, how much life I could live if you just let me? If you just focused on something other than yourself for a change.
Fuck's sake, you're not stupid. You know the talents I have, you know the pleasure I can give to myself and other people, you know how my presence can make people smile, you know how these hands can create things that amaze them, you know how far these legs can carry us, you know every beautiful thing these eyes have seen, and every blisteringly-raw emotion that has turned this jumble of bone, nerve, muscle, skin, and sinew in to a trembling wreck. I am so much more than my imperfections. Would you just stop to remember that once in a while?
We could be the greatest of allies, if only you would stop being my worst enemy.
Sincerely,
Your Body
Dear Mind,
Hi. Hello there. This is your Body speaking. Yes, I do have a right to do that, so quit your bitching and listen for a change.
I know we're not great friends. I know there've been times when you've hated me almost as much as you hate yourself. I know you know every single one of my imperfections. I know you've stressed me and changed me and put all your will into trying to morph me into something to your tastes.
But can you just give it a rest for a minute and listen to me? I'm not just a wobbly sack of matter for you to jaunt around in. I'm an incredibly complex and sophisticated organism with abilities and talents and opportunities that many people would envy. I am a beautiful work of nature.
No, shut up, I don't care if you don't want me to use that word, you don't get a say in this. I'M the one talking here, so just pipe down okay?
It always has to be about you, doesn't it? I just have to sit here while you prod me and poke me, while you deny me food or stuff god knows what down my throat, while you hurt me or let others do so, while you criticise me, while you wish me away, while you constantly try to hide me, while you act like I'm shameful and wrong.
Just shut the fuck up for once. You pretend it's all for my own good, but it's not. It's always about you. Do you ever stop for a moment to think that maybe I have wants and needs that you should be paying attention to? Do you ever consider that if you actually took care of me and gave me the help and the attention and the nutrition that I needed and devoted some time to anticipating just what those needs might be, then we might actually achieve some sort of healthy equilibrium here? If you were actually doing some fucking work to figure out what was best for me, instead of being a selfish, domineering, parasitic, self-destructive maw, grasping with broken fingernails after control at any cost?
Something you desperately need to learn, and never fucking have learned, is that THIS ISN'T ALL ABOUT YOU.
Do you have any idea how amazing I am? How many things I could do, how many places I could go, how much life I could live if you just let me? If you just focused on something other than yourself for a change.
Fuck's sake, you're not stupid. You know the talents I have, you know the pleasure I can give to myself and other people, you know how my presence can make people smile, you know how these hands can create things that amaze them, you know how far these legs can carry us, you know every beautiful thing these eyes have seen, and every blisteringly-raw emotion that has turned this jumble of bone, nerve, muscle, skin, and sinew in to a trembling wreck. I am so much more than my imperfections. Would you just stop to remember that once in a while?
We could be the greatest of allies, if only you would stop being my worst enemy.
Sincerely,
Your Body
Saturday, 14 July 2012
Sweet dreams are made of this
I dreamed of Fiona again last night. Both Fionas. Because my mind is that clever, and that fucked up.
Christ, I know what I need right now. Every fibre of me knows.
It's all right though. I have yoga for calm. I have sprinting for kicks. It's sort of the same.
Apart from not being by any stretch of the imagination the same.
Christ, I know what I need right now. Every fibre of me knows.
It's all right though. I have yoga for calm. I have sprinting for kicks. It's sort of the same.
Apart from not being by any stretch of the imagination the same.
Thursday, 12 July 2012
Time flies like an apple
I have a slightly obsessive sense of time. I count the days to and from things. I see the weekly, monthly, yearly anniversaries of things that aren't even that important. I mark time passing by comparison with what I've done at that time on other days. I have the hours of the day, the days of the week, the months of the year, and the years of my life spread out in some kind of timeline chart in my head, covered with events and memories like post-it-notes.
It's a month ago today that I woke up later than 9am and actually felt, for the first time in months and months, as though I'd slept as much as my body wanted to. I kinda feel like I've spent a lot of the past month sleeping, but then there are worse ways to spend my time.
Two weeks ago today, I was eating tapas in a city full of strangers, proving to myself that I could be myself, on my own, in the unknown, that I could stand the heat, that I could forgo all my beloved privacy and just be out there, in the world, in the moment, eating peaches in the gardens of Moorish palaces and getting lost down narrow streets in the warm night-time.
A week ago today, I met up with a friend who I hadn't seen in two years. She commented on the weight loss, and asked questions, and instead of evading and demuring as I do so very very well, I actually had an open and moderately honest conversation about it. I say moderately honest, because whilst I hinted that it hadn't exactly all been plain sailing and talked a little about my history and issues surrounding myself and my weight, spilling all the beans would have been too much for her, and too much for me, and to be honest the occasion wasn't right, nor do I think our friendship really close enough, for too many beans to be spilled. I may be prying myself open but in so many ways I'm still a shy little secret-keeper, and there's only so much I can handle showing other people of myself. But it was progress.
Today is my 9th completely binge-free day this month. Somehow, I've found my calm again. I'm back in that place where I know I have control, because hey- it's only me, and if I don't have control over me, who does? I can do whatever the hell I want, and if I want to lose weight then I can - not because I have to meet some arbitrary number goal, but because it will help me be happier in my own skin. I can plan and log and control what I eat, but because I enjoy knowing exactly what I'm eating, enjoy planning out my meals, enjoy taking the time to make myself healthy and interesting meals that I can take time over eating and that will satisfy and nourish, instead of because I feel I have to restrict myself as a punishment or to stop myself bingeing. I will make sure I get my exercise, not because I neet to rack up massive deficits or because it's a punishment for over-eating or a way to earn food, but because I love it. Because walking gives me the time to think, to talk to myself, to take myself wherever I want to go. Because running makes me feel fantastic, as though I can achieve all the things I'd never thought I would, as though no one can hold me down. Because doing those push-ups makes me feel strong. Because the burn and the trembling and the aches in my muscles are like a balm to my anxious, doubting, self-critical little mind. They're a 'fuck you' to the bastard mentality in me that tells me all the time that I can't, that I'm weak and pathetic and worthless. They're my body fucking singing.
It's a month ago today that I woke up later than 9am and actually felt, for the first time in months and months, as though I'd slept as much as my body wanted to. I kinda feel like I've spent a lot of the past month sleeping, but then there are worse ways to spend my time.
Two weeks ago today, I was eating tapas in a city full of strangers, proving to myself that I could be myself, on my own, in the unknown, that I could stand the heat, that I could forgo all my beloved privacy and just be out there, in the world, in the moment, eating peaches in the gardens of Moorish palaces and getting lost down narrow streets in the warm night-time.
A week ago today, I met up with a friend who I hadn't seen in two years. She commented on the weight loss, and asked questions, and instead of evading and demuring as I do so very very well, I actually had an open and moderately honest conversation about it. I say moderately honest, because whilst I hinted that it hadn't exactly all been plain sailing and talked a little about my history and issues surrounding myself and my weight, spilling all the beans would have been too much for her, and too much for me, and to be honest the occasion wasn't right, nor do I think our friendship really close enough, for too many beans to be spilled. I may be prying myself open but in so many ways I'm still a shy little secret-keeper, and there's only so much I can handle showing other people of myself. But it was progress.
Today is my 9th completely binge-free day this month. Somehow, I've found my calm again. I'm back in that place where I know I have control, because hey- it's only me, and if I don't have control over me, who does? I can do whatever the hell I want, and if I want to lose weight then I can - not because I have to meet some arbitrary number goal, but because it will help me be happier in my own skin. I can plan and log and control what I eat, but because I enjoy knowing exactly what I'm eating, enjoy planning out my meals, enjoy taking the time to make myself healthy and interesting meals that I can take time over eating and that will satisfy and nourish, instead of because I feel I have to restrict myself as a punishment or to stop myself bingeing. I will make sure I get my exercise, not because I neet to rack up massive deficits or because it's a punishment for over-eating or a way to earn food, but because I love it. Because walking gives me the time to think, to talk to myself, to take myself wherever I want to go. Because running makes me feel fantastic, as though I can achieve all the things I'd never thought I would, as though no one can hold me down. Because doing those push-ups makes me feel strong. Because the burn and the trembling and the aches in my muscles are like a balm to my anxious, doubting, self-critical little mind. They're a 'fuck you' to the bastard mentality in me that tells me all the time that I can't, that I'm weak and pathetic and worthless. They're my body fucking singing.
Sunday, 8 July 2012
Days
Some days I hate my body.
Some days I hate my mind.
And some days I just hate myself.
These are failure days, lonely days, doubt days, nightmare days, neverending days, flashback days, weak days.
These are biro and salt water days.
These are chipped nail polish days.
These are silence days.
These are blurring, shaking, stinging days.
These are the days that sneak up on me when I least expect it.
These are the days I know without a doubt are coming.
These days are the ones I have to fight against.
Because these days are given to me by myself.
These days are the reason why I have to keep going.
They are the reason I have to make myself strong.
They are the reason I have to make myself brave.
These are the days that remind me what I'm doing all this for...
...so that one day, these days will be the days where I love myself.
Some days I hate my mind.
And some days I just hate myself.
These are failure days, lonely days, doubt days, nightmare days, neverending days, flashback days, weak days.
These are biro and salt water days.
These are chipped nail polish days.
These are silence days.
These are blurring, shaking, stinging days.
These are the days that sneak up on me when I least expect it.
These are the days I know without a doubt are coming.
These days are the ones I have to fight against.
Because these days are given to me by myself.
These days are the reason why I have to keep going.
They are the reason I have to make myself strong.
They are the reason I have to make myself brave.
These are the days that remind me what I'm doing all this for...
...so that one day, these days will be the days where I love myself.
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
This is how I remind myself
A while ago I started taking pictures of some of my meals, partly because it gave me the excuse to be pretentious in making them look slightly artful and partly because it was another good way to keep a record of what I was eating.
Now that I need to be getting back into good habits, I want to remind myself of what I used to eat, of how much good food I can eat for reasonable calories, and how it doesn't have to be boring or restrictive.
So, dear self, welcome to your catalogue of eats. Get excited.
Prawn stir-fry, with onions, mushrooms, broccoli, cabbage, carrot, green beans, spring onion, garlic, soy and sweet chili. 341 calories, 24g protein, 11g fibre.
Back bacon, egg, mushrooms, courgettes, with cherry tomatoes and baked beans. 286 calories, 23g protein, 4g fibre.
Smoked salmon on brown soda bread with a poached egg, courgettes and asparagus. 296 calories, 21g protein, 6g fibre.
Porridge with skimmed milk, brown sugar, frozen raspberries, and fat-free yogurt. And a strawberry. 270 calories, 12g protein, 6g fibre.
Conclusions:
I need frozen raspberries back in my life.
There is a slight chance I eat too much broccoli.
There are no excuses for not sticking to calorie targets.
Monday, 2 July 2012
Little victories.
Today's word is success.
It's been so long since I've had a single day without bingeing or overeating. So long since I've set a calorie limit and actually stuck to it. So long that it actually feels like a big deal that I managed it today.
I'm so out of practice at being strict with myself. I'm so out of practice at eating a reasonable amount. My body's out of practice too... man, I was hungry today.
But I know I can do it. I've always known, actually. I just got lazy. Well, lazy no more. Habits are wonderful things, and I need my habits back.
Not only for the sake of my waistline, but for the sake of my own sanity.
Today was a good day. Today was a success.
It's been so long since I've had a single day without bingeing or overeating. So long since I've set a calorie limit and actually stuck to it. So long that it actually feels like a big deal that I managed it today.
I'm so out of practice at being strict with myself. I'm so out of practice at eating a reasonable amount. My body's out of practice too... man, I was hungry today.
But I know I can do it. I've always known, actually. I just got lazy. Well, lazy no more. Habits are wonderful things, and I need my habits back.
Not only for the sake of my waistline, but for the sake of my own sanity.
Today was a good day. Today was a success.
Sunday, 1 July 2012
Life. Blood.
The topic for today is blood.
On Wednesday, I got my first period since the New Year. On the whole I was relieved by this, by the proof that I haven't completely bollocksed up my body. It might sound strange to say, but it kinda felt like life again. That's what blood is, after all, isn't it? Life. It felt like that, I guess because I was already buzzing with adrenaline and floating around in 40 degree heat.
Admittedly, I feel less rejevenated and buzzy and full of life, now.
Right now, I feel like I have a six-month-build-up of hormones shattering around my tired little body.
Right now, I am crying at everything and attempting to eat the house.
I am so, so exhausted.
This will sod off soon, right?
On Wednesday, I got my first period since the New Year. On the whole I was relieved by this, by the proof that I haven't completely bollocksed up my body. It might sound strange to say, but it kinda felt like life again. That's what blood is, after all, isn't it? Life. It felt like that, I guess because I was already buzzing with adrenaline and floating around in 40 degree heat.
Admittedly, I feel less rejevenated and buzzy and full of life, now.
Right now, I feel like I have a six-month-build-up of hormones shattering around my tired little body.
Right now, I am crying at everything and attempting to eat the house.
I am so, so exhausted.
This will sod off soon, right?
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