Official Weigh Day

So I saw a very welcome 67.4kg today on the scale, this being ‘Official Weigh Day’ (in my head there are trumpets sounding). I was VERY pleased with that because when I got up this morning my body felt so heavy and lumbering that I was convinced I was a good kilo heavier. (I don’t know what it is with me at the moment but I am SO tired all the time and sleeping like the dead) So I sort of limped/stumbled towards the bathroom this morning all ready to be thoroughly annoyed but it appears that I lost 200g since yesterday. I have now lost 5.4kg (11.9lb) in 8 weeks and feeling pretty fricking good about that. It means that I only have half a kilo to go to see 66 on the scale (it will be 66.9 but still). That means I will have nearly made it to my target!! I am so excited I could SPEW. Actually, that might help.

So I’m on track for a low point day again today. It seems I have left the horrors of the earlier part of the week (where I was hungry ALL THE TIME) up north, thank god. I have 11.5pts saved this week for my Brighton outing tomorrow. That should be fine as it will just be 1 pub lunch so not too disastrous – especially if I can order a baked potato. I have work drinks tonight but the wine is usually very average so will limit myself to one glass (2 at the very most) and not drink tonight when I get home.

I am wearing my hammer pants (ie my size 14 Black monsoon pants that are really more of a size 16) today and they are officially too baggy for future use. I wore them yesterday as well, freshly washed and they were loose but not desperately so. But today even G confirmed I was looking a little shabby. So unless my other Monsoon size 14s fit when I try them on on Sunday (oh dear GOD please let them fit), I have exactly one pair of pants that are wearable – my black Zara suit pants (I should add that I in fact have two black Zara suits, one ‘Zara Woman’ size 14 and the other ‘Zara Basic’ size 14. The Zara Woman is the suit that I can now get in to that I couldn’t get in to at the start of the year and the Zara Basic is more like a size 12 that is still not wearable but the style much more flattering when it does fit. I will call them ZW and ZB to differentiate as otherwise in description they are exactly the same).

Right, back to resumed programming, where was I? Oh yes, I only have my ZW suit pants that I can wear. Which begs the question, what the HELL was I wearing on the way up? Once I had grown out of my ZB pants (before which were my Zambesi pants – too much clothing starting with ‘Z’ I know) I must have only had my ZW pants to wear. Did I have another pair of trousers that I have forgotten about?? I definitely threw out my two pairs of Gap long and lean size 10 (ie UK size 14) jeans because I had worn them out in the inner thigh area but I can’t remember throwing out any work style trousers that I would have been wearing. God, I know I don’t really care about my appearance when I’m bigger and just wear whatever fits me, but was I really wearing the same pair of trousers every day, week in week out? If so, I can’t have been at this size very long because I’m sure I would have noticed. How very disturbing.

Right, so long story short, I have exactly one pair of trousers that will fit me. I think the Wallis size 16 petite stripey trousers (the gunt pants) will be going the way of these monsoon trousers as they really are quite baggy too. And very unflattering as they balloon out in weird places. So I guess I’m going to need to go shopping and get another couple of pairs of trousers to see me through the next 5kg. This makes me anxious actually as more than once I have realised I have gotten too skinny for a pair of, say, size 16 trousers so off I go, congratulating myself all the way to the clothes shop, merrily pick out a selection of size 14 trousers to go try on, only to discover that none of the buggers fit. More than once that has happened to me. Leaving me with the inescapable conclusion that I am STILL, despite often months of dieting, a size fricking 16. Soul destroying is what it is. So I am loathe to put myself through it, but I can’t keep looking like a tramp with an eating disorder at the office.

So for yet another reason, I desperately hope that those monsoon trousers fit. Because in the back of my mind, as much as I am congratulating myself for getting close to wearing them, I am still hating myself knowing that they are a SIZE FRICKING 14. I shouldn’t have to be so desperate for them to fit – they should be falling off me. I should be wearing a size 10, not a size 14. I still have SO far to go. The same fricking road to travel as I’ve travelled three times before. WTF? I’m still working my way through my disastrous diet past but will analyse that in the future. I am finding that just writing stuff down helps me see things way more clearly than letting thoughts all whirl about in my head.

Right, before the idea that I might still in fact be a size 16 overwhelms the hell out of me and sends me careening towards the kitchen cupboard packed full of crisps (relax, I’m at work – do you think I’m stupid enough to have crisps in my own kitchen cupboard?), I’m going to pause, take a deep breath and go fill up my water bottle.

LATER: The day in Brighton now looks to be in jeopardy thanks to G’s work. He may have to go in tomorrow and as the friends we are seeing in Brighton are G’s friends, I won’t be going by myself. On the one hand that disappoints me as I was quite looking forward to it and I have all those points saved up (which I REALLY could have used earlier in the week). But on the other hand, I am thinking ‘woohoo, I can go to the gym and have a healthy low point lunch and not have to expend any actual energy and just lie around on the sofa and watch Scrubs all day’. If we don’t end up going tomorrow, I will definitely be gymming it up both days this weekend which will make me feel way less anxious about the social activities in the week ahead. That would make me feel more relaxed generally and the ‘oh what’s the point if I’m eating out twice this week then all is lost, where are the chocolate digestives’ thoughts won’t be bouncing around in my skull all week.

I actually hate that teetering feeling more than I hate being hungry or feeling deprived. I use so much energy constantly fighting with myself about whether or not just to eat a bag of crisps or go hell for leather on a box of celebrations. I’m not happy either way – if I succumb then I HATE myself and am filled with regret and disappointment that I caved and of course in my mind if I only hadn’t eaten the loaf of bread and butter I would totally be 55kg at the next weigh in, and so on and so on. If I DON’T succumb then I feel deprived, angry, frustrated, annoyed, antsy, whiny and just generally out of sorts until G will shout at me ‘just eat the damn [insert whatever food I’m obsessing over here].

Its just so exhausting dancing this dance time and time again. This is the first time (well earlier in the week, I’m kind of over it now) since I started this year that I’ve really really struggled. Motivation wise, I’ve been great all along until I got sick last week when I just wanted comfort food dammit but couldn’t QUITE bring myself to go the whole hog and have pie and mash. I’m kind of ok again now that I’m back in London and back to my routine and slowly but surely feeling better. If I could just kick this lethargy though, things would be a lot better. And I have to keep those numbers in my head – only 1.4kg to go before my Boston goal. To put that in perspective, only a few weeks ago I lost 1.3kg in a single WEEK so surely, surely I can do this (not lose 1.4kg in a week, but lose it over the remaining 3 weeks). Dammit I’m doing this, I am not giving up.

The sad thing is in the back of my head I’m already thinking about how I’m going to return from the States 3kg heavier thanks to the gay abandon with which I’m going to treat menu choices over my holiday. I know I’m going to be here again in like 6 weeks, agonisingly losing last week’s weight AGAIN.

So you can’t win really.