You know the moment I’m talking about – when, despite doing well for however long on your eating well and being active goal, you lose any motivation. You get rebellion in its place. Instead of choosing the apple for a snack, you brazenly pick up a chocolate bar a the checkout, knowing that you don’t really need or want it but darn it, you deserve it. You go out for dinner and you deserve to order the massive pasta dish, or chips on the side, or dessert. You’ve been working hard, you deserve it.

And so begins the back slide (no, not backside, although that grows too). You wake up after a big night of eating out and you’re still stuffed, but instead of listening to your body, you keep eating. And who wants to work out on a stuffed belly? Not you, so you take a day off. After all, you deserve it.

Soon enough, you misplace your gym card and your hand weights in front of the TV are gathering dust. Your treat meals go back to being your regular meals and any pretext of deserving it goes out the window.

This usually happens for me after a month because I start seeing scale results quickly as I drop water weight, then start ignoring the scale and focussing on my clothes, which fit so much better. I feel great! So obviously, I lose motivation.

Wha?

Yeah, that makes no sense to me either. Surely when I’m doing well I should be hella motivated? You’d think but alas not. This is the time I have to fight to stay on track, to convince myself that I deserve better than junk food and sitting on the couch, that my body deserves to be active and fed well. Last week was not a good week eating-wise (other than the fact I ate lots of yummy food) and I ended up sitting more than moving, but it’s okay. This week will be better because I’m not letting the motivation drop Have any more of my energy.

I’m trying to focus on following through more this year and actually doing all the things I think of. Like making more friends and going out more. Like exercising more and writing more. Focusing my efforts instead of surfing the web or flicking channels while propped up on the couch. Television can wait. My health can't.

How are you going with your goals so far?

I’ve been focused on weights again after a long time away from the lifting and I’ve also been determined not to get frustrated by slow weight loss. It’s funny how you can know that slow weight loss is normal and that week 2 weight loss never matches week 1. You can know but still want to see the immediate results. As much as I tell The Boy not to get frustrated, I find myself getting frustrated and then get annoyed at getting frustrated. Luckily, I’ve managed to stay pretty much on track for almost a month, so bonus!

I know that I’ve been feeling better and stronger again but I haven’t wanted to shout it from the rooftops yet, since I figured I haven’t lost much yet and it’s not that noticeable. But I was wrong! I had a session with my trainer today and he hasn’t seen me in a month since he’s been away. He immediately noticed that I was stronger and got super excited, pulling over the 12kg kettlebells and 10kg weights instead of the lighter weights he’s used to needing. He kept asking if things were too heavy and I think he was expecting me to complain but I was on fire. Plus he noticed I’d dropped weight and he was massively impressed. I walked out of the session feeling awesomely strong, massively fatigued and tempted to lie down on the side of the road and just sleep.

I didn’t, don’t worry. Instead, I walked/shuffled the 15 minute distance home, munched on a muesli bar and basked in the glow of feeling stronger everyday. Yes, I’m sore and tired and really want to nap but I’ve picked up some freelance work so that’s not on the cards. But I feel awesome and motivated, even if the scale is only moving slowly. Muscles, it’s nice to meet you again!

Image via Wikipedia

I’ve fallen off the wagon big time but I’ve been getting back on slowly.

Since being made redundant, I’ve been going to the gym more regularly and I’m back to lifting weights, however puny these weights are now, since I have no strength left. There’s something rewarding about your muscles being sore after a good workout. And it’s giving me some structure to my days, which is good.

I’m currently the heaviest I’ve been for 4 years and I’m back at my original starting weight when I started this blog. Quite sad about that really. I maintained 20 pounds lost for a good 3 years and then bam! But nevermind, 2012 is going to be a good year.

It’s going to be the year that I get back to regular gym attendance and regular weight lifting.

It’s going to be the year I get back on course with my eating.

It’s also going to be the year that I get back to writing more regularly and focus on the creative side for a bit more. I’ve said this before but I’m determined this year.

I’m also going to be a more regular presence online so be prepared to read more ramblings (if anyone is still actually reading).

I hope 2012 is a good year for everyone. It seems that 2011 was a bit of a joke for many of my friends and I think we’re all due a good year now. You with me?

And it was.

Today, I was made redundant. Come the end of the day on December 16, I will no longer have a job. The first time in my life, I’m losing my job. I know I’m not the first to experience this and I won’t be the last but I could have done without it at all.

I know in my heart that this will lead to bigger and better things. I know that I’ll find something else, be it another full-time role in publishing or something a bit different, because I’m open to something different too. But it’s still really unsettling. I feel like I’ve been hit by a steam-roller. A bit dazed and confused and angry.

I am angry for a lot of reasons. I know that it’s not easy on my bosses. They’re the business owners, this is their dream and it’s falling apart a bit, right in front of them. I feel for them. But I’m still angry that I’m in this position at this time of the year, when jobs are not exactly falling off trees. I have to resign myself to at least 6-8 weeks off work and that makes me angry.

But I’m not wallowing much. I’ve updated my resume and sent it out to a few contacts already and they’re on the job for me . I’ll email a few recruitment agencies in the morning and I’ll find something. I know I will. In the meantime, I’ll keep working (since our collective last day is December 16 for some reason) and writing and cooking and possibly working out (since I really haven’t been doing that much). Hopefully this hit by a truck feeling will go away at some point and the low-level panic of omg I’m unemployed I need a job STAT! will follow shortly. We’re lucky enough not to be in a perilous financial state so I shouldn’t be panicking but I am. It’s low-level but it’s there.

I’ll be all right. I know I will. I will, right?

Part of Operation Pretty:

1. I’ve been wearing my pretty pink skirt that I bought on Friday. It’s one of those ridiculously expensive Metalicus skirts that is one-size-fits-all, which in normal terms would mean one-size-fits-some-who-wear-small-sizes but in this case is really quite amazing. It doesn’t cling at all and I think it’s pretty flattering. At least, it makes me feel unfat and pretty, therefore it’s a winner.
2. Yesterday, after my OMG-I-ATE-ALL-TEH-FOODZ brunch, I went and treated myself to a pedicure. I felt like I should have paid the lovely woman danger money because my feet have not seen a pumice stone in a long time. It’s been winter here and I’m not usually one to treat myself to a pedi during winter. Heck, I’m not usually one to treat myself to a pedi normally. I usually give my feet the once-over, slap on some polish and leave it to grow out for a few months. Yes, I am that person. But not now! Now I have pretty green/blue toenails and smooth feet, all ready for summer sandals.
3. I got dressed up  (in my skirt, natch) and actually put on makeup on a weekend to meet my folks for brunch this morning. It was really nice to feel nice, to treat myself well and know that while I may not be as thin as I’d like to be, I looked as nice as I could on a Sunday morning.

Four ladies and I was the only one to order and eat a full meal.

Now, I realise this may be one of the reasons that I’m feeling fat and unfit and I am focusing on making better choices but dammit, when I’m hungry, I eat. When I order a meal, I eat it and I enjoy it. Every. Single. Bite. I try to choose something off the menu that I know I’ll enjoy because I like to eat. I enjoy good food and good flavours. Love.Them

One ordered an orange juice and a coffee, claiming to have already eaten breakfast. Another ordered a fruit salad and while she finished it and it looked yummy, it was a small fruit salad. Another ordered the same meal I did and left at least half of everything on the plate.

I cleaned the plate. The veggie hash brown? Yum. The spinach and mushrooms were perfect and the poached eggs were, again, PERFECT. I enjoyed every single bite and could have eaten more, but I didn’t.

Honestly, brunch made me sad. Why is it, as women, we’re almost ashamed to have an appetite? Ashamed to enjoy a meal and take pleasure in it. We’re taught that this is a sign of gluttony, that it’s not something to be proud of. People who enjoy their meals that much are stereotypically NOT thin and fit and healthy. And I hate this.

Last week, I caught up with an old school friend who I haven’t seen in over 15 years and she’s painfully thin. I’m sure she’s suffering from anorexia but we didn’t mention the word itself. She’s aware that she’s not healthy and she’s working on changing that but I look at her and I feel sad. She doesn’t see food as pleasure. It’s a way to get herself healthy again but it’s not something to be enjoyed.

I want to be healthy and fit and feel pretty but I also want to savour every bite of food I eat. I want to enjoy the flavours mixing in my mouth. Maybe I’ll always be a little curvaceous because of that but I’d rather that then leaving food on my plate in order to look like I have no appetite.

I feel fat and unfit and unattractive.

It’s got nothing to do with how The Boy makes me feel because he’s awesome but I feel unpretty inside. I don’t feel ugly per se but I don’t feel pretty either.

I don’t feel like I deserve to wear nice clothes because when I go to my wardrobe, nothing looks like it should, like it looks in my head. My hips are wider, my belly is there, my chest strains. So my ‘nice’ clothes are no longer nice.

But shopping when the image in your head does not match the image in the mirror is tough on the psyche. Things that actually don’t look bad still don’t excite me because all I see are HIPS and BELLY and BOOBS. I see a body that should not belong to me. I see a body that I thought I’d said goodbye to many years ago.

I see a neglected, sad body and I don’t see the point in dressing it up. So I walk around in comfy pants and loose tops that do nothing for me but at least hide the softness underneath. I look at pretty shoes and clips for my hair because feet don’t grow and hair clips don’t rely on thin or fat. I pull my hair back and I try as hard as I can to make myself feel pretty with jewellery.

But I still don’t feel pretty.

Today I went shopping and I bought more comfy pants and a tank top. I meandered through stores and touched a few things but tried on very little. Eventually, I bought a dress and a skirt and promised myself I will try feel pretty. I know that I will lose these extra kilos and get myself back but in the meantime, I have to try. Because if I don’t try, I’m not going to get myself back. I’m going to sink further into unprettiness and while I’ll have a killer hair clip collection, it’s not going to help me.

Anyone have any tips for me?

Image via Wikipedia

I’m in a funk. A funky funk funk funk. It’s not a nice place to be but I’m determined not to wallow, as lovely as wallowing sounds.

I’m determined to set myself some goals to get out of this funky funk funk funk. I need out.

Part of my funk is the fact that we’re back in Melbourne (which is a good thing, don’t get me wrong) but it’s being back here and trying to meld my old self with my new self that’s proving a challenge. I’m working out which of my old friendships are still good for me and which are toxic (and boy, are some of them toxic) and I’m trying to consolidate the old with the new. I’m also back working at my old job and dealing with the same issues that were there 4 years ago. Part of me knew that would be the case and I don’t feel like I have a right to complain about that. Which makes it hard when all I want to do right now is WHINGE and WHINE and COMPLAIN and STAMP MY FEET.

Ahem.

Apparently that’s not productive or something. Whatever.

So instead, I’m setting some goals in the hope that focusing on those goals will take my mind off of being tired (I’m calling about the blood tests tomorrow), being frustrated and being in a funky funk funk funk.

1. Complete my uni assignments this weekend and give myself time to edit and proof and not have to rush during the week.
2. Get to the gym more (I spent the evening on the couch with The Boy instead. It was good to wallow for a bit) since part of my funk is that I’ve gained weight and feel unfit and fat.
3. Work on a plan to change jobs or have a different focus to my job by July 2012. That will be just over a year in this job and I can focus on that when I get frustrated. By that time, maybe we’ll have decided to have kids, maybe I’ll be happy there, maybe I’ll forget all about this funk. But for now, having that goal will be good.
4. Blog more often and write every day. I have to work on this goal as it’s part of my longterm plan but I’m procrastinating for no reason at all. It’s all about habit.
5. Once uni is over, I’d like to make at least 2 new recipes a week. I have a ton of cookbooks that I should actually USE and they’re all healthy options, which would make us eat better, instead of having toasted cheese sandwiches for dinner.
6. Oh, and drink more water. That’s on every goal list.

Most doctors I’ve been to have seen a diagnosis of asthma on my chart and immediately put most of my health complaints down to the that. You’re tired? Asthma? You’ve been coughing for over a year? Asthma (actually walking pneumonia but who’s counting?). So it stands to reason that I’ve stopped going to the doctor over being tired because who needs to be told the same thing over and over again when I know what they’re going to tell me to do?

This time, The Boy convinced me to make a doctor’s appointment and even though I was sure I could parrot back what the doctor would say, I made the appointment. Oh, the things you do in your first year of marriage! So yesterday, I called in sick and made my way to the doctor.

I’ve been going to the same practice for years (from before I moved countries) and most of the doctors there are good but they tend to see ‘asthmatic’ and go with that as their first diagnosis. This time, I saw a new doctor who ordered up a bunch of blood tests to check my iron, folate and thyroid (among others). I’ll find out if there’s anything in it on Friday.

So, until then, I’m yawning through my day and trying not to snore but feeling a little more hopeful that I’ll be taken seriously instead of being fobbed off as just another asthmatic. After hearing about cancer diagnoses coming out of nowhere, I’d rather be tested for anything and everything than be dismissed.

Maybe it is all in my mind. Maybe it is my asthma. But I’d rather know than self-diagnose and keep doing what I’ve always done if it’s not really working.

I say some exercise because as much as I’d would have liked to have hit the gym 5 times this week, I didn’t for the following reasons:

1. I didn’t really want to.
2. I had uni on Monday and Tuesday nights so I only got home at 8pm.
3. I visited my lovely friend Kate in hospital on Wednesday night.
4. I didn’t think it was that smart to go hell for leather in the first week in case I would’t be able to move for weeks afterwards.

And despite everything I tell you and all the whinging I do about my sore muscles, I like this feeling. I like feeling as if I’ve done something, as if I’ve shocked my body out of complacency and I’m actually moving forward. Sore muscles are great (but don’t tell The Boy, since I need to keep whinging to someone )