Thursday, 24 September 2009

Week 3 Day 18

Week 3! Day 18! I honestly never thought I'd make it so far. I thought my resolve would fail (it has a way of doing that) or my health would (that has a way of doing it too) and I'd be massively allergic to something in the food packs, but here I am.

My LL meetings are on Sundays, but I'm away this weekend so I had a pop-in tonight to get weighed and pick up my foodpacks for the week.

I've lost 2.5lbs since last Sunday!

So far my losses have been relatively low but I've figured it's mostly because I'm short. But we'll see - 2.5lbs in 4 days is promising. My next weigh-in is Sunday-after-next so hopefully I'll see a big loss then.

But I'm almost 10lbs down now, and it really shows. Every day I look a little thinner and things fit a little better. My boobs, they were the first to go. That was the only part of being overweight that I enjoyed: the boobage. I've been near-flat chested all my life. Farewell funbags, it was swell. Good riddance to underwire though.

I have been in a dark place for the last few days - wanting to scurry away home as soon as the working day was over and coddle myself in slipper-boots. I've turned down (and actually ignored) social invitations left, right and centre, To the point where I fully expect not to be invited to things again. Part of this is, I'm sure, early-diet-lockin. It's hard to contemplate going back into circulation brandishing my sachets and my (presumably) ketosis-induced halitosis, and swapping cocktails for sparkling water.

It's harder still to admit I'm on a diet. To admit that I'm not happy with something. That I'm not happy with myself. I spend a lot of time worrying about what other people think and this kind of thing presents a chink in the perfect mask I try to present to the world all the time, and I'm not comfortable with that.

That said, if someone told me they were doing this diet and no thank you, take those cocktails and crabcakes away, I'd be awash with admiration. So basically I need to buck up.

The little sabotages - the not drinking enough water, the irregularity of packs - I'm trying to iron them out. And think about what I'm doing ("WHY do you need the peanut bar tonight?") etc. And maybe I can work up the courage to reenter the world imperfect and proud.

This weekend will be a little test of this. I am spending the weekend with my best friend: going to meet her after work tomorrow (which will be weird as I worked at the same place for years, only quitting 6 months ago). Then we'll go back to her place and I'll amuse and delight by spraying her kitchen with powdered soup mix while trying to demonstrate my blending skills.

On Saturday we're getting the train to Oxford, where we will be partaking in A GHOST HUNT. No, don't look at me like that. I'm not nuts. It's an organised event - basically like an extended ghost tour but with seances. And people who reckon they're psychic. Although you do get to mooch around on your own with torches, and it is fun to creep around a spooky place in the dark.

The thing runs from 7pm till something like 4am. I'm wondering how I'm going to manage, hunger-wise, as I generally have my last pack at about 8. I'll just load up on bars and soups (there's hot water and mugs on tap) and hope for the best I think. After that we're crashing in a local Travelodge then moseying back to London on Sunday.

I haven't seen my best friend for three weeks, and I really want her to see all the weight I've already lost and almost have a heart attack. It'll give me some validation. We have long been avid co-enablers of our own bad eating habits: post-pub trips to MacDonalds; lunchtime visits to the Japanese Canteen for their yummy curries "because we've had a bad day"; "sneaky" Chinese meals at each others' houses, and many, many chocolate peanuts. But she's diligently working her way through WeightWatchers and I'm doing this, and I am half-afraid that we'll have nothing to talk about, or that we'll just pack it all in and go down the chippy.

Which is plainly tosh.

Today I have had an explosively upset stomach. I think it was down to the two(!) banana mochas I had this morning. My stomach just might be rebelling against two espressos. Or it could have been the peanut bar I had last night (but I seem to have got used to them). Who knows. It was quite painful though, and I wasn't even sure I'd make it to the pop-in. I shall load up on pills and whatnot because diarrhoea while ghost hunting in a mediaeval castle is probably not quite spiritual etiquette.

I have a few days off this week and next week. I've not really been indulging them; I've been up early and mooching around achieving little. And I think it's all down to this antsy, "dark place" feeling I've had lately. Tomorrow I plan to have a Big Shower. This is where I depilate, exfoliate, deep-condition every inch of me, then smear myself in smelly body lotion and blob paint messily onto my toenails.

Which is interesting. Because I'm only doing it because I'll be "in company". When it's just me I just make sure I'm clean and sod off. But really *I* deserve to feel soft-skinned, glossy-haired, dewy-lipped and well-maintained every day. Just for me. Not doing it all in a job-lot because someone is likely to see me in pajamas.

Note to self!

There's also something very calming about applying body lotion every night, and perfume in the morning. I shall get on that: apparently my subconscious was ahead of me as I appear to have bought body lotion and a body-brushing, er, brush earlier this week.

I ALSO bought, to celebrate my half-stone loss (even though it doesn't FEEL like something to celebrate) the necklace I promised myself, plus some nice smellies from Lush. It's time to start paying myself some attention.

Talking of which, beauty sleep beckons.


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