Weeks 37 to 44…in which I fall off the wagon

Forgive me reader for I have sinned. It’s been 8 weeks since my last blog. And I didn’t just fall of the wagon as much as dived off it straight under the wheels. I’ll start how I usually end. Outcome: I put on TWO pounds since my last post. Fuckety shit.

This is bad for many reasons. No1; it’s the first time I’ve put on weight ALL YEAR. No2; it’s the first time I’m BEHIND target. No3; I now need to lose 12lbs in 6 weeks (I do not intend to lose weight in the last two weeks of the year..no way…Christmas is for eating your body weight in cheese, nuts and Terry’s chocolate orange!) No4; I’m furious with myself.

I could list excuses, I could try and justify the fall, I could go on for hours about the restaurants, takeaways (it took two weeks to put in my new kitchen, we ate takeaways every night), insane travel itinerary etc. etc.….

but I’ve never been one for excuses. Putting on weight is totally and utterly down to the choices I made, it’s on me and only me. Bollocks.

I’ve discovered that I MUST blog more regularly. I decided this year that I would only weigh when I blog. And getting writers block just after the summer meant I haven’t weighed in the last 2 months (tried to convince myself that actually I lost weight in the first 4 weeks and put it on again in the last 4 – but I’m not really buying it and it doesn’t make me feel any better).

I’ve also discovered that I am, without a doubt, an emotional eater. When I’m stressed I eat, when I’m tired I eat, when I’m overwhelmed, lonely, low, vulnerable, worried..I eat. And I’ve been all of these things during the last 8 weeks. That said, I also eat when I’m happy and excited so I can’t win for fucks sake! In fact the only time I don’t eat, without concentrated effort, is when I’m asleep…or on a plane..bizarrely I eat very little when I’m in the air. Unless, I discovered to my cost on my recent trip back to Australia, I’m bumped up to first class. The menu alone was enough to send me straight back to morbid obesity.

The rest of the flight was also a revelation.  Pretending you fly Emirates first class ALL THE TIME is not easy when you don’t know where anything is or how anything works. For example, by total accident I discovered the completely unnecessary pop up bar…

and whilst trying to work out how to use the TV I stumbled upon…a writing drawer.

And then I was handed the pyjamas. But not just ordinary pyjamas. These were the world’s first MOISTURISING  pyjamas.  Look…

Seriously, what the actual fuck? There are children dying in the world and a company has utilised the brain of a genius scientist and millions of dollars in research TO MOISTURISE THE RICH WHILE THEY SLEEP!

But (with no irony whatsoever) I have no complaints about the shower. Oh yes, for 25 minutes you can enjoy private use of the on board SPA. So I did.

 

In fact I had two showers, one between UK and Dubai, another a few hours later on route between Dubai and Sydney – JUST BECAUSE I COULD! It’s actually quite bizarre – bit like joining a mile high club for germophobics. You can imagine the conversation, ‘Did you..like…do it?’ snigger ‘ did you..do it…all over?’

Having got used to a little luxury and with the blessing of my PA who’d booked it, I utilised the hotel masseuse during a trip to Dubai. I’ve always feared massages because frankly my body has always been too big to lie on the table properly. Honestly, I’ve never know what to do with my arms, because my body took up all the space – shall I fold them over my stomach? cross them over my chest? fling them over my head? or just dangle them over the sides. It wasn’t easy. This time though, no problem, for the first time ever I had room to let my arms rest next to me on the table.

So I was thoroughly enjoying the experience until about half way through, when she leaned forward and whispered in my ear…‘Mam, you have a blackhead on your back, may I remove it for you?’ FOR FUCKS SAKE! I had so many thoughts simultaneously that my brain actually farted. Blackheads on my BACK? Is that even an actual thing??Apparently it is, because following an affirmative grunt from me (I was desperately trying not to laugh / cry), and with more than a little discomfort, she proceeded to excavate my back. I no longer have either blackheads on my back or my dignity.

Stay tuned for the next blog, it’ll be sooner. I’m climbing back on that wagon, bruised, a bit bloody, but determined NOT TO FAIL.