We are well into a month hiatus for the weighing scales, Christmas is coming and the pantry is getting full: glazed hams, a growing pile of selection boxes, pastries, cakes and plenty of bubbly boozy tipples.
Sitting in a vest and joggers with strands of grey, shimmering amongst a crocodile clip on the top of my head, my blossoming waistline proves calorie counting these past few months has yielded zero results. The needle on the scale has been fluctuating upwards for some years now, and my lack of vanity has allowed it to take control. But poor health forced me to acknowledge and address my weight gain.
I have fibromyalgia, rheumatoid and osteoarthritis. I suffer daily with chronic pain, particular muscular aches in my legs, and joint pain in my hands, feet, hips and knees. Always supportive of the phrase we all come in different shapes and sizes, I cannot deny my joints will benefit from carrying less weight. Knowing this, and achieving this, are two very different things.
Diets always begin with enthusiasm. The cupboards are emptied of crisps and chocolate, replaced with plenty of fruit and vegetables. I write down everything I eat, and strictly weigh ingredients to achieve portion control, remaining in my daily allowance of 1500 calories. Exercise is difficult for me, but I go for plenty of walks and attempt exercise routines at home. Swimming is supposed to be good for arthritic and chronic pain, but I wont lie I just don’t like it.
All is well for a few days, even a week. After that a few extra goodies land in the shopping basket and into my mouth (left out of the food diary of course). Dieting brings out the sneaky liar in me, if I don’t confess I mustn’t have eaten it. Finally I reach the point where I sit down in an evening, overwhelmed with the reality of what I need to do to succeed. I give a big huff and puff “blow it”. Ten minutes later bacon and sausages are sizzling in the pan, alongside mushrooms and tomatoes, beans in the microwave, egg cracked ready to fry and fat slabs of bread in the toaster. Fry-up supper consumed, the plate mopped clean with bread, I continue to raid the cupboards for chocolate and numerous packets of crisps. The next day I could give myself a strict talk, get back on the band wagon but I don’t, all willpower diminished.
So I salute all the people out there who are losing weight, be proud of your achievement.
Well my Christmas food shop is here and needs unpacking. Will consider my dieting options in January.
Have a happy Christmas everybody.