The Fatslayer Chronicles

I seriously considered deleting this blog because it was beginning to feel more a chore than a pleasure to write, plus I was becoming self-conscious and paranoid about how boring the entries are. I went through a bad patch, when on top of feeling like a dieting failure, I started to feel like a blogging failure too. I decided to go cold turkey on writing entries for a week, and see how that felt.

But what the hell, I’ve missed it! I’ve missed being able to write my thoughts down this past week, and I’ve missed feeling a part of the blogging community. Weird, huh? Anyway, I’ve decided to carry on updating for a while longer and see how it goes. If over time it just turns into another stick that I use to beat myself up with, I’ll quit, but while it’s still serving a useful purpose - giving me an outlet to whine and moan, ha ha – I’ll carry on with it for a little while.

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Anyway, since this is a diet blog, I guess I’d better talk about how the fatslaying is progressing – or, more accurately, not progressing.

The good news is that I’ve been back on track for a week now, keeping my calories below 1400 a day, and eating healthy, balanced, nutritious food. I feel sort of proud of myself for having got over the hump and refocused on my goals – stepping back from the abyss is something I’ve never, ever managed to do before in 30-odd years of yo-yo dieting, so I’m considering that to be a mini-breakthrough and a bit of a victory.

Yay me.

The less good news is that I seem to be stuck on a plateau. I’m hovering around the 12 stone 10lbs mark (178lbs) - which means that I’m still not back to my pre-Christmas lowest weight – but I’m trying hard not to get hung up about the numbers, so I’m (almost) cool about the whole plateau business. As long as I see progress by the end of January, I’ll be fine and dandy.

And the bad news is that I’m still struggling to get back on the exercise band wagon, despite all my pep-talks and self-nagging. I guess I AM beginning to have longer periods of feeling that I ought to exercise, though, so maybe that’s a step in the right direction. The exercise part of the equation is still the bit where I’m getting my sums wrong.

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Yesterday the one person at work who has noticed that I’ve lost weight commented on how skinny I was looking. “Surely you must be at goal by now?” she said. I shook my head, but since I didn’t feel up to the usual “I’m only halfway…” sort of conversation, I merely said “Oh, I’m not there yet. I want to drop another size or two before I stop…”

“What size are you at the moment?” she asked. (Nosy cow!)

I squirmed. “Um, a sixteen, I think.”

She half-laughed, and said “You’re never a size 16! With hips like those! Never!….”

I blushed beetroot. I was remembering all the times my eldest sister lied and said she was a size 16, when we all knew she cut the labels out of her (tight) size 22s and 24s – I felt mortified that she was thinking I was lying about being a size 16. I was tempted to pull down the waistband of the damned skirt and prove to her that I was a fucking size 16! And hell, I’d bring in the size 14 skirt I’d bought the previous weekend, and show her that that fitted too! Fucking bitch!

Then she continued…“You can’t be bigger than a size 14! I’m a 14 and you’re definitely no bigger than me. I can’t believe you’re a 16. I’m amazed…”

My face was probably a picture. I’d been feeling really defensive, and I’d jumped to the instant assumption that she was being bitchy and rude, when actually the opposite was true. Shame on me!

But it was such a knee-jerk reaction to feel embarrassed and defensive when questioned about my size. I’m still at that stage where I’m taking size 20s and size 22s into changing rooms, and then having to send K back out into the store to fetch me 14s and 16s instead because the 20s and 22s are too big. Deep down I still feel really obese (I AM really obese!), and I find it hard to conceive that I no longer have to pick up the biggest size in the shop. It’s hard to get my head around. Logically, I know that as a 5 foot 1 in tall woman, I am still obese at 178lbs – but lately, I’ve been fitting comfortably into a size 16, and I’m heading towards a size 14.

With 50lbs to go, I didn’t expect to be in those sizes for another six months or so.

Not that I’m complaining – it’s great – but it just doesn’t feel real to me at the moment. I really and truly thought that her “with hips like those!” comment was a less than subtle insult – it never even entered my head that she might be paying me a compliment, even though the comment was made in the context of a conversation about my weight loss.

What's wrong with me?