The Fatslayer Chronicles

K and I have been house and dog/cat sitting for K’s mom since Saturday, and using it as a trial run for trying to eat sensibly without a proper routine in advance of next week’s camping trip to Cornwall. Her house is only 5 miles from ours, so its not exactly the ends of the earth, but I wanted to avoid the temptation to run home every five minutes – I’m pretending to myself that I’m marooned from my everyday surroundings, and trying to see how I cope with the unfamiliarity. Luckily I have a good imagination!

K goes home every evening at bedtime, so that our own house isn’t left too long unattended, but I stay the night here to look after the animals (we bought K2 over here with us). All I’ve allowed myself is half an hour at home every morning after I’ve walked the doggies to weigh and shower – there are some things that a gal just can’t do without!

Basically, though I like to think of myself as a free-spirited hippy-chick wild-child, patently this is just wishful thinking on my part. The painful reality is that my disposition is much more anally-retentive and control-freaky (hey, I’m an accountant, so I’m working with a stacked deck here!), and any change from my established routine causes me untold anxiety and apprehension.

Living in someone else’s house for 5 days, without recourse to my usual exercise equipment, walking routes, healthy ingredients and snack foods etc. would ordinarily be a licence to run amok and eat everything in sight (before replacing it so I don’t look like a piggy-porker of course). The challenge for the week was to stay reasonably on-track, to try and get a couple of long walks in, to try and eat sensibly without running to the village pub for sausage and chips because I can’t figure out how to cook on the Aga, and to generally not go to hell in a handcart.

Within my first hour here I checked out the freeze, fridge and larders (there are three) and did a thorough inventory of what I could eat and what I couldn’t. This may sound stalkerish and slightly alarming, but I swear on my mother’s life that I haven’t rummaged through a single underwear drawer, medicine cabinet, bedside nightstand or any other personal space – I’m not a snoop, I just like to know what there is to eat!

Anyway, on the pro side there was fruit, bran cereal, canned tuna (in brine, not water, but hell, I can be a bit wild when I have to be!), skim milk, canned tomatoes, cashew nuts, olive oil, organic free-range eggs, wholemeal bread.

On the con side there wasn’t a single veggie in the house, or any salad items whatsoever, there was only regular pasta (not wholemeal), and there was no lean meat or fish of any kind other than the aforementioned canned tuna.

On the double-con side there was a fridge full of wine and beer and butter and cheese, a cupboard full of crisps and chocolate, and three home-made cakes (left for our benefit, with a note exhorting us to eat all three of them, and the jam-tarts in the freezer too). Hmm, what is it with mothers and mothers-outlaw? How difficult can the concept ‘we’re trying to eat healthily’ be?! It seems the more I insist that we want to avoid crap, the more temptation they try to put in our path. However, I’m never one to run away from a challenge…

I was expecting to replace what we ate, but I’ve gotta be honest, it’s been difficult to concoct healthy nutritious meals from such slim pickings. We’ve had pasta with home-made tomato, basil, garlic and olive oil sauce for dinner twice, and tuna wholemeal sandwiches for lunch every day. I was trying to be all Robinson Crusoe-ish and survive entirely on what I could find in the house, but on day two I had to crack and buy salad items – life without them is intolerable!

Overall, I don’t think we’ve done too badly. The exercise has suffered a little, but we walked for an hour today, and intend to do so again tomorrow. The scales have been kind, showing me at 193lbs – that’s 6lbs dropped in two weeks, which I know is way too fast, but it makes up for the two-to-three plateau weeks at the start of August. It gives me a little buffer in case I find Cornwall a bit of a struggle.

The good thing – and the most encouraging sign for next week – is that we’ve managed to avoid the crap in the house completely, and the lure of the village pub too. Neither of us have so much as sniffed the chocolate or a cork – despite there being some top quality wine staring us in the face every time we open the fridge. I’ve kept my calories between 1200 and 1400 every day, and though I’m not getting as much lean protein and fibre in as I’d like, I think I’m managing to make pretty good choices and to work well within the parameters I’ve got to work with.

If I can handle the challenges of Cornwall (with K's chauvinistic friend and his ‘Bubble-Butt fiancée) with the same pragmatism and aplomb I’ll be well chuffed! The problem with next week is that Tyrone and Debbie are both big boozers, and Ty eats crap all day long, and will nag K and me (K especially) to match him drink for drink and Cornish pasty for Cornish pasty. It’ll be a difficult week for K in particular, because he won’t want to keep saying no all the time (men hate that, don’t they?!) Trying to keep myself accountable whilst not being a big party-pooper drag may be a difficult balancing act – especially as I don’t want to abandon K to his fate just to save my own dieting arse!

Hopefully I’ll find the time for one more entry before we hit the canvas on Saturday, but if not, wish me luck next week – I think I may need it!