A weight off my mind (and body)

I went to see my locum yesterday as a sort of 'half way through' check up. So these measurements are completely accurate and not subject to dodgey scales or wishful thinking.

In 7 weeks since I started I've gone from a hippo-tastic 15'10 to an aerodynamic 13'2! That's 2 stone 8 pounds in 7 weeks! I've lost 13cm from my boobs, 11 from my tummy and 11 from my hips! Doors that I once had to navigate myself through I am now dancing through whilst shaking my considerably smaller booty.

AND my hair hasn't all fallen out, which everyone assured me it would.

AND I've been asked out!

AND I told one of the not very nice people at work to shove off today, instead of muttering sarcastic quips under my breath and then running back to my computer to tell everyone about them on here.

If I had a party popper I'd pop it right now and hang the consequences.

WEEK 7

AND, JUST TO REMIND YOU, WEEK 0

Still no news on the man I'm afraid. Haven't even seen him since. Am getting all sorts of very conflicting advice - should I go seek him out myself? Should I flirt with someone near to him (a laughable suggestion, clearly put forward by someone who's never seen me attempting to flirt)? Should I remain aloof and wait? Or should I just chalk it up to experience and remember that I'm not even entirely sure if I like him anyway!?! It's a bit of a conundrum quite frankly!

Boys and Girls

Weight: 13.7 - 13.9 (remind me to only use my own scales from now on. The official ones at Tescos clearly hate me)

Had the best weekend ever. After all of the excitement on Thursday I was literally walking on clouds for at least 3 days. Got half way to work on Friday before I noticed I was strutting! (New development by the way, I always took the bus before but I'm finding that I have the energy to walk now, which has helped speed the weight loss up again)

Friday was spent surreptitiously staring at the door in case he came in, whilst breathing in and out as slowly as possible and doing bugger all work. I have no idea how the pretty people ever get any work done at all!

Anyway, he never came in so I've probably blown it completely by my staggering lack of cool and togetherness, but I still spent the entire weekend discussing it in minute detail with my friends. Every look, every gesture, every word of the 5 minute conversation we had was analysed in depth, along with everything I know or have ever suspected about him. Then there was the obligatory trip to the gym, nail painting session, face masks and hair cut. I feel like a new woman! And the weight is falling off too! All this stress is clearly working for me!

Then on Monday, disaster struck. I had a feeling it might happen on Sunday night, a growing dread gnawing in my insides. I woke up on Monday morning and went to the mirror and my worst suspicions were confirmed. I have a spot.

And what's even more annoying is that I really don't get spots. I don't have a huge amount of good features, but my skin has never really caused me any problems or crippling embarrassment. And what have I been eating to cause this? Milkshakes and soups! Not Mars bars and McDonalds like I was a few weeks ago - clearly someone hates me, and clearly they have a vindictive sense of humour.

So, instead of facing my fears and hoping that this guy will accept me for who I am (because that's been working so well for me!) I spent most of the day hiding in toilets and around doors in case I saw him, or trying to work whilst blocking my chin with my hand in case he suddenly appeared.

And frankly I don't even know if I even really like this guy. I hardly know him. Am I just so overcome with gratitude and excitement and the faintest hint of a romance that I'll jump on the first guy who shows the slightest interest?

SOMEONE HELP MEEEEEEE!!!!!!

omgomgomgomgomgOMG!!!

Today is the happiest I've ever been. This is it. Final. Full Stop. Life could end here and I don't think I'd mind one jot (except that tomorrow could be even better of course...)

Thursday December 4th. The Happiest Day of Ever. The day I got asked out on a date. By an actual boy.

I've been obese for a long time. Since they invented the word really. Needless to say I don't have the boys swooning over me, and part of me had almost stopped caring. Probably a defence mechanism (one of many), but I've just stopped spending my days worrying about boys/romances/crushes because they're so alien to my life.

And I have a good life, a fulfilling life that involves friends and family and laughter. But just not boys. Not romance, not even the hope of one. I told myself I didn't care, but the way I'm feeling right now, if that's how the skinny pretty people feel all the time, then I just can't believe anyone has a need for prozac!

I didn't think people actually got asked out anymore. Not like "would you like to go out on a date with me" anyway. Seems like something that'd happen to Reese Witherspoon or Jennifer Aniston or someone. I see people getting together on the dance floor or at parties all the time, but I've never even heard of a guy actually getting up the courage to ask a girl out properly, but it happened today!

And I completely blew it! I was so shocked that I just stared, open mouthed for a good 6 hours, and by the time I did manage to get a word out ("mimblewibble") he was so embarrassed that he ran off, fell over, and will probably never return.

Doesn't matter though, as I suck down my milkshake with slightly more gusto than usual. Because I got asked out. And these brighter clothes are clearly working their magic!

Dull and Dreary

Apparently, I'm dreary.

I was informed of this at work today. A lady that I know reasonably well came up and we had the traditional conversation about how well I'm doing, and how much weight I've lost and how she knows someone who could definitely benefit from the same program and can I give her the number (I really think Howard's Way should be paying me for my advertising services, every pound I shed seems to get them another member!)

Anyway, we went through all that, and at the end she casually mentioned that I should go and get some nice, bright colourful clothes to draw a bit of attention to myself. She walked off and I was left looking down at my clothing, slightly perplexed about what she meant. I'm not the kind of person to draw attention to myself much, but surely I dressed the same as everyone else?

Grey shirt, Black skirt, Black tights and black shoes. Topped off with a black coat and scarf. Not about to dazzle anyone. Then I looked around me at the other people in the room. A riot of colours glared back at me, each one screaming for my attention. Greens, Purples, Reds, Yellows, Oranges... and do you know what? I don't have a single one of those colours in my entire wardrobe.

I really don't. I got home and tore everything out and laid it on my bed, and sorted it in to colours. I had four. Black, Grey, Brown and Navy. Four piles. Four choices. None of them exactly eye catching. And I've honestly never really noticed this before!

And all of these girls in my office, the ones who keep getting promoted and getting asked out and who generally seem to have it together so much more than I do, I'm willing to bet that they all have more than four colour choices in their wardrobes.

So I'm going shopping now, and I'm going to be bold and I'm going to be brave and I'm going to at least double my options. I still don't have a body that I'm proud of or want to draw attention to, and I'm only half way through my diet so still have lots to lose (so it's probably a complete waste of money), but I'm sick of being dreary. I'm sick of being passed by. I'm sick of not being worth looking at.

I know that the clothes I've chosen have been almost entirely dictated by my insecurities about my weight, but none of the other girls in my office have perfect bodies (far from it) and that doesn't seem to stop them being bright and confident. My turn.

Good press!

My stupid doctor signed my form today. He looked in to it a bit and did some research, did my medical and it all went fine so he signed. Don't know why he had to make such a big deal of it all, but I've got my signature which will make Howard's Way happy, which means I get my food, which means I can carry on losing weight, which makes me happy!!!

I can't wait until I'm merely 'overweight.' May seem like an unusual stepping block for someone on a diet, but I figure that if I focus all my energies on simply getting down to overweight again I wont get scared. When I've dieted before (I started diets most Monday mornings and they were normally history by lunchtime) I've had a plan to get thin. And thin from obese is quite a long way so I've always given up.

So overweight may not be glamorous, and it may not be what the magazines are telling me I should strive to be, but it'd sure make me happy! My BMI is currently 36, down from 42, but it has to be under 30 before I'm out of the scary orange section on the chart and in to the slightly less scary orange. The Doctor's signed, and I'm on my way (from misery to happiness today)!!!

Bad press.

Weight: 13st 12!!!!!

Went to see my Doctor today. I have to do checkups quite frequently on this diet so they can make sure I'm getting enough of everything that I need, and that I'm healthy and happy. For some reason, he refused to sign my form which states that he's happy for me to continue with the diet. He said he didn't have time to spend with someone who was just losing weight, rather than someone who had a 'genuine health concern.' This is the same man whose immortal words "one cheeseburger away from a heart attack" started this whole damned thing!!!

I'm thinner than I've been in about 5 years, I've got bundles of energy, feel just dandy and was, until he said it, happier than I've been in longer than I can remember. So why wouldn't he just sign it?!?!

I don't know what the big issue is with VLCDs anyway. People who haven't seen me for a while say "you're looking great!," but the second I start telling them how quickly I've lost it, or how easy it's been, they suck in their cheeks, look concerned and tell me "it's not healthy to lose it that quick you know."

NEWSFLASH: It's not that healthy being 220lbs at 1.50m either!

It's like just because I've found it easier than chomping down on lettuce leaves for 3 years whilst saluting the sun and going on brisk walks every weekend, doesn't mean that I'm about to collapse of malnutrition! And now it appears that my Doctor is suffering from the same misconceptions, and wants me back to do further tests.

Don't get me wrong, I'm all for checking that I'm healthy. That's why I chose the Howard's Way diet over any of the other VLCDs, because they put such emphasis on health, but if I don't get the form signed and handed back to them, they'll ween me off the food until my Doctor signs it, and the last thing I want right now (and I never thought I'd hear myself say this) is normal food! I almost wish Howard's Way and the Doctor cared just that little bit less, and would just let me decide what's good for me based on how I feel.

I know that there was a lot of bad press surrounding Very Low Calorie Diets back in the day before they were properly regulated, and I know that people are scared because of all of the laughable adverts you see for 'miracle diet pills,' (or, as I like to call them, 'idiot tax') but I just wish people would respect me enough to realise that I have researched this, I do understand what's happening in my body, and I can make up my own mind. Just because I'm fat does not mean I'm a dumbass.

Anyway. Rant over. I've given the Doc all of the Howard's Way information, which I've shown to other Doctors before and they've approved, so fingers crossed I wont be back on normal food any time soon, because I'm actually kind of starting to like the shakes. The butterscotch one is not so good, but the rest are bordering on yum.

A christmas conundrum

I wonder how many bloggers start off by thinking that they'll post every day. And I wonder how long each of them lasts at that.

I think there are good things and bad things about blogging. I love writing it, and I love getting the comments and supports from my fellow bloggers, but the one bad thing is that it does dramatically increase the amount of the day that I spend thinking about the diet and the food that I'm not eating.

Things have settled down in to a pretty good routine at the moment. I've got making and shaking the Total Food Replacements down to a fine art, and I do love not having to spend time thinking about what I'm going to eat when I get home from work. People at work have calmed down now that they've realised that I'm not going to explode/become thinner than them in a matter of weeks. My health is good, my energy levels are great, and the side effects I was experiencing (constipation, dry lips, coldness) have all but vanished.

Yet I can't shake a slight feeling of 'mergh' that I can't seem to describe with an other word.

I think it might be Christmas. I love Christmas, love the build up, love the day itself, love just thinking about it for months and months before hand.... and I honestly never thought before that any part of that love revolved around food, yet I find myself thinking longingly of all the foods that I wont be eating, all the selection boxes that will go unwrapped, and all the puddings that will not melt tantalizingly on my tastebuds.

What does that mean? That I'm so shallow and obsessed with food that the only enjoyment I get from the hi-light of the Christian calendar is cake??? That my love affair with Christmas is really an opportunity to gorge myself without anyone judging me?

Friends and family that I've explained this to, came up with the wonderful advice of simply 'saving' all of the good food until my diet ends 3 weeks after Christmas. Good to know that the art of completely missing the point is not dead! If I save myself a little hoard of cakes and chocolates and puddings ready to tuck into the second the 12 weeks is up, just how long will my new found figure and resolution last? But if I don't, do I really have the strength to miss out on the time of year that I spend at least 11 months looking forward to?

It's a conundrum alright, any tips from more experienced dieters?