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Of Dithering not Doing March 21, 2008

Posted by Jen in : Dieting Misery, Journal, Novel , 23 comments

Four days off. Goodness me. Whatever will I do with myself? The boys are spending Easter with their dad and grandparents. I’ve had bold notions aplenty about what I could get up to. Having put my foot down, as it were, I finally collected my new car last week. I envisaged zooming about like they do on the adverts, looking fab ‘n’ funky with my flossy hair billowing behind me as I gad about from one cool place to the next. Sadly, much as I tragically love my new Corsa, the only other people I’ve seen driving them are grannies or people wearing anoraks. Hmmm.

Anyway. Four days away from work. I’m gradually acclimatising to the going-to-work-every-day thing. Time is magically expanding (along with the ironing mountain) and I’ve started writing again in the mornings. I even managed a 40-minute romp through the woods before my working day yesterday. Sadly, it did mean that the hair-straightening time was obliterated but I don’t think anyone noticed my large Russell Brand hairdo.

So. Shopping this morning. I do so love being pushed about by simpletons in a supermarket. But, once the fridge is filled with M&S goodies and the bathroom crammed with pamperingness, I shall relax. R-e-l-a-x. The snow will be falling and I will be chilling.

Apart from lazing about, there is the small matter of The Novel to edit. Yikes. Oh, and I ordered some new running shoes yesterday. Yes, I’m moaning about lardiness again. This weekend is the start of my stop-being-fat period. I hope the shoes get lost in the post arrive soon.  I know someone who’s looking forward to a daily early-morning run.

Crumbs, dieting for two hours has clearly made me weak and soppy. Pics of my pets indeed.

That’s better.

Too Tyred to Type August 24, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Dieting Misery, Journal , 18 comments

Ugh. On the recommendation of someone who shall not be named, but who I’m currently cursing, I have embarked on a diet. Another one. Sigh.

This isn’t just any old diet. Oh no. ‘Tis a detox too. I’m only on the second day and my poor body is begging lifelessly for a proper cuppa tea.

Instead, I am frowning, drinking Rooibos (unpronounceable so now referred to as Rudeboy’s Tea) and swallowing Nurofen by the handful. My neck feels as if it’s made of rubber and my head is likely to fall off and roll down the garden onto the compost heap at any moment. Concentration? Zero. Possibly less.

I hate dieting. I’ve done them all but, being a greedy-guts Taurean and latent lush, have always slipped back into naughty mode. Pathetic. Gin and Jaffa Cakes was my favourite diet ever – it even worked and I was terribly cheerful all the time. Low fat, you see? Genius.

But. Drastic measures are called for. Before being non-working, I used to rush home and strip off my suit (admittedly becoming rather bum-hugging) and change into either trackies for dog-walking or jim-jams for writing/studying. When I actually tried to put my jeans on, well! I’d have had more luck cramming a live jellyfish into an eggcup. Blushing, I sneaked into Gap and bought the next size up.

But, erm, let’s just say that they weren’t terribly successful either.

So. Neris and India’s Idiot-Proof Diet it is. I felt slimmer after an hour just reading the book but that was probably due to holding my sides laughing. Oddly, I’m not laughing today.

Am having to give up any pretence of writing and am instead tottering off to the beach to watch the dog learn to surf .

Taureans aren’t cut out for dieting. Luckily, Taureans don’t believe in horoscopes either.

Pffffff. Cup of Daffodil Tea, anyone?

 

Of Exuberant Bouncing and Subsequent Stiffness April 12, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Dieting Misery, Journal , 5 comments

Ooch. Ouch. Grooaaan.

Did I mention that I went for a run yesterday? I think I may have overdone it a little. When I arrived home, lycra-clad and the colour of beetroot, the postie-in-a-van was delivering my latest fad piece of exercise equipment. A Reebok rebounder. Or, as my children called it, a granny’s trampoline. GRRRRRRRRR.

But. It is rather marvellous. I can bounce, bounce, bounce without my knees falling to bits: I have hypermobility syndrome. My joints extend far beyond the range they should meaning I end up with injuries beyond my wildest dreams. I think that’s what it means. It could just be a medical way of saying I’m a loose woman.

Anyway. Running. Bouncing. Springy star jumps. You name it, I did it yesterday. Ooch. Ouch.

Lovely bf was surprisingly keen on the purchase of said rebounder. Strangely, I do not think he was considering my knees during its evening demonstration.

I quote:

‘Just wait ’til the webcam’s up and running. This thing’s gonna make me a fortune.’

When I am less achey, I shall catch him and kill him.

Thinking Thin Thoughts April 11, 2007

Posted by Jen in : Dieting Misery, Journal , 4 comments

This is it. I mean it this time. I’ve been on diets. I’ve lost weight. I know it works. I have also made the amazing discovery that if I don’t exercise and eat too much and/or drink too much, I will get fat again.

I am now fat again. Bugger. How did that happen? Oh.  Sigh.

Calorie-counting
Patrick Holford’s fat-burner diet
Eating only chicken and eggs - a crazy idea from a 1970s book my mother found at a jumble sale

I’ve tried them all. And, actually, they all work. Eat less, move about more. Doesn’t take a genius.

Oddly, I don’t think blogging burns many calories. Must get off arse.

I am going for a run. Really. The negative self-loathing part of me is in hysterics: Going out in public? In Lycra? Ha ha ha ha haaaaaar, can I watch?

Thinking thin, thinking thin. Not thinking about naughty food at all.

Raaaaah!