In the week that we experienced the hottest temperatures of 2016 so far, I found myself indulging. Not necessarily in food, more of the liquid variety. The alcoholic liquid variety.
Monday started with the best intentions, as it always does. But once the sun was radiating and the temperature was climbing I was rifling in the fridge. Out comes the prosecco and the wine and before I know it, I’m feeling tipsy on a Monday afternoon. Not the worst way to start a week by any stretch of the imagination, however, not exactly conducive to a diet.
Don’t worry, I wasn’t drinking sans company. I had my Mother indulging with me, but she’s not on a diet and once again it goes to show just how little willpower I have.
I am rubbish at this diet malarkey. Literally abysmal. Once again a bacon roll (with the added accompaniment of brie) was consumed in the week I was supposed to be being good. Not to mention the crisps and the hummus that was eaten in huge quantity round my best friends on Saturday evening.
However, following my semi successful previous week of weight loss, I felt reasonably confident when I stepped on the scales of doom on Sunday morning. That didn’t last.
While there was a loss, it was the smallest loss you could ever imagine. Less than a measly pound. Not even worth noting.
Of course, I still celebrated this small win with a day of eating on Sunday. Out come the bacon rolls again (I’ve got a serious problem when it comes to bacon rolls, I actually think I may start resembling one soon). Those punnets of chocolate treats you can get from all major supermarkets? You know the ones, cornflake cakes/mini brownie bites and the like? I was in double figures come Sunday evening. Gluttony is not cool.
I have, however, started week 3 well.
Exercise is something I need to start factoring in to my weight loss plan. Especially as this eating healthy doesn’t seem to be a skill of mine.
I managed to do 13,000 steps yesterday. I also ate reasonably healthy and managed to stay well within my calorie allowance. Go me!
I’ve been avoiding opening the door of my (small) home gym for quite some time. Out of sight, out of mind. Being the Queen of Excuses, I’m good at telling myself it’s too hot/I don’t have the time/I can do this without sticking my arse on my exercise bike. Ridiculous eh? I just find exercise so damn boring. I’d much rather stick TOWIE on and sit myself down on my sofa with a huge bowl of Coco Pops for the occasion.
If I want to hit my goal by the end of September (9.8lbs to go), then I seriously need to pull my finger out.
I’ve decided to stick a photo of my former self on my fridge and on the door of my (small) home gym as inspiration. While I don’t think I could ever reach the size I once was, pre-Motherhood, it is a good reminder that eating bacon rolls, cheese and bowls of sugary cereal et al mean I’m going to find myself in a vicious circle of self-loathing for the foreseeable.
With Week 3 having started well and the fact I have a meal out with friends at an Italian on Thursday night to look forward to (I know I’ll order pizza, I just know it, I’ve had pizza withdrawal symptoms for the last fortnight), let’s see what the scales of doom tell me on the weekend. I have 9 weeks to go, which by my reckoning (and shit math skills), informs me I have to lose on average 1lb a week until then.
I can do that. Can’t I?
Current Weight: 139.8lbs
Goal Weight: 130lbs
This photo from Ayia Napa 2012 is getting pinned on my fridge and (small) gym door. Don’t ask why I’ve got a dress wrapped round my head. Just don’t.