Hiding from y'all - and from myself

Thank you to Thirkellgirl for caring enough to ask how things are going. My prolonged absence gives you the answer: not well.

My 'mindful eating', CBT approach worked beautifully for several months (not just a few days or weeks). I shed around ten pounds between August and Christmas of last year. It remained static for the next few months, and then it was Eastertide again.

What is it about Easter? No, it's not the eggs, before you ask! Maybe it's the fact that the run-up to Holy Week, in a clerical household, is obviously frantic; perhaps it's the collapse-on-holiday that follows it each year; but it must be something more, as looking back over nearly three decades of struggle, every single time that things have gone horribly wrong once more, it's always been then. I have "got it sorted" with food, exercise, self-esteem and the rest; the effects have lasted anything from six months to two years; but the point of collapse has, somehow, always been that wretched moveable feast.

This year, we completed directing a show (wonderful, successful, a joy to work on) at our local theatre, at the end of February - but I jumped straight into rehearsing (or nearly immediately) for another one. My business activities (happily) moved up a gear. I travelled around the country, for business and pleasure. I didn't make it to the gym once in literally months. Even my regular walks-around-the-village ceased. Busy, busy, busy; excuses, excuses, excuses.

Tomorrow is the final performance of the present show (The Merry Wives of Windsor). I've been playing Mistress Page: lovely show, great part, excellent cast, huge fun. However, I have to 'fess up and say that it's been the worst time possible for self-image.

Tudor costume is not kind to many of us (a bum roll? Somebody of my figure does NOT need extra girth added...); and, because one is limited to what is available in the company's wardrobe, I've ended up in a costume that I hate. The colour, the fit, are all totally wrong. The wardrobe ladies have done their best, but they are working with unpromising material. It doesn't help that I'm back to my largest size, my nearly-a-sixteen once more; but in this get-up I look more like a twenty. When I comment on Falstaff's size ("There's no woman's gown big enough for him", the audience invariably laughs, and I am quite certain it's because they are thinking "well, yours is"). To be fair to myself, the front of the dress sits at least a couple of inches proud of my body, which makes me look even more enormous.

I am gritting my teeth and publishing a photograph here: it's about the worst image of myself ever, but it illustrates the problem. (I'm on the right, obviously: my fellow Wife, Chris, is a size-12 yoga teacher, so copes much better than I do with the fashions of the time.)

So I've spent the last couple of weeks making people laugh while I wander round the stage looking like a barge in full sail. I try to wear something more flattering to change into when I see my friends after the performance, but even that is a tough call at the moment, given the general flabbiness. My face (always the first place to show weight) is moon-like, and this is not helped by the Elizabethan requirement for hair-under-hat for married women; having a small head on a large body is even more unflattering.

All this puts me in the worst possible place. It should drive and motivate me to improvement, but right now I am so tired and defeated, and worn out by the effort of continually playing (a) the clown as my part requires, and (b) the strong woman as my life requires, that I can't find the strength.

Once the show comes down tomorrow, I have a few days to catch up; then a week with beloved friends visiting us; then a week's blessed break in a little self-catering place in Normandy. Finally, time to stop and think. And focus on myself once more.

I hope that, after that, I can respond to Thirkellgirl's kind enquiry "How's it going?" with "Brilliant, thank you".

Still on track

I've been managing one pound each week so far.

Weighed myself this morning: still on track. Six weeks, six pounds exactly.

Not on a diet. Mindful eating.

Start: 171 lb.

Today: 165 lb.

Delighted.

Two books, one very useful chap

Another strand of notable help I've received during the last few weeks.

In browsing around for more help on plantar fasciitis, I came across this book:

As the reviews point out, the book is quite small in content for something relatively expensive. However, in terms of the simplicity of explanation and scientific backup, it's well worth it. I like Jim Johnson's style: treats you as an intelligent individual, while at the same time assuming you have minimum knowledge about the subject.

I've been doing the prescribed stretches for the last few weeks. While it certainly hasn't cured it, there is no doubt but that it helps considerably with the pain I usually have first thing in the morning, and who knows? - if I continue, it may in the long run ease matters.

I looked further into the books written by this chap. I found this:

Another pretty diddy little book (although less expensive); but it says all that needs to be said. Concise, intelligent, practical and sensible. There's little here I didn't know in some form already, but seeing it so clearly and rationally expressed is reassuring and encouraging. Put simply, it strips away all the nonsense put about by most 'diets' to the very simple matter: calories in and calories out, via controlled eating, sensible nutrition and achievable exercise, are the only possible routes to weight-loss. We might not like the fact that there is no magic wand, but that's the way it is.

Using some of the wise advice in both these little books, coupled with my sessions with Jason and the other related matters in my last post, there is no reason at all why I can't return my weight and shape to the way I would like it to be.

The results so far

And what difference has all this made?

30th August: weight 171 lb (12-3). BP 137/106. 42"-37"-44"*

6th October: weight 166 lb (11-12). BP 117/88. 42"-36.5"-43"*

* (bust-waist-hips)

Five pounds down. One pound each week. Feeling better. Quiet. Managing. Not panicking.

I still miss my running dreadfully. But this hasn't really, in the end, been about that. It's been about unpicking some truly ridiculous behaviours and self-image which have been with me for forty-seven years, and finally addressing them in a way that is appropriate, healthy and right for me.

I always knew the value of NLP and cognitive behavioural therapy. But I haven't experienced it in such a specific and powerful way before.

Thanks to Jason, Clare, my darling husband, Kim, and all the friends and fellow fitness enthusiasts that have continued to put up with me.

Stay with me.

Exercise

I've been managing an average of two gym sessions each week, usually with Kim. However, I've also been walking, usually with my husband, round the village - we have four different routes. This usually happens about 3-4 times each week; each route is an average of 1.6 to 1.7 miles. Sometimes it's been grim weather, but occasionally we've been treated to some completely wonderful scenes around the Norfolk countryside, which lifts the spirits as well as the heartrate.

My foot still hurts. That's why I'm still not running. It's no more than mildly uncomfortable while I'm walking, but on my return it's generally unpleasant. But frankly, if it's going to hurt anyway (and it usually does), I might just as well get in whatever exercise I can.

... next post ...

Food

So how am I doing? Over the last five weeks:

• For several evenings in a row, my one glass of wine with my evening meal would be left half-drunk. My husband has now started pouring me a half-glass, and I'm quite happy with this. I can always have some more if I want it.
• I'm eating much, much more slowly. Most of the time, eating at home, yes, I usually do clear my plate still; but it takes much longer. Sometimes I'll leave some and come back to it ten minutes later.
• More than once in restaurants recently I have been faced with far more food than I want (or would have served myself) and have left the extra. [Just today, eating in a pub, I decided to treat myself to one of my favourites - an Eton Mess - and managed about three spoonfuls of the creamy concoction before I gave up and left it.]
• I've attended three different social or networking events where cakes were provided, and I haven't had one. These aren't just ordinary cake, but extremely delicious looking home-baked cupcakes or chocolate brownies. Anyone who knows me will realise that this last, particularly, is enough to prompt the question "Are you quite alright?".

... next post ...

Hypnotherapy

Jason mentioned on his website the technique of a 'virtual gastric band'. I knew instantly that this approach was not for me. I have real trouble coping with the idea of anybody having such an invasive surgical procedure except in cases of really desperate medical emergency; I would never countenance such a thing for somebody like myself, who is in no sense obese (although may psychologically feel that way at times). So to have hypnotherapy to make me think this procedure had been done ran counter to all my requirements for myself. What I wanted was a greater sense of strength and purpose for myself, my health, my lifestyle; a more realistic approach to who I am and who I could be.

Much to my relief, Jason completely understood this, and was perfectly happy to work with my particular view of the universe. We have had three sessions; my final one in the series is booked for this coming Saturday.

During this time, we've used a combination of hypnotherapy and NLP (NeuroLinguistic Programming) techniques to address some of the unwanted behaviours I've been struggling with for so long. The primary issues we've worked on have been

• my use of food to represent sharing, giving, community
• my inability to leave food & drink when I don't want any more
• my view of my own body

The last one was particularly interesting. I realised, during one conversation, that my view of my physical body was precisely the same now - weighing around twelve stone - as it was when I was eighteen years old, weighing three stone less. Which is perfectly ridiculous. My self image was identical thirty years ago to what it is now: overweight-clown-make-'em-laugh-big-tits. I always wanted to be elegant, poised, glamorous. I wanted to be like Helen Mirren, and I felt more like Barbara Windsor.

... next post ...