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 ...

I'm still here

I know it's been months since I wrote. That's because I had very little to report. Now; a little. But it is progress.

In that last couple of updates, last spring, I was taking comfort from the support of various friends, and that helped a lot. However, I didn't get any further with getting my head back into the right place; nor my body.

The steroid injection on my foot didn't have any lasting effect; maybe because (as I've read) the Plantar Fasciitis is more to do with damage than with inflammation, so it did no more good than an overdose of painkiller; maybe as a result of the onstage running around that I was doing in the farce I was acting in at the time (up and down stairs, across the stage, round the gallery - dear me. In heels. Not in trainers. Painful). Either way, we're now two years on from when it began, and I'm no better off than when it started.

I much enjoyed a yoga session with the beautiful Barbara Ives - and was planning to attend one of her classes; I then sustained a really nasty strain to my calf during the aforementioned play, and the class didn't happen. The rehearsals took up loads of time. We went on holiday. And so on, and so on.

We had a wonderful holiday in July/August, followed by a brief visit to some friends in the Midlands. Both wonderful experiences. However, the photographs of me on both occasions sent me back into the deepest state of panic.

OK, sitting next to one of my slimmest friends in the first photo wasn't a bright move; and the really short haircut in the second one was a bad mistake. But it wasn't good. I could have done without that many 'before' photos in one hit.

I returned from holiday at my heaviest ever: 12 stone 3. That's 171 lb. As is usually the case, took a few sessions back at the gym; panicked; tried cutting the food down; panicked some more.

***

I read a posting on FaceBook from a friend and local business colleague, Claire Bunton (who specialises in the appearance: she is an image consultant). Claire mentioned her recent very positive work on weight loss with a hypnotherapist: Jason Edwards. I read his website, including all the commentary about NLP techniques (which I've done some training in myself in the past). I was intrigued.

We had been lucky enough to have a small financial windfall over the summer (which paid for new glasses for my husband, among other things) and said husband was happy for me to invest a little more of it in this possibility. So off I went.

... next post ...

Lots to think about

That last post was written in a fit of the serious poor-mes. I was hugely touched and encouraged by the beautiful responses I had, on this blog, on Facebook and by email, from several people - both dear friends and complete strangers - and it gave me lots of food for thought.

The important conclusion to come out of this is not about whether or not I need to lose a little weight. I know that I do. At twelve stone, I'm mercifully not obese, but I am definitely overweight - from a medical, healthy point of view, it's too much weight for a woman of 5'5". I'm carrying around some twenty pounds' excess strain on the heart, the back and all other bits of my anatomy. My blood pressure isn't yet dangerously high, but it's high enough for the nurse to call me back for an extra check and to caution me that she's not happy with it.

The actual numbers in my clothes sizes aren't that meaningful (let's face it, when I'm a size 14 in M&S, I'm a 12 in East and an Extra Large in Zara); but when I'm on the 12-14 racks, the whole bod feels better able to carry out its daily routine efficiently. And efficiency has always been important to me.

When, back in the summer of 2007, I had settled at roughly 10 stone 7, I was genuinely happy with my body, probably for the first time in my life - especially as it had been achieved by very little "dieting" and a lot of exercise, so was actually in far better shape than when I'd been even lighter in the past.

The trouble is that I was so thrilled to be bien dans ma peau, as the French so eloquently put it, that in my mind it meant that a very specific equation was formed: namely, ten-stone-seven = the right weight for me = attractive. Logically, therefore, twelve-stone = too heavy for me = unattractive.

The fear of getting dressed in the morning (faced with a wardrobe that is 75% useless) means that I might do two hours' work at the desk in my towelling robe before getting as far as the shower, unable to face the body and the wardrobe. I am likely to have a panic attack when "getting dressed up" because I'm limited to the two pairs of black trousers and one pair of jeans that I can wear with any comfort. And because my eighteen months in "the right place" was so happy, I had worked on the basis that I'd no longer need the 14-to-16 range... ach, we've all been there.

So where does this get me now? Trying, very hard, to think clearly. It is possible for me to be attractive at my present weight and size; it's just a different kind of sexy. It's not a place I especially want to stay, purely for reasons of health, but it will do, and is not by definition a place of ugliness. Wow - there's a concept.

So I've been to the gym twice this week, used the exercise bike three times, and been trying to eat sensibly. I'll have my steroid injection on Thursday, and see where it gets me. And I'll believe my lovely husband, and my dear friends, and those complete strangers who care enough to take time to send me good thoughts and best wishes. My thanks and love to them all.

***

I was supposed to be running the Norwich Race for Life today. My foot has been so bad that I can barely walk on it at the moment, much less run. What did I do instead? I went to see my lovely friend Kayla for a long-overdue waxing session (ouch) and back massage & facial (wonderful). A bit ironic, really, but I suppose I can live with that.

In the meantime, I am so proud of those friends of mine who have run or will run this race in aid of cancer research: Kinga, Tracy, Linda and my lovely friend Kim. I hope to be back with you next year.

Not good

I thought a bit of determination was going to help. I really did enjoy that Sports Mile. But (who knows why: wrong shoes? not enough training?) the heel took a turn for the worse afterwards. For the last month, instead of just being uncomfortable first thing and after a long walk or running attempt, it's hardly stopped hurting at all, with the result that I feel crocked and old.

I have done a few gym sessions, a few walk-runs; and then I went out with Kim and another friend of hers, Jan, for a walk-run. Lovely route, mostly on soft but even forest floor; lots of pauses to stretch; probably about 25% walking, rest running, but certainly not fast. I spent most of the session in some pain; by the time I drove home, I was literally in tears: both from the frustration of being unable to enjoy such a beautiful evening and an activity I loved, and from the pain of it.

That was a week ago, and I think I've got to admit that the Race for Life is just not going to happen. Running through pain, putting up with muscle aches, all that's fine; but this is more than that, and a really intense pain that isn't going away.

I've finally been to the doctor and booked to have a steroid injection on 6th May. I'm not looking forward to it; I've been warned that it will hurt, and that it may not even work; but I don't know what else to do.

To add insult to injury, this morning I weighed in at 12 stone exactly - the heaviest I've ever been in my life, and one pound above my starting weight back in 2007. I have three pairs of trousers that fit me; 75% of my wardrobe (at least) is unusable. I am fighting hard, the whole time, not to disappear into a black depression, because it's affecting every part of my life, and I am not a good person to be with right now.

I hope the injection works. Otherwise I just don't know what to do. And of course, as that physical feel-good factor is no longer possible, what's the replacement? Food, of course.

I am deeply ashamed and sorry for the lack of inspiration, as I was so proud of what I achieved, but right now I feel worthless and deeply unattractive. I just hope I find a way out of it.

Chuffed to bits

Sport Mile this morning with Kim. First problem was that I had to use my old trainers - as the usual ones were in my gym kit, which I'd left in the car last night, and the car had gone off with my husband when he left to do the Sunday services!!

A glorious spring day, perfect conditions. Lots of folk there, so very slow at times, but a lovely atmosphere. I used my Runkeeper software on the iPhone (as the sensor for the Nike+ was on on the trainers in the car...) and was at first disappointed that the "mile" seemed to be only 0.77 of a mile. However, on arrival home I checked, and by comparing it with the official map, it was clear that the satnav signal had been lost from time to time, resulting in corner-cutting of the route - that is, the iPhone cutting corners, not me! So it turned out to be 0.98 miles in 10:35, which given how little training I've done recently was not half bad. And although some bits were very slow, this was mostly because of the large crowds - good to know I could have gone a little faster! (said the whiting to the snail...)

The really annoying part was that the only thing stopping me continuing to do at least one further mile-lap was the heel. While the leg muscles ached a bit, I could happily have run further, if it weren't that the plantar fasciitis in the heel was quite sharp by the end of that mile, and painful for the rest of the day. So I'm definitely going to contact the doctor for information about a cortisone injection to see if that helps. I so want to have a really good run, and to be able to do a proper job in the Race for Life; and today's run reminded me just how much I had enjoyed it.

The girls are back in town.

A mile tomorrow

Foot better today (but still sore; will go see doctor, running shop etc. next week). However, will run the Sport Relief mile tomorrow morning.

If anybody fancies sponsoring me in this, my first run for 18 months, please click here. Sport Relief deserves it.