9th September 2018
Right then, been a while aint it? My social media platforms have been like graveyards and I can hear the wails of desperation from you all as you contemplate life without Mellars (LWM for short). It’s alright though. I’m here. I can confirm that contrary to what you’ve been imagining I did not elope with Mary Berry and the Two Hairy Bikers for a pastry and fresh cream orgy. Fuck me there would be some ugly terrahawk babies from that coupling. Just be grateful you hadn’t imagined their soggy bottoms until today. Silver lining n all that. You’re welcome.
I don’t even know where to start to be honest. I went off all happy as Dave last time (I know it should be Larry but I don’t know a Larry, I do however know a few happy Dave’s so, you know, it’s Dave now), looking forward to getting life back and showing that fucking M.E. who was boss but it’s all gone to shit. I reckon it would be a bit brutal to start off with that though, because, well, you’d run off and I’d look a right prick. So I’m going to distract you with some other bits first.
So the good news first – I got into my first ever size 12 jeans. Like ever. I think I came out of the womb a 14 so this is HUGE for me. Now granted, they are those stretchy bastards but they’re not cutting off the circulation to my brain, or giving me a swollen camel toe round the vag area so I’m taking it as a win. It was a really odd feeling for me and I kept looking at them thinking they’d never fit. Even when I was at school I was in 14/16’s and to be honest, although I was chunkier than my friends it never really bothered me because I was curvy and it seemed to look “right” if that makes sense? If I’d had a size 8 or 10 physique then I’d have probably felt the same because you’re used to what you’ve got innit? I started piling on the beef pretty quickly when I started earning my own money as a teen. I had the freedom to spend my paper round money, and later my bakery money on whatever I wanted and fuck me could you buy a lot of Freddo’s and Space Raiders back then for a fiver. Later on as I got older and earned a bit more, it bought me vodka and chips and even a McDonalds if I was up to the epic journey into “town”. It was a brand new world to me, a world with no parents saying “no” and looking back I wish I’d been a bit more educated in deciphering what was a treat and what was “normal” because by the time I moved out at 18 and discovered that the Chinese would deliver me chips and curry sauce for the princely sum of £3 I had already jumped over to the fat side. There was no Jamie fucking Oliver banging on about turkey twizzlers or schools serving blocks of lard and pretending it was Lasagne; no one was arsed so long as the kids bellies were full. I’m not saying I would have definitely welcomed an education though because at that age you’re just not that arsed are you, you’re rebelling against anything and wondering if Big Cocked Barry fancied you. There’s nowt to say that I would have listened, or even chosen to act if someone had tried right enough – but I would have had the choice and I reckon that’s the difference. I was doing myself no favours by filling up on shite but I was genuinely ignorant to that at the time and by the time I clocked onto it… I was age 22 and ironically size 22.
The thing is, I was eating no differently to a lot of my friends when we were together, but my family is blessed with calorie osmosis (we can walk by a packet of crisps and gain 43lbs instantly) and I was one of the few who moved out and gained their independence early. I struggle to feel hungry even now but back then I had no one badgering me to eat so I’d live purely on a cheese sandwich for 3 days and only be reminded to eat when I was in work and other people were….. so then I’d eat 2 packets of Dorito’s and a snickers rather than a meal. It was fucking stupid but it wasn’t gluttony and I couldn’t really ever understand why the weight kept going on. Well that was until I moved away from Scotland and down to Sussex. My ex was a vegetarian who had a mammoth appetite and I found I enjoyed cooking, so when he ate, I ate and I still had my crisps so the weight kept piling on. He used to go out cycling and enjoy long walks, I used to enjoy telling him to get the fuck out of my face so we worked well. Except, I clocked that he was burning off the calories I was feeding him while I was sat on my fat arse with a bag of Mistrels wondering what the fuck I was still doing with him. It had to change.
At some point though I’d had enough; I was looking in the mirror and not enjoying my reflection which was new for me. Even as a bigger girl I always thought I looked “alright” until then. At that point I had no other choice to admit I was turning into a Fraggle Catcher and they’re not bonny creatures really.
So I changed. I went to my first ever fat club and I shifted about 3 stone bringing me down to a size 16/18 and I was much happier. I was also shit at keeping the weight off too apparently because it wasn’t long before I chucked it all back on again and an extra half stone for good measure. Something in me always gave up; I just didn’t want it hard enough to be honest. I was alright being a bit fat it seemed.
Losing weight this time though has been for entirely different reasons; it’s allowed to me to control one tiny wee corner of life in amongst a shower of turds raining down on me but it’s worked. I’m lighter now than I’ve been since I was age 14, and I’m far happier with what I see in the mirror but…. these last few weeks something’s struck me: it’s not healthy. Not only is my body not healthier, but it’s also becoming really unhealthy upstairs in my noggin when I think of food. I’m beating myself up every time I go off plan, I’m dreading going on the scales in case I’ve “failed” and I’m saying no to very normal things like a cup of tea or coffee because I’d be going over my milk allowance. That’s no way to fucking live is it? It’s not sustainable and it’s not normal.
To be clear, that’s not fat clubs fault; it’s mine. I’m stubborn and I hate failing but I got into a bit of a panic wondering what I would do when I got to this mystical target of mine and I knew; I would go fucking mental and live on puff pastry goods until I was right the way back to where I started….. and I really don’t want to do that. So I’ve made a choice. I am absolutely staying on the wagon, BUT I’m going to relax a little. I will be going to my classes weekly, I will be staying on plan when there’s no reason not to; but if Christiaan and I fancy a snuggly movie with some treats I’m having them. I am not eating dry tasteless fucking popcorn and pretending it’s doused in toffee; and I’m not going to beat myself up after either. I *think* I’m OK with the occasional gain and I am definitely OK with it taking me the next 6 months to get to my 5 stone award (currently 10lbs away). In short I want to have a normal balanced diet and I’d rather nail that now than drive myself forward at speed to get to a “target” and then go fucking mental on sausage rolls when I get there. That’s the one thing that fat clubs are really shit for addressing; the psychological after effects of being overweight because very few people shift their weight and become this beautifully transformed butterfly who HATES fried food. We all still crave the bad stuff and because we’ve now achieved what we need to, we revert back to eating the way that got us there in the first place, thinking and hoping we can control it a bit better this time round. Newsflash: the vast majority of us won’t, we’ll put it all back on and some more again.
So, this is self preservation of a different sort. It’s looking at food as fuel and not as a treat for doing something good, or a comfort for having something bad happen. I want to enjoy it but I also want to enjoy my reflection… and feed my body the right sorts of shit rather than solely the wrong sorts. I have absolutely no idea how it’s going to go but last night I had 3 slices of pizza, some crisps, and a some haribo so it’s too fucking late to turn back now innit? Greedy fat bastard that I am.
I’ll be alright with a gain this week though… honest… (don’t hold me to that tomorrow, I’m still learning). Just as well really because it’s not been the best week for trying to hold down eating of any form; primarily because I’m utterly utterly fucked and it was one battle I could let go of easily.
I know you know that already, I know you’ll have guessed by the way I went radio silent and hid from you all for days. Hands up – I’ve been licking my wounds, I’m busted. Going back to work has destroyed me. Yes, even “just” those 2 hours a day Wed-Fri. For a huge amount of reasons it won’t be the slow and steady return I’d hoped for, and I found myself on Wednesday fessing up to my colleagues what I have, how it’s going to slow me down and just how hard I’m going to find it via email. This is not a version of Sarah they will be used to. The version of Sarah who could move mountains and denied she was poorly has her out of office on and the Sarah who struggles to move a malteaser is firmly in place. I think it’s fair to say that it’s going to take everyone a long time to adjust; me more than anyone.
I was so so excited to get back. I logged on and after I navigated the password changing mayhem in every system I had access to I was good to go. An hour in and I could feel my brain start fizzing and my body crying but I had a call to attend, my first call in months, so I pushed through….by the end of that I couldn’t speak. Christiaan had to help me upstairs and into bed. I slept for three hours and I could have kept on but for Eli coming home. To say it hadn’t gone well was an understatement; this was how it left me.
2 hours people. That’s all it took for me to get into this state and I’ll be honest, it really shook my confidence. I knew calls would be difficult, I knew I would struggle to listen to the different voices, look at what was on the screen, read my instant messages and process what was going on but I don’t think I really grasped just how difficult it would be.
So I had a decision to make; was I really ready? Did I go back too soon? Was my pride pushing me on when really I should have listened to everyone telling me to stay off. I have no idea what the correct answers to those questions are but I do know that I was never going back to work because I “felt better”, I was going back to work to see where I could baseline in terms of my own capability because if this is permanent (please Jeebus no) then I need to try and mould some form of normal life around it. So, am I ready – No. Did I go back too soon – possibly but that’s a huge unknown because we have no idea which side of the fence this will land. Was my pride pushing me – absofuckinglutely and you know what? It was my pride that got my arse out of bed on Thursday and Friday and did my working hours too and it’ll be my pride that does the same this week because; I do not want to be someone who doesn’t work.
Now, before you all go Mother Hen on me – I know. I know that if I push too hard that I may break and end up in a far worse place for a long time. I’m really really aware of what’s at stake and I promise you, that if this is unmanageable then there will be no option but to bow down gracefully…… but it would be daft to make that decision based on my first week back. It was ALWAYS going to be hard, and yes I’ve been hit far harder than I thought I would be but I’m a cocky twat and I likely underestimated what was going to happen.
So I’m going to keep going but I’m going to realistic – there’s too much at stake to get this wrong, not only with my physical health but the detriment it has to Christiaan and my family when they have to watch my decline. It’s not pleasant for anyone; I know all of this and I won’t be selfish about it.
What HAS been a positive is that I’ve still managed to enjoy my time with my wee family this weekend despite feeling like this. It’s been quieter than normal but there have been sparks of activity. We had been invited to a wee ones birthday party yesterday so made it out for an hour before Eli decided he’d had enough and wanted to go home. That kid is something else, honestly. There was party food – he ate none of it, there was a soft play bit – he played for a while then declared he was “finished now, shoes on, in the car Daddy”. He gave none of the fucks that I was catching up with three of my Mum pals I don’t get to see very often, or that I was enjoying the peace and quiet. Selfish little git. We nipped into my folks on the way back, had a cuppa and then home for what is fast becoming our favourite activity – “snuggling in”.
This pic is from a few days ago – if you’re on the Facebook page you’ll have seen it already actually but it’s a true reflection of how a lot of our time indoors is spent together. Under a blanket, in elasticated clothing, watching films. I am fucking ecstatic with this new development. It means I get to rest, and nod off if I need to. I get to stretch my legs and take the weight off my bones and it means that I get to be very very close to my two favourite people in this whole wide world.
So you see, life may be a challenge but… I’m a lucky fucker really.
I’ll write again as soon as I’m able.
- I am back at work….
- The office set up is working absolutely fine and although the new curtains look fucking terrible compared to the ones I had up before – they stop the sun burning my eyeballs out….. which is nice.
- I’ve made a pretty big decision about slowing down my weight loss – I feel it’s healthier and more sensible, I’m just hoping it works for me. I’ll still be updating my Insta with all the fat club meals I make by the way – this is not me giving up or in.
- I’ve had a huge amount of support from you lot and I want to say thanks to everyone who dropped me a line and asked if I was OK – it’s incredible to think that I know very few of you personally and yet you seem to care and take the time to get in touch. I’m really touched actually and not in a pervy way
- Low lights
- Where the fuck do I start. Well I may be back at work but I’m broken and I have no idea yet how sustainable that is going to be, or if it’s going to get worse… watch this space
- My boys are currently out stomping round the park and for month number 5 I am missing from that equation. It’s starting to really get me down that my physical health is still declining. It may be time to consider a fucking scooter. Can you get spokey dokeys for them?
- I’ve not been able to write for a while and when I have felt like the fog has lifted I didn’t think it wise to divert my energy here rather than doing day to day stuff.
- I seem to have lost quite a few people on the Facebook page too these last few weeks – they probably think I’m dead. Imagine their fucking surprise when they realise I’m not? I COULD BE LIKE JEZUZ AND BE A ZOMBIE???? Acht in all seriousness, it’s always disappointing when I see people leave but I know it’s not personal; social media is very fickle and what appeals to someone one day won’t be the top of their agenda the next. Unless it’s WISH. Those fuckers are determined I need to buy all leggings with a hole in the side, and some anal beads. More random than a shop at Aldi.
- What’s on the menu Mellars? Well this section is going to be interesting going forward innit?
- Breakfast – Bacon sarnie, on white bread with brown sauce and butter. BOOM.
- Lunch – Negative – I’m not hungry
- Dinner – Pulled pork, chips and salad… see I’m not totally fucking feral. I will be doing fat club meals you know.
- I post pics regularly on my Instagram account if you want pics of some of this grub by the way – you’ll find a link to follow me here: CLICK HERE my pics all look like road kill but if I post a pic it’s because its tasty. OR wank and you should avoid making the mistake. Whatever. There may also be pictures of cats and kids. Not included in the meal… I’m not an animal.
TOTAL WEIGHT LOST TO DATE: 4 STONE 4LBS
Are you new round here?
If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.
- Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
- Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
- When are the grown ups coming?
- Major surgery…again?
- You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?
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ME Blogger extraordinaire… a bit of a shit one, granted.