14th weigh-in just completed, and I’ve dropped two pounds this week. It’s great news, but to be honest I’m a little bit disappointed that it’s not more. Following a 1lb gain last week that was a little surprising, I was hoping that I might shift a bit more this week, but it wasn’t to be.
To show you just how desperate I was to lose more, I weighed myself at about 8:30 this morning, saw that I’d lost a couple of pounds, but decided to weigh myself again a little while later, once I’d done that thing that people do in the mornings that is pretty much guaranteed to make them lighter. It didn’t. So 2lb it is then.
Anyway, it’s been an interesting week. I didn’t react well to the 1lb gain last week, and went on a bit of a binge that very day. It wasn’t quite as straight forward as that – we went to visit relatives and they cooked a proper Sunday dinner for us. The meal was lovely, and I really enjoyed it, but I miscalculated in my head over the points, and ended up having just a couple left over for my tea at the end of the day. By the end of my tea, I had gone over by a few points, and ended up feeling so down about that, particularly as it was on top of a 1lb gain, that I just sat and snacked out.
No excuses, and it was a bit of a daft thing to do, but in some ways it was quite a positive experience. First of all, I was fully aware of what I was doing. This wasn’t some mindless feast of the terminally angry – I was just fed up, and wanted to do it. Secondly, even while I was snacking, I was making food choices – deciding not to snack on that, but to snack on this instead, as it had fewer points. Lastly, the result of about three hours of feasting? Just eight points. There’s six in a mars bar! Those eight points, when added on to the three I’d already gone over put me a grand total of 11 points over for the day. Not great, but not a huge problem either, and I made those points up the very next day by having a good swim and saving a few points.
I’ve exercised like crazy this week – four full 40 minutes stints in the pool of 60 lengths each. I’m aching, but in a good way.
Probably the best thing that’s happened to me this week was clothing related. One of the main things about being fat bloke is that you don’t often have good clothing related stories to tell, so excuse me if I indulge myself a little here.
A few months before I started this journey, I went to buy myself a Fred Perry top. Something of a throwback to my childhood, but something I really wanted to do. Anyway, went to a young-person’s clothing store to try one on, and just about fitted into the XXL, which was the largest size that they did. I loved that top, and actually brought myself a couple more over the coming weeks, which at £50 a throw was quite a break from my usual “buy the cheapest thing that covers your belly” attitude. They just fitted me at the time, and after a few washes, a couple of them were on the verge of not fitting me anymore.
Over the last few weeks, they’ve been looking a bit too big. Much, much too big really. I asked my good lady wife whether she thought I’d be able to fit into the next size down, and she suggested probably not, but it wouldn’t be long. Yesterday I went shopping. I tried on the XL and it fitted great. And if anything was a little on the large size :-). I’ve bought one so that I can enjoy this very same feeling again when it comes to time to move into the L, and I don’t think it will be all that long. Really, really pleased about that.
On the back of that experience, I decided this morning that I’m going to have a clear out of my clothes, and get rid of anything that doesn’t fit. My wife was supportive of the idea, but expressed one reservation. “I wouldn’t throw out the expensive tops, but definitely get rid of all the cheap ones, as they can always be replaced when…” and she stopped in mid-sentence, choosing not to add the final words “when you put the weight back on again”.
I’ve got something to prove here I think 🙂