JUST LOOK AT ME!
It’s fucking disgusting.
I see an old, fat lady. An old, fat, grey-haired woman. And I hate it.
But I’ll stuff my face with carbs tonight, so help me.
You might say my job makes it hard to lose weight, baking for a living. But I don’t even eat that much of my baking. I’d rather eat cookies than cake or cupcakes, and whilst I LOVE ganache, I only make it occasionally.
Years ago, when my son was in primary school, my sister gave me her gym card ‘coz we looked so much alike. She wasn’t using it so I did (I know! I know!), several times a week. The knucklehead would swim or do the toning circuit, and I’d do the treadmills and stuff. We were there early as I finished work at 2pm, so we had our pick of the equipment.
Then I got my own gym membership. I never went.
Biggest waste of money EVER.
My Glugster and I once joined a programme where they cook your meals for you beforehand, and you collect the frozen meals with a meal plan for snacks and stuff, and it was going really well until I found fly eggs in my one meal.
We saw a dietitian too, once a month for almost 18 months. She worked out a really great plan for each of us, including stuff we like to eat, and I lost 9kg in the first couple of months. Then I gained it back. Working out what to cook and preparing it was just too much schlep. KFC or pasta is far easier.
Eventually we agreed that we were wasting our medical aid seeing her since we weren’t making any progress. She even offered to let me pop in and weigh myself on her scale once a week, at no charge!
I joined Weigh-Less once too. I paid my fees for a year, and I went to the weigh-ins and followed the diet… for all of 3 months.
If my Glugster doesn’t suggest a walk around the block, it won’t happen.
This is me in December 2007 (the sour expression is ‘coz I wasn’t expecting the picture to be taken). This was fifteen months after I had my hiatus hernia repair operation, which got rid of my constant heartburn but also helped me lose weight as I couldn’t eat more than a teacup full of food in a sitting.
My stomach is now well and truly stretched again. They had to use some of it to fix my hernia in 2006, so even if I wanted to, I can’t go and have my stomach stapled ‘coz there isn’t enough of it.
Meds would work for me, but doctors and dietitians don’t prescribe the stuff that really works.
I don’t drink enough water. I know this. My fingertips are wrinkled and I wake up with a headache, but I still don’t do anything about it.
I’m teetering on the brink of diabetes, hence my bubble-on-toothpicks appearance, but that doesn’t stop me eating either.