I had maybe three hours’ sleep last night. This has been the norm rather than the exception over the last week. Fuck the diet. Fuck the weigh ins. Sugar is the only reason I make it through each day.
Fuck it all.
Wednesday weigh-in, my weight loss journey, week 2/26
Welcome to my Wednesday weigh-in, this is the second in a series of posts about my weight loss journey (I hesitate to say ‘success’, although I’m hopeful) over six months. If you’d like to read where it all began, then you can see the first in the series here.
We’ve all been ill this week, all four of us. It’s hard enough to keep eating well when you feel like crap yourself, but when you have two sick children who spend all night waking you up it’s nigh on impossible. Nothing like being bone-crushingly exhausted to really make you crave sugar and lots of it. So I’ve failed utterly on last week’s goals, despite having got off to a good start on the first day with an early morning yoga session and lots of water. After that I drank not enough water, ate refined carbs and sugar like they were going out of fashion, snacked on biscuits and cake and dragged myself along at a very slow walking pace. Rubbish! The only thing I’ve stuck at was eating smaller portions, but I doubt that did the job bearing in mind all the goodies. Oh well. Another week, another weigh in. I’ll just have to try harder and hope I feel better soon.
Wednesday weigh-in, my weight loss journey, week 1/26
Welcome to my Wednesday weigh-in, the first in a series of posts about my weight-loss journey (I hesitate to say ‘success’, although I’m hopeful) over six months. I’m sure I’m not alone, as a woman, in struggling to stay happy with my body. Having had two children I now find it both easier and harder all at the same time. On the one hand I am agog at what my body has achieved: grown two beautiful, perfect human beings from nothing, birthed them, fed them from my body, nurtured them in my arms – I mean wow, right? Then on the other hand I have stretch marks from my hips to my lower ribs, the glorious C-section overhang, a wibbly tummy, boobs that (whilst miraculous sustainers of life) are unwieldy as to size and firmness and I just generally look and feel slightly run down and overweight.
