In the past, I have had a really unhealthy relationship with my weight or more specifically, my scales. I would weigh myself every day (in fact often several times a day) and what they told me would set my entire mood. Completely ridiculous of course. So when they broke a few years ago, I didn’t replace them and for so long it actually felt liberating not knowing what I weighed any more. I would occasionally measure myself with a tape measure if I was on a new exercise regime but for the most part, just going by how my clothes were fitting was a good enough gauge for me.
The only time that I have been weighed over the last few years was when visiting my nurse and she knows me so well that she never told me what the scales said. (And I’m guessing that she must have been happy with my weight from a medical point of view because surely it’s her job to tell me if I’m a fatty bum bum?) But at the beginning of November, I came across an old print out from a run of the mill check-up from back in February at the bottom of my handbag. My weight was written down in kilos which might as well have been in Mandarin – I only do weight in old money. But curiosity got the better of me and for whatever reason, I stepped on the scales at home (that had eventually been replaced by Mr Mostly at some point) Not only was I shocked by how much I weighed back in February once I had converted it into good old fashioned stones and pounds, I was even more shocked to realise that since then I had managed to put on another whole stone. Gulp.
I can’t blame having children on my weight gain. Not only is my ‘baby’ almost six, despite piling on the pounds during all of my pregnancies (and we are talking putting-on-over-four-stone-a-pop-and-the-size-of-a-house HUGE) by and large, it always fell straight back off. I was one of those annoying women who was back in her skinny jeans two weeks after having my fourth baby. I know, I would have hated me too but honestly my baby weight just fell off, I swear I didn’t so much as lift a finger to make it happen. I do think that my age has some part to play in my putting on weight though. There’s no question that my metabolism has slowed down now that I’m in my mid thirties (thirty six and three quarters is still officially mid thirties, right? It’s definitely not late thirties. No definitely definitely not.) I certainly can’t eat what I want anymore like I once could. And to be fair, it was seemingly quite easy to gain what? A pound or so a month? Without even really noticing. How scary is that? But excuses aside, I was overeating. It really was as simple as that. Sigh. I was kidding myself that I was okay while ever I could still squeeze into my size 12 clothes but the reality was that I was almost three stone heavier than when I met Mr Mostly nineteen years ago. Ouch. Talk about a wake up call.
So since November, I have been watching what I eat. I mean really watching what I eat and counting every calorie. I don’t deny myself anything and I am definitely not on a diet. Most of all, because diets don’t work in the long term, everyone knows that. No, the changes I’m making are changes that will stay with me forever more because I only plan on shifting this weight once. I can’t believe how I have let myself go and I won’t let it happen again. I started using the Slendertone Abs belt around the end of November and I wanted to get the most out of it so I think that definitely helped to spur me on in the earlier days especially when the results were so visible. But most of all, when it comes to food I have taught myself what moderation actually means. For example, I no longer kid myself that it’s okay to eat five chocolate hobnobs while I wait for the Nespresso to make me a latte because hey, it’s really not. I have been using an app on my phone to count my calorie intake each day and weigh myself about once a week. I’m making much healthier choices but I haven’t given anything up. Not even walnut whips. Well, especially not walnut whips. But actually I’ve learnt that one walnut whip a month won’t break the scales but half a dozen a week will. It’s not rocket science, is it?
I won’t pretend that it has been easy because it hasn’t and if I was on a diet, I am quite sure that I would have given up by now because it is taking me so long to lose these pesky pounds. In the first week I lost six pounds but then at best I have just been losing one or two pounds a week but most weeks, my weight stays exactly the same. I figure the longer it takes to shift it, the longer it will stay off so I will keep on plodding on. What I am doing is working it will just take time and that’s fine. So no, I don’t have any dramatic before and after pictures in fact other than losing a few chins, I’m not even sure that anyone would notice that I had lost any weight unless I told them. But since the beginning of November, I am really proud to say that I have lost fourteen pounds altogether. One whole stone. I still have a long way to go mind but it feels like a huge achievement seeing those scales move in the right direction.
So here’s to my new healthy relationship with my scales. Now that’s something I never thought possible!