Well it’s the start of December – the run up to Christmas – and for almost everyone in the western world it’s something of a hurdle to overcome with regard to food and drink indulgence. For my own part I think my head is very much ‘in the game’ at the moment, and SO FAR I’m not going quietly mad thinking about mince pies or Christmas cake.
(The author flipping loves Christmas cake and would probably sell a grandparent for a bite of some if he had any remaining to put price tags on)
I do have a Slimming World festive cookbook though and I plan to use it during the build up to the 25th December, although I have not yet decided what I’m going to prepare..
In the meantime if I want motivation all I have to do is open my eyes and look around me for milestones and reminders of how different things are now. These are continually keeping me on track.
As it’s the start of the month I’ve exported all of my fitness data from Apple Watch. Although my walking has been lower this month (thanks to my shin splints which nailed me in November) I’m still making progress in the 847 mile virtual walk from Lands End to John o Groats that I’ve been working on (original post here).
I think it’s pretty insane that since I started Slimming World I’ve walked almost 785 miles. Considering I barely left my armchair prior to joining my group it’s a pretty amazing turn around.
I also had the pleasure yesterday of dropping off the fourth (but not final) HUGE bin bag of clothes to Age UK’s charity shop in Warwick that no longer fit me.
Although it pains me to part with them (I estimate this pile of massive shirts and jeans represents purchases totalling well over £400 and I’m somehow going to have to buy a whole load more soon) I’m glad they’re going to a good place and will help to pay for an elderly person’s care or Christmas lunch.
There are some mixed feelings associated with parting with my clothes though. I’ve noticed recently an unexpected sentimentality related to items in my life that I feel have ‘helped’ me on my journey. My clothes hide a lot and have a tough life containing their expansive cargo.
I have taken a lot of photos of myself over the last few months in order to document my progress and ‘normalise’ my self image in my head. When I look at this pile and the photos I’ve posted in the past they all represent much happier memories than I expected, even when they are also associated with pain and embarrassment.
All of the above shirts hidden in the pile are little milestones in themselves. My striped blue 7x was what I was wearing when (not that long ago) I went to Birmingham on the train for the first time in years. I also remember regretting wearing it in the museum. My back was drenched in sweat and due to the colour of the shirt I felt it was really obvious. I had to stand with my back to a fan for 20 minutes to dry off.
My striped black shirt was something that I’d bought for a Christmas party many years before and it had only just become accessible to me again. I wore it to proudly march into Leamington to visit the pump room museum (which I’d never been to before because I couldn’t stand still for long periods). I was feeling pretty good about myself and puffed up with pride – then just as the thought passed through my mind I was immediately and comically brought back down to earth when I was crapped on by a pigeon.
My loud Hawaiian shirt (which due to it’s breezy translucency allowed me to burn all over my shoulders and chest in the sunshine) was what I wore to visit my friend at her Leamington ‘Art in the Park’ stall during the summer. I was hurting a lot from standing up mostly still that afternoon, but all of the pain melted away when later that evening I looked at the picture and unexpectedly saw my belt hanging down. It underlined immediately how much I’d lost at that point.
My blue check shirt (in the picture with my dad) was what I wore when visiting Aberystwyth. I climbed Constitution Hill for the first time in about 17 years in that shirt – but then simultaneously later that evening had one of my lowest points being abused by people because of my size and appearance as I walked around town.
The other black striped grandad shirt is just funny because I have a plum in my mouth.
Heh. Plums. Snigger.
So – today I’m in a great mood. I feel shamelessly and disgustingly proud of what I’ve done so far, and despite my innate British stiff upper lip and inbuilt reserve I feel like hopping up and down in the middle of the coffee shop that I’m currently sitting in.
It’s also partially due to the music I’m listening to – which propelled me at a frantic rate whilst walking here. It’s a freely available mashup of the Beastie Boys and Daft Punk by Coins (shared by Brumrah on Facebook a while ago). If you like either of their musical genres then you will love this. This best track I think is also on YouTube (if you fancy listening) here:
And that’s it for me today. The hunt for work must continue, as must my afternoon’s exercise.
Oh – and one other thing internet. I’m still experimenting with my Metformin (my type 2 diabetes medication) and I have currently brought my dose down from four a day with one Glimepiride to one Metformin in the morning and one in the evening.
I’m not being stupid about this. I’m gradually testing myself over several weeks to see what this does to my blood sugar and so far it’s doing… NOTHING. I’m still right where I should be (5.1 this morning).
I plan to keep it at this level for a few weeks and make sure that it’s not because it takes a while to have an effect. More to come on this in the coming weeks…