Thursday, 21 April 2011


I have managed to squeeze you in today. Life has gone a bit Weight Watchers mad. I'm not sure I particularly like it, although it has given me a new found respect for working mothers. I used to think they had an easy ride of it but I may well have had that wrong. My brain aches from being split in so many different directions and I feel guilty about everything.
So to get you caught up, I made it safely home from Bristol on Sunday evening, picked up the big children from my sister's in Kent on Monday (George took one look at me and shouted that he did NOT want to go home; nice), drove back home from Kent and then went to yet another Weight Watchers meeting in the evening.  I weighed in my first new member and managed to imply that she might want to cry at the result. Clearly not the official wibblies way, which they had painstakingly tried to instill in me at training, but she had weighed in at 20st 9lbs and she showed no emotion or reaction whatsoever so I felt I had to fill the silence. I managed to back track slightly by saying that was what I had done when I first weighed in (I hasten to say I did not, as I thought the leader had written my weight down wrongly as I could not possibly weigh that much, such was my delusion). I kind of thought anything over 20st was a given for tears, but it is all a learning curve. Hey ho.

I'm still struggling with the idea of me being in a position of authority when it comes to weight loss, not only as I am still a stone from my goal, but I managed to gain two pounds over the training weekend. There was no special food provided for us, it was just normal hotel fayre and two of the three meals a day were buffet style, which was an incredibly dangerous state of affairs for fifteen confirmed over eaters. On the final day, knowing that we weren't going to eat a free three course evening meal, we all made the most of the final free buffet lunch. Some of the women even made the waiter open up a closed food stand so we could all carry on gorging on chocolate raisins. For the rest of the afternoon I had to sit with my belt and top button undone and slouched down in the chair so that my body didn't bend in the middle. That is also, very much, not the Weight Watchers way which, for those wondering is 'Eat until you are comfortably satisfied, not uncomfortably full.' Just do as I say, not as I do. Shockingly there are rumours filtering down from the area manager via my leader that I might not be sticking to the plan

Actually I am getting quite sick of talking about myself, I have to start all my training meetings by telling  my weight loss 'success' story and I am now quite fed up with it.  I even had to do it today at the excitingly entitled 'Admin and etally training' (at Gatwick airport which is cruel - show us people jetting off to exciting Easter breaks and then stick us in a cold conference room at the Holiday Inn and make us look at spreadsheets before releasing us into rush hour traffic). I did my first meeting in its entirety yesterday. I don't want to go into all the dull details but I was petrified, particularly as I had my trainer watching and assessing me. It turns out I don't handle pressure very well. I don't handle tension of any kind actually. I like my little life where the most exciting thing to happen is an impromptu coffee morning invite. Now I have a constant stress over the next part of my training, not only the actual event but also the childcare arrangements which need to be in place before I can even leave the house. Thankfully the manny is still around - but only just - he is sort of back at work although nothing is totally confirmed. It is too confusing to try and explain so I shall await concrete confirmation before I bore you with the details.

I have never dealt with pressure or stress - I can't even watch a tense film - and that includes some Disney ones. Any tension whatsoever is too much for me. I like my world simple and stress free. I think I was overburdened with the empathy gene as well as the lazy gene, so I tend to imagine the feelings of the actors on screen far too acutely.  Basically this rules out me enjoying any film including kidnap, horror, potential horror, murder, any death, any suspense, any violence, any drug taking, scary looks, villainous acts of any description etc - so that leaves me with some kids films and all rom coms. (Which is why in my world there is always a happy ending and an eloquent and charming man to say the right thing at just the right time - bet you're all wishing you lived in my world now). For any of those who have watched Lazy Town, I sometimes get far too worried that Robbie Rotten might actually get the better of Stephanie and Sportacus and have, at times, had to leave the room. Bea and George get quite annoyed by me already. I think I could improve upon this so that by the time they are pre-teens I am totally, mortifyingly embarrassing in front of them and their friends. I have already worked out some incredibly embarrassing mum-dancing. I shall begin unveiling it at their Auntie's wedding - Bea is definitely at an age where she understands and by next summer she will be seven and a half which is prime embarrassing territory. 

With the wedding in mind, I will leave you on an 'ahhhh' note, as my sister has asked me to do the father of the bride speech at her wedding (for those not up to speed, the father of the bride is sadly deceased so it's an honour not a snub). I was truly choked up when I saw the text (little sister is not one to waste time talking to family), although obviously I am now very stressed about it too. She hasn't even booked the venue yet so it will be a long, drawn out tension. To alleviate some of the worry, I shall be testing out amusing anecdotes on you over the next twelve months and will need constructive feedback.

I am dangerously close to over eating right now, so I must leave you quickly and go to bed so that there is a floor between me and the chocolate (lazy gene prevents me descending the stairs after final ascension).  Ciao x

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