#fitbyforty, 400s, bicycle, exercise, fitness, hamilton water palace, spinning

I Think That Spinfit Has Killed Me

6th April 2018

Okay, so the title’s a bit… overly dramatic. But I might have died. Maybe.

Not for any serious reason, but…


You Spin Me Right ‘Round Baby

I went back to Spinfit today. I got the bus into the West Station and then walked as fast as I possibly could to the Hamilton Water Palace because I was a two-minute walk away from the bus stop WHEN THE BUS LEFT, so I had to wait for the next one, which didn’t leave the most time to get to the gym in a timely manner for my class.

I managed my usual leisurely eight minute walk in 6 minutes. Which I’m quite proud of! I managed to get to class with 4 minutes to go until start. Got my bike ready. Changed my shoes, peed, got back to class, and – after getting help from the instructor to raise my handlebars, which were stuck – sat down on a Spinfit Bike for the first time since LAST MARCH.

Now, I will be entirely honest: I am not looking forward to exercising again. I hurt more than I did last March. I’m going to be under mucho stress until the start of June, because it’s my final unit of second year. But I don’t care how much I don’t want to exercise. I need to. I am seriously unfit, and just having done that Spinfit class this afternoon was agony.


My shoulders hurt from leaning forward on the handlebars, which you’re not supposed to do. My feet hurt from being A) in spin shoes and B) in the pedals, all weight thrown onto the balls of my feet and my toes. My back was actually surprisingly fine. The whole area between my legs is a ball of fire from sitting on the tiny bike seat.

I am OUT OF SHAPE. I know I wasn’t exactly fit when I was living on my own, but I was a damn sight better than I am right now.

I gotta change that.

Next week, I’m still off on holiday so I might see about going down to the Jock Stein to do basic cardio + weights. Spinfit on Friday. I need to increase it slowly, or I’m absolutely not going to stick this out.

And I have to.


babble, food, non-scale victory, story of my life, weight loss, weight watchers

In Which I Drag Mum Back To Weight Watchers

8th February 2018

I’ve been back at Weight Watchers since September now, and I’ve been up and down so much you’d think I was on a rollercoaster, or someone was playing me like a yo-yo.

Nope. I joined with best intentions, but between having to have my cat put to sleep last year, and my Aunt dying at the start of this year, plus stress from so much work for college, my brain hasn’t exactly been in the best place to deal with weight loss. I understand that it can’t really be simpler than “track everything, don’t go over your points, and do your exercise as much possible,” but all I’ve really wanted to do for the past 6 months has been to eat crap. As much crap as possible. The more the merrier, in fact. My head has not been in the game.

I signed up to Sugar-Free February in aid of Cancer Research UK a few weeks ago, and I’ve just finished week 1. I feel a little irritable, a lot headachey, but I lost 2.5lbs this week, which is excellent.

Bringing Mum Back To Weight Watchers

Mum was talking about how she had to get her eating and her weight in check, so I asked her if she wanted to come to Weight Watchers with me. She rejoined on Tuesday, so hopefully with Mum also following the plan, it’ll be easier for me to stick to it.

Of course, I still have breakfast and lunch to deal with when I’m at college, but I’ll see how that goes. I still have plans to pack my lunch every day to A) eat healthier and B) save money, but so far I’ve managed a whole one day, oops.

I think my head’s back in the right place for everything else, though. I’ve not had the urge to binge at all this week, which is probably because I ordered Domino’s the night before I started this challenge month, so my cravings were sated a little.

I’ve still got three weeks to go, though, so I don’t wanna brag like, “Oh this is so easy, why didn’t I do this earlier?!” It’s definitely not easy. It’s really effing hard, in fact, and I bow down to people who have fully gotten on board with the whole sugar-free thing. If any of them are reading this: please send prayers. I may need them.

Donate To FATGIRLslim’s Sugar-Free February Challenge

I’d be really grateful if you could donate to my fundraising page, in aid of Cancer Research UK. This month, I’m challenging myself to remove added sugar – sweets, chocolates, ice cream etc – from my diet, and I’m also attempting to give up soda for the month (although I had some in the first three or four days because Mum bought a few bottles by accident). Others are also taking the challenge to raise money for cancer research by doing exactly the same.

If you’d like to donate, please follow the link below. If you cannot afford to donate but would still like to help spread the word, please feel free to share my giving page!


babble, mental health, photos, story of my life

In Which I’m Grieving The Loss Of A Family Member

9th January 2018

This is not the greatest start to 2018. Not by a long shot. Please bear in mind that I’m still grieving my cat, Twig.

I was getting ready to go back to college this morning. Had an appointment at physiotherapy to see what they could do to help my knees (stretches and exercises to strengthen the knee joint, and help improve muscle mass and flexibility – I can’t remember if it’s the VMU or VLU muscle that’s apparently weak. The one on the inside of the leg.) so I got to have a lie-in, and got up, and before I’d even gone to the bathroom to pee, my Mum turned to me (their computer room is next to my bedroom, and both Mum and Dad tend to spend an hour or so in the morning on the computer doing stuff before going about their daily routine) and said:

“Helen’s dead.”

My Aunty Helen (left) with my big sister, Linda, on Linda's wedding day, 2014

My Aunty Helen (left) with my big sister, Linda, on Linda’s wedding day, 2014

Family History

When I was younger – I’m talking 20-odd years ago – I got into a fight in school with a friend. Someone told me that she’d been spreading rumours that I’d been sexually assaulted when I was in Primary School. Turns out that the rumour that she’d been spreading rumours wasn’t true, but the fact that I’d been sexually assaulted obviously was. I still don’t know who told who, or why the rumours started, but that was the truth. My Uncle Thomas – my Mum’s youngest brother – sexually abused me and my sister over the span of almost a decade. I told my parents, we got the police involved, someone fucked up, and he was free to live his happy life, marry, and have kids. We had to live with the scars of it, including the fact that, despite his admittance of guilt to the police when he was taken in, he got off scot-free. My mother’s side of the family also stood by him, despite his admittance of guilt and the fact that my Mum’s Dad was also more than a little abusive to his kids and his wife.

My Aunty Helen started talking us again a few years later. I still can’t remember how or why, but the fact remains that Helen is the only sibling my mother talks to.

You Can’t Choose Your Family (but if I did, I wouldn’t have chosen these assholes)

My Aunty Helen’s husband, Uncle Robert, died in 2001, and was buried on my 18th birthday. My big sister, Linda, attended the funeral, but none of the rest of us did. The rest of Mum’s siblings were going to be there, and I was terrified about facing Thomas King for the first time since I was about 11.

Of course, Mum’s siblings are also going to be there at Aunty Helen’s funeral, whenever it happens – they’re doing a post-mortem, so it might take a week or two? IDK. I’ve luckily not had to sort out a funeral for a human thus far. I will be attending my Aunty Helen’s funeral. I will have to try my hardest to not launch an all-out tirade at the dickless wonders who call themselves the Kings and their significant others and offspring. IT’S MY GODDAMN AUNT’S FUNERAL.

Eating My Feelings

This is the problem: I’m an emotional eater. I eat when I’m bored. I eat when I’m sad. I eat when I’m upset. I eat when I’m grieving. I eat when I’m mourning. I eat when I’m numb.

I’m currently in the “numb” stage. I broke down crying on the way to physio this morning. I emailed my lecturers and told them I wouldn’t be coming in this week. I’m sitting here and I feel like I can’t feel anything, like maybe it’s a nightmare I’ll wake up from in a few hours’ time.

It’s not.

When I came out of physio this morning, I went to Sainsbury’s to get food. I got food at the café and then realised that I’d probably get home around lunchtime, so went into the store and bought new socks in the sale (unicorns, and rainbows, and a pair of musical Santa slipper socks) and two slices of cheesecake and clotted cream and a tube of Pringles.

Mum ate the other slice of cheesecake (café latte flavour; not coffee-ish enough for our liking, but the cheesecake was half decent), and I ate the tub of Pringles in a single sitting, not even paying attention to them. A tub of Pringles has about 1000 calories in it.

I’m just counting my lucky stars that that’s all I brought home. It could have been worse.

It didn’t make me feel any better. My Aunt is still dead. We’re still grieving.

There’s no waking up from that.

babble, mental health, randomosity, story of my life

The Problem With Blogging For More Than A Decade…

23rd November 2017

…is that eventually, you’re bound to run out of ideas of what to say. I mean, I’ve been blogging via FATGIRLslim since 2004, and a lot has changed since then. Blogging is not like it used to be.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not quitting, and if I ever did decide to stop blogging, forever, then I’d find somewhere that I could archive my Adventures In Weight Loss.

I’m still trying to decide what I want to do in terms of content here at FATGIRLslim. Do I accept the bazillion offers of guest posts that keep showing up in my inbox? Do I continue to babble about attempting to lose weight while fighting my urge to binge eat and eat entire boxes of food in secret so nobody knows how bad it is?

What I’d love to do is to really examine my relationship with food, which is a terrible one. I’d like to know why I binge eat, and why I eat a lot in secret – beyond the “so people don’t see me consuming 15,000 in a sitting”, I mean – and I’d like to start mending that relationship with food.

But, to be honest, I don’t even know where to start. My local health service doesn’t recognise binge eating and food addiction as real things, and the only clinic that deals with eating disorders only helps those suffering from anorexia or bulimia.

So what am I going to do?

I don’t know.

I’ve signed up for Sport Relief again for 2018 – I completed a 1 mile swim and a 3 mile walk in 2016, and was chuffed to raise as much as I did – so I’ve got something to train for.

I’m back at Weight Watchers, although I had to have my cat euthanised in my second or third week and have basically been eating to numb my grief since then (R.I.P. my darling Twiglet), and really need to start tracking again and focusing on what I’m eating.

Other than that…? I’m tempted to go fully digital, and just vlog on the FATGIRLslim YouTube Channel instead of writing. But I’m not sure how well that would go, considering bad my habit is of babbling while I’m vlogging and diverging from the point.

I’ll figure something out. If anyone has any suggestions about what they’d like to see as far as updates go, please feel free to let me know!

As of now: I’m still alive, but I’m slowly creeping my way back to my all-time high weight again. Everything (and I do mean EVERYTHING) hurts. Painkillers barely help. And college is eating my life, but at least it gets me out of the house.

I hope y’all are doing well, and I’m sorry there are such huge gaps between posts. Hopefully I’ll decide what I’m doing soon, and remedy that. 🙂

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