#fitbyforty, 400s, babble, body talk, cravings, mental health, mutant leg, story of my life, weigh-in, weight gain

Weekly Weigh-In: April 22, 2019

A wide, short photo of a caucasian woman holding a set of black-and-white analogue body scales against a teal-coloured gradiented/shadowed background.  Used under license from Adobe Stock Images
© Pictworks / Adobe Stock


31st 10lbs

Okay, let’s start this all over again. It’s been six months since I last posted anything at all, never mind posted my weight or weight loss/gain. To say I lost the plot is putting it mildly: I not only lost the plot but feel like I never had it in the first place.

I’m back up close to my highest-ever weight again (449lbs, February 2007), which is a place I swore I’d never get back to, and yet here I am. So what happened? I finished my HND year at college, but never accounted for the sudden lack of exercise. Kept thinking: okay, I’ll start eating healthier on Monday.

Okay, I’ll start eating healthier on Monday.

Okay, I’ll start eating healthier on Monday.

Ad nauseum.

I Tried, I Really Did Try

I did, in February, start eating healthier on Monday. I took up Atkins, and I managed for a few weeks, to lose some weight. Then my birthday arrived, I went to the cinema to see Captain Marvel, didn’t eat my breakfast before I went out, so went into the restaurant next door and had pancakes, bacon, and syrup for my breakfast. And then some nachos and popcorn in the cinema.

A restaurant portion of lasagne and a slice of chocolate fudge cake ON my birthday (we declined to actually buy a birthday cake, and I stupidly thought that the single slice of cake from the restaurant would suffice. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.) and it was basically all downhill from there.

So I’m now at the point where I’m in even more pain than I’m used to, I can’t even join the gym yet because I don’t think I can walk the 10-minute walk there, and if I did manage that, I wouldn’t be able to walk it home because it’s literally an uphill struggle, and my pulse races just from climbing the stairs in my house (13 of ’em).

I am probably literally eating myself to death. A few years ago, I’d have been fine with that, to be honest, after Zero died. But I’ve finally hit a point where I actually care about what happens to me. I care that I’d in pain all the time. I care that I feel like crap when I eat the wrong types of food. I have my back pain, my migraines, I have bowel issues, I have a mutant leg which is worse than it ever was, and my foot’s so swollen that I can’t get it into my trainers on some days.

So I care. I care that I’m hurting myself, and I care that I can’t even do something as simple as walking around a supermarket without ending up in agony.


FATGIRLslim? Nah. FATGIRLhealthy

I know that the number on the scale isn’t the be-all, end-all of “health”. It’s a good indicator of how far I have to go, but what I need to focus on is how I feel: how much pain I’m in, how my body feels about the foods I’m putting into it, and how my clothes fit me – or don’t.

I’ve said it before, and hopefully I’ll never have to say it again: I do not ever want to end up back at this point in my life again. I need this to be the last time, because I honestly think that the next time, I won’t get to make the choice. The next time, I probably will just give up and eat myself into an early grave.

Honestly? Sometimes I think that’d be the easier option.

I can’t let it be, though. So I’m gonna fight. I’ve still got three years and 11 months until I turn 40. I can still get fit, and healthy, and live the rest of my life healthy and – probably not pain-free, but certainly in less pain than I currently am – and happier.

Let’s do this.