Okay so I’ve discovered (the hard way) that having a “cheat day” is something I am incapable of doing without falling down the slippery slope.  I’ve realised (again, the hard way) that I need a cold turkey approach.  In other words I’m staying completely away from “goodies”, alcohol and processed foods (Quorn being the exception).

I sat down and thought again about how I managed to give up smoking.  I did it cold turkey and have often wished that the same thing was possible for food, but it’s hard because you have to eat to live.  But when I read Tony Posnanski’s blog I realised what I need to do.  Tony decided to only eat healthy food because he realised he was a food addict and no matter what it was he was going to eat a lot of it.  I had a light bulb moment and realised this is what I need to do.  The reason I’ve been slipping all these times is because I’ve been reintroducing the bad stuff on cheat days, getting a taste for it and haven’t been able to stay on the straight and narrow as a result.  For me a strawberry or an apple won’t taste half as nice or sweet when you’ve had a bar of chocolate earlier in the day.

So far, it’s working well for me.  I’m also being terrified into behaving to be honest.  I weighed myself at the beginning of this “attempt” (which I hope is the last one) and realised I was the heaviest I’ve ever been and reached a weight (in stones) that I thought I never would.  I looked back over weigh in records for the past year and realised that this time last year I had actually reached a milestone in the good sense (again in stones) and calculated, to my horror, that I’ve put up 2 stone since this time last year.  All of this is against the backdrop of having had a gall bladder attack and bad back, all due to being overweight of course.

So I’m scared, really scared. And, just as I don’t smoke because I’m afraid I’ll lose my voice again; I won’t eat crap anymore because I’m afraid of dying young or at best spending the next few years ballooning into something I don’t recognise anymore (I think I’m already at that point actually).

Anyway, it’s all good really.  I’m taking control, I’m feeling more in control and not going all crazy and over reacting – I’m just doing it.

Weigh in wise it’s a case of so far so good – I started mid week but in 3 days I’d lost 3.5lbs, which is pretty cool.

This week has been nominated as a fresh start – back to school time is coming up and both other half and I have been slipping a lot lately so we had serious meetings with ourselves and we are very very much on the proverbial wagon.

Part of the plan is to get bloody moving, so I set about going for a walk yesterday morning.  The plan was to try to get a couple of walks in actually.  I decided to wear my converse trainers as I find they help a lot when I’m standing during gigs.  We have a woods near our house and there are certain little markers along the way that sort of help when deciding what distance to go.  As I am a fatty bum bum, the distance I can cover at this point is, as you might well imagine, not very far.  One of the markers is a bench and my idea was to walk to the bench, pause at the bench for a quick drink and then walk back.

That was the plan anyway…..

I was about halfway to the bench when my lower legs started to cramp big time, but you know I’ve given up on stuff too many times so I decided to push through it and keep going – I figured I could stop for a little longer at the bench if I needed to.  The legs were hurting more and more as I approached the bench and when it came into sight I saw, to my horror that there was a man with his little daughter there.  It’s only a small bench and they were playing on it.  I was faced with two problems – first, I couldn’t rest for a minute and second I needed to figure out how to turn around without looking stupid – the woods does run in a loop but the distance is way too long for me at this stage – other half and I got lost one day in an earlier attempt to get healthy and we thought we’d be found dead!

Anyway, mercifully a solution to the second problem came immediately in that there was water flowing the whole way across the path just past the bench so I made it look like I didn’t want to get my feet wet.  The first problem of the pain wasn’t solved so it looked like I was going to have to push through it.  It was agonising to say the least.  I had music on my phone which helped march me forward but the pain was unbelievable.  I did make it though and when I got into the van my lower legs seized up completely – I was so scared and thought it was something serious.  In hindsight, it was probably a good thing that the bench was unavailable to me or I might have seized up there and then, which would have meant real trouble.  I rang Other Half, as I always do in these situations and that calmed me down considerably.  Eventually my legs eased up slightly, just enough for me to drive home.  By the time I got home the stiffness was mostly gone but they did ache a bit for the rest of the day.

Now, my theory was that the cons didn’t give me the right kind of support, because I’ve gone walking in the woods loads of times with no cramps, but today I went again with different footwear and I was cramping again.  It wasn’t as bad today, but I did do a slightly shorter walk because I was afraid of damaging myself.  The only other theory I have is that it’s coming close to the time of the month and I felt like a sack of spuds today. I will keep walking every day though, even if it’s a slightly shorter walk until it stops hurting.  Little by little I’ll build it up.

I’ve been expanding my blogroll lately and as I read other blogs I always think they’re a lot better than mine in that at least people are making progress. My blog is shite cos I’m up and down like a yo-yo and not making any real headway.  I’m actively doing something about this and I will keep going until I get it right.  But, part of me would love to start again and have a blog that starts at the “real start”, like where most people’s start – I haven’t seen any like mine where the person hasn’t really and truly even gotten properly started!

But I’ve decided to not start the blog again, because I will get there – I will make this work, I will lose weight and I will get healthy.  And who knows, maybe some poor sod like me will come along in the future, wondering why he/she keeps failing, just looking for a little bit of hope and they’ll read that I had a rough start too and they might believe they can do it.

I haven’t put myself out there on other blogs, which of course means I don’t get many visitors to this site, which in turn of course means less accountability.  So I’m going to change this too.  I will comment more on other people’s blogs and put myself out there a little more.  So there!

I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to go to the gym for the 1309808056577^th time.  At the risk of stating what is blatantly obvious, I am very very overweight.  Being overweight makes me self-conscious, which makes it harder to go to the gym.

Okay, enough of the “obvious stating”.  It’s much worse than that.  I’m very private.  Extremely private.  Especially when it comes to my weight and related matters.  I know I need the gym to help me lose weight, but I’m having an awful time trying to get over myself.  The thought of sweating and huffing and puffing and revealing my vulnerabilities in front of people in public really freaks me out.

I hate being vulnerable, I don’t expose that part of myself willingly.  Years ago, I used to be very good at pretending I was revealing myself – I even had myself convinced  – I would “open up” to friends, but really, I was leaving quite a few onion layers unpeeled.  I’d been like that my whole life, without realising it.  It was a self-protection thing.  Of course, sooner or later, something had to give because I’d left a horrendous childhood “un-dealt with” and it was only a matter of time before it all fell apart.  So around the time when I turned 30 I had a complete breakdown.  It was around that time that I met other half and it was only through opening up in a safe environment that I managed to work through the crap.

But as scary as that was, it was done behind closed doors with only one other person who I trusted implicitly, who I felt safe being vulnerable with.  I know that bearing one’s soul and sweating it out in the gym are two very different things, but in my mind’s eye, there’s a similarity and it’s all about me exposing that vulnerable bit of me.  It’s also feels like I’m broadcasting to the world I KNOW I HAVE A PROBLEM WITH MY WEIGHT AND I’M TRYING NOT TO BE A FATTY ANYMORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know I need to GET OVER MYSELF and some overweight people just get on with it and go to the gym without giving it a second thought, but hey, I’m me and fucking hell it’s hard being me sometimes.

Other half’s daughter got a car recently.  She’s young and cocky and thinks she’s invincible. I was trying to explain to her that it took a serious car crash to make me cop on to myself and pay attention behind the wheel and that she shouldn’t let that happen to her.  I told her she shouldn’t need to be scared into being a careful driver.

After that conversation I couldn’t help but think of me and weight loss.  It seems as though I need to be scared into action every single time and I have always had a hard time keeping that fear present in my mind.  I feel like smacking myself sometimes, because, as I’ve said before, I do know this stuff on an intellectual level and I know full well I need to lose a lot of weight, so why does my mind allow what I know to be true to slip away into the background?

Now, thankfully (touch wood) this time I seem to be keeping it somewhat together in that respect – ie the fear is still present and is ensuring I keep some level of a grip on reality.  I’m not behaving like a saint, but the fear is very much there in my mind. – Being blunt, I’m really scared of having a heart attack or stroke and that keeps me on my toes.

In other news……….  Over the years of struggling with weight, I’ve often come to the mind blowing, ground breaking, Nobel Prize winning conclusion that the problem has to be tackled with a two pronged approach – healthy eating and exercise.  I reckon I was wrong though – it needs an approach from three angles – healthy eating, exercise and the emotional side.  Another earth shattering discovery – I should be given some kind of award hehe.

It’s funny though isn’t it, there are countless products on the market that will supposedly help you lose weight but really, if you boil it all down, eating less (and more healthily!) and exercising is what works.  It has been proven time and time again that a change in lifestyle will do the job and a permanent change in lifestyle will keep the weight off.  Yet, it all seems so complicated and hard when you’re at the bottom of the hill.

Anyway, to go back to my Revolutionary Three Pronged Approach, I reckon I was on to something in this post when I started writing more about where I’ve come from with food and I feel I should be doing more of that.  There’s no point in trying so hard with the diet and exercise part of things, when I might sabotage things or even unintentionally screw up because of not sorting my head out.

I will not go to a counsellor, because I’ve been there and done that and it’s so bloody hit and miss when it comes to whether the person is any good or if their style even suits you.  I’ll be damned if I’m gonna spill me guts to 15 million strangers just to see if they work for me!!  No, I’m going to do this the way I’ve done it before – writing.  (Didn’t I come to this conclusion before? – I should really start listening to myself!)  So, as a starting point I’m gonna start jotting stuff down about my history with food – it can’t hurt right? …….argh!

After being so bloody good this week I was rather nervous about approaching the scales this morning, but thankfully I wasn’t disappointed as I lost 4.6lbs! – Okay it’s not worthy of fanfare and Biggest Loser style applause as a first week weigh in, but hey, it’s better than a kick in the ass.

Most importantly, it’s enough for me not to feel disheartened.

I’ll never forget my first weigh in (as in the one after the first week) in Weight Watchers a couple of years ago because I actually managed to gain 2lbs.  I never managed to warm to the leader and her tone at my gain didn’t help matters.  It’s not like she made fun of me or anything but it was the “What happened?” that really got to me.  What happened?  I’ll tell you what happened missus – I worked my ass off all week and now I’m disappointed and to rub salt in the wound, you’re asking me what happened?  I’m not very good with feeling humiliated whilst in a crowd so having to sit through the meeting whilst feeling like crap really didn’t help.

Other half was with me and on the way home we ended up having to stop the car so I could blub for about half an hour and let it all out because I didn’t want the kids to see me in that state.

Then, the following week I only lost 2lbs.  I was absolutely devastated and again I don’t know how I made it through the meeting.  The repeat performance of the disapproving “What happened” tone from the leader didn’t help either.  My fear of public humiliation kicked in again and I just froze throughout the meeting, holding back the tears the whole time.

I remember being both envious and annoyed at the women who toddled in every week for their weigh in chatting away to each other, like it was a social event.  I was envious because I felt so humiliated and embarrassed and annoyed because I couldn’t relate to most of them and couldn’t understand why they weren’t taking it seriously enough.  I didn’t see WW as a social event – it was much more serious than that.  I also never understood why most of them didn’t stay for the meeting.  What’s the point in paying a tenner a week just to get weighed?

Anyway, to go back to my original thought, and at the risk of stating the obvious I find the impact of disappointment can be huge when it comes to weight loss, especially during the first week.   You need a little reward for all of your efforts, just to show it was worth it – just to give a little encouragement to kick start the next week. I want to measure myself in the next day or two, plus take a photo (eek) because you never know when you might need a little boost if there’s a bad week on the scale!

It might sound strange but I’m nearly glad that my weight loss wasn’t spectacular (as in a half stone kind of loss) this week, because, on the flip side of disappointment – and bearing in mind what I’ve discovered about me and patterns – I can’t run the risk of getting complacent.  No, 4.6lbs is a respectable start and enough to keep me on my toes and ensure I don’t lose the run of myself.

Well, if there was a record for “Number of Times Fallen off the Wagon”, I reckon I’d be hard to beat.  One of these friggin times I have to get it right.  You’d think I’d be sick of feeling like shit by now – which I am.

The thing is, I’ve figured out that I have a pattern.  The beginning of the pattern (ie the time when I start behaving) is usually precipitated by my health prompting me to cop on – either my gallstones will act up or I’ll be just so bloody overcome with the general shittiness of being fat that only a complete loon would continue to eat crap in that condition.

Once I’ve been scared into submission, I will live like a nun for a week, usually resulting in a decent weight loss.  After that week, amazingly, complacency creeps in.  I will allow myself “one bar” after dinner and will, in fairness, work it into my calorie allowance.  But slowly but surely the standards slip and week by week, slowly but surely, my diet deteriorates and the feel good factor disappears which makes me even less likely to get off my ass.  Before I know it I’m back in CrapLand until the next health scare.

I suppose the one good thing about repetitive falls from grace is that I learn something every time – this particular bit of learning (about the patterns) is crucial I feel and I hope to Jaysus I stick with it this time.  I’m an intelligent person, you’d think I’d have this in the bag but I never cease to amaze myself!

So I’ve been back on the wagon since last weekend.  Absolutely no chocolate type treats are being let into the house – deserts are fruit and fruit only.  I’m keeping carbs to a minimum and doing lots of salads and veg, oh and lots of Quorn too.  And gallons upon gallons of water.  I’m doing 10km on the exercise bike every day, resulting in a VERY sore crotch (ahem) but I’m getting used to it a little bit more every day.  I’m also investigating those gel seat pad thingies to help my poor misfortunate arse.

I’m going to allow myself a cheat day, but it will be measured and planned and in my control, not impulsive and/or a reaction to something emotionally distressing.

I get great motivation from shows like The Biggest Loser (despite reservations about the speed of weight loss and other things), so every day we (other half and I) are watching at least one episode to ensure that healthy living is present in our minds. – I’ve been stockpiling DVDs of TBL and other weight loss shows – I know it sounds mad but what works for me works for me.

So, watch this space folks, you never know, I might actually keep this up!

Well, I had a bit of a wobble off the wagon, but I’m back. This time, I hope, for good. There is one fundamental difference this time. My other half is fully on board and has pledged to make the change with me. This happened (properly, not half assed on either of our parts) before, where we both were fully on board together, when we joined WW first. We’d gotten into a fantastic routine and were doing well but then we decided to quit smoking together and the result was a spectacular crash from the wagon.

A few posts ago I had been thinking about when I gave up smoking. This was my first and only serious attempt to quit and I succeeded first time. Before congratulations are in order, it should be borne in mind that I’d spent years suffering the ill effects of smoking prior to getting my act together and I simply knew I wasn’t capable of giving up until the time I finally took the plunge. In many ways it was the same with weight loss – I am not a serial dieter – the first proper attempt was when I joined WW – prior to that I hadn’t really done anything worth talking about – I guess I should be thankful that I didn’t have to suffer the downside of yo-yo dieting.

Anyway, I got sidetracked. Apart from the fact that I was ready, I think one of the main factors that contributed to my success in kicking my smoking habit was the fact that myself and the other half did it together. Likewise, when we were doing WW together, we flourished. Since then, although we’ve tried to get on the same page together loads of times, between work and life’s ups and downs we hadn’t managed to synchronise until now. Finally, we’re both on the same page at the same time. Our first weekly weigh in was last Sunday and I’d lost half a stone!!

We’ve a long way to go – ie integrating exercise, but we’re getting there. For now, we’re doing our own version of WW’s points system – the points are just a guide to make sure we don’t overeat but we’re being healthy about it. We’re planning to introduce a more rounded system, taking fat, calories, carbs etc into account, once we figure out a system that suits us.

So, I’m hoping that with the both of us on board together, we will keep each other going.

For the first time in a long time….there’s hope.

Well, I don’t know how I managed it, but I lost just under 5.5lbs this week.  I mean I know I had intended this big old fresh start last week but I made a bit of a balls of it due to an emotionally weird week.  I didn’t go totally mental, but didn’t feel 100% in control or fully planned, if that makes sense.  Anyway, I’m going to take the 5.5lbs and I’m going to run away with it and hide in case anyone wants to take it away from me!

I’ve been pondering further on why I’ve been having so many false starts, and how I might combat this somehow.  In some ways I think I need to simplify things, just until I get on my way.  If I know exactly what I’m going to have for breakfast and lunch and have a set few dinners to choose from, only allowing fresh fruit and veg and chewing gum in between, I reckon I can’t go far wrong.  If the choice is taken away from me, I’m wondering if I can bypass my brain.

That’s the plan for now.  I’m still working on it and will probably refine it slightly as time goes on.  At this moment in time, I’m just grateful that I had a substantial loss this week after all the kicks in the ass I’ve been having weight loss wise.

Well I guess a loss of 1.5lbs is better than a kick up the arse, especially considering last week’s (and the week before!) abysmal result.  Since my long post the other day I’ve been quite pensive and have been taking positive steps towards paving the way for a smoother journey from here on in.

One thing I’ve discovered is the wondrous concept of putting blogs into a reader – yeah I’m sure most folks are sniggering that I’ve only just discovered that now but hey, I’m a late starter – I only ever had a Livejournal blog before, but never really did much with it.  Anyway the reader is great because it’s helping to keep me motivated by reading lots of fantastic diet blogs, which I’ll get to in a minute.

A major stumbling block for me has always been my inability to get to sleep at night, especially if I’m worried or if I have either positive or negative stuff on my mind.  For example, I’ve given myself tomorrow (Monday) as my deadline to be completely on the straight and narrow – getting up on time, sticking to the plan I set out for the day etc.  Under normal circumstances, I’d completely botch the whole operation because I’d end up awake half the night worrying that I might not be able to wake up the next morning.  Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Anyway, I decided to get off my bum and try to do something about it.  So I bought Paul McKenna’s “I Can Help You Sleep”.  I’m not one for gimmicks but I have to say, the man speaks a lot of logic.  In my mind it’s not 100 miles off Allen Carr’s stop smoking book in that it doesn’t try to bullshit you and for the most part you can see the reasoning behind the stuff you’re supposed to do or stop doing.  So we’ll see what happens, but I feel optimistic that I might at least improve my sleeping patterns, which bodes well for my energy levels.

Another thing that has been on my mind is the subject of choices and what we do with those choices.  “Escape from Obesity” and “The Anti-Jared” both wrote excellent posts about this subject and, no pun intended, talk about food for thought.  I am very good at making excuses to myself -ah it’ll be alright this once – well, I had a good weight loss last time, so I’ll get away with it – oh but I’m so tired, I can’t work out, I’ll be fucked for the rest of the day….and so on and so on.  But the excuses have to stop – as Moloko would say, the time is NOW – no more excuses.  The excuses have me where I am today – unhealthy, unfit and unhappy because of it.  Either I want this or I don’t, so I have to get real.

Finally, last week I had further motivation from an unusual source.  One of our dogs got knocked down because he’s as thick as bricks and runs after cars.  He damaged the ligaments and tendons in his elbow and can’t put any weight on it.  Here’s the thing – the dog is overweight and it’s my fault.  It’s my fault because I let him away with murder when it comes to food and it’s my fault because I don’t walk him enough.  On so many levels I felt so ashamed at the vets not least because not only was the poor bugger in pain because of his injuries, but to make it worse, he had extra trouble keeping himself up on the remaining three legs because of his weight.  So, he’s on a diet.  Sometimes I wish we could trade places and that I could have someone come along and remove the choices from me and whip me into shape until I lose all the weight!  Anyway, the dog is now joining the fat fighters club and is on a controlled diet.  And, when he’s back on his feet and fully recovered from his injuries we will walk together every day until we are both fighting fit.

I’ve been avoiding this update, because I’ve failed again.  I don’t exactly have volumes of archives on this blog, but the few entries that are here are like a frickin rollercoaster!  Mind you, the word rollercoaster makes it sound exciting – it’s more like a lot of boring old ups and downs like a see saw.  I’m actually embarrassed at this point, because I keep saying, “This is it! – This time will be different! I’ve copped myself on – I know the answer now!”  But, somehow I always manage to fall off the wagon.  If I were a stranger reading this blog I’d want to smack some sense into me!

I’ve fallen off quite spectacularly this time, not in the sense that I woke up one morning surrounded by a mountain of chocolate wrappers like the nun on Fr. Ted that was sent to get the lads through lent, but more because I’m back at square one – the weight I started 2009 at.  I haven’t binged, I haven’t eaten completely unhealthily, but I have made some bad choices, my portion sizes have been too big and have been unprepared.  It’s scary how quickly the weight piles back on – if only it came off that quickly!

I’ve been reading the books – the success stories – and have scientifically scoured the pages for the common denominator – for that certain something that each story might have in common with the others, especially on the official “Day One”, when these folks who won the battle of the bulge finally well and truly got on their way.  But you know what, it’s not there.  There are no moments where the clouds part and the sunrays shine down showing the way.  Nope, it seems that one day – sometimes after numerous wagon falls, sometimes not – one day, it apparently just happens and there’s no way of telling why.

It’s not like I’m not terrified of the consequences of remaining the weight I am, it’s not like I’m not fed up with feeling so unhealthy, it’s not like I don’t have a brain in my head – so why the fuck is it taking so long for me to achieve consistency?  I used to think that giving up smoking would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do in terms of addictions, but it was a walk in the park compared to losing weight.  The difference is, you don’t need to have a cigarette every day in order to live.

I used the word addiction above, but it doesn’t exactly feel right.  I have a very unhealthy relationship with food, but I don’t feel I’m addicted to it.  I definitely have a problem but not that kind of problem.  I’m an emotional eater yes, I make bad choices yes, but I don’t feel an addiction.  It’s a bit like the way I used to be about alcohol – I don’t think I could ever have been considered to be an alcoholic but I did drink too much and I paid the price in terms of my health.  I’m much more healthy about it now – I only rarely drink these days and when I do, for the most part, I behave.  In some ways I think food replaced alcohol for me.  It’s not like I was ever skinny, but my weight has seriously rocketed since I slowed down on the alcohol.

Hmm….this is better than therapy – I never put that connection together before!  I swapped alcohol with food.  Well I’ll be darned.  One thing I know for sure is that I used alcohol partly to escape reality and numb the feelings I’d rather not feel.  Food doesn’t make me drunk, it’s much more subtle than that, but it does numb to a certain extent.  There are even control freak elements to my eating – the “I’m not going to starve” sort of mentality.  I have a survival instinct that can sometimes border on the unhealthy (though I try to keep myself on a tight leash!) and I think the food is a part of that.  I spend a lot of time trying to tell myself that the world is not going to end if I have a smaller portion and that there hasn’t been a famine in Ireland since the 1800’s – that I can always get more if I’m genuinely hungry.

I’m definitely an emotional eater and the food/alcohol connection I’ve just made would imply that I have major emotional issues to sort out, if I’m medicating with food.  However, a few years ago I did a lot of hard work to overcome some pretty serious shit and managed to come out the other end of a lengthy period of depression as well as a breakdown.  I went to hell and back to confront those feelings – and while I know none of us are ever 100% sorted and there’ll always be shit to contend with – I thought, for the most part, I was done.  It scares me to think I might have something major to resolve – I just couldn’t handle whipping off a big plaster, exposing a huge wound – it wasn’t any fun being depressed and I have no desire to go back there.

However, I have no desire to remain a fatty bum bum either, so I had better try at least.  Thinking about things that are unresolved, one thing I never dealt with fully is my history with food, so I guess I should write a little about that.

If we’re getting into the history of me and food, one of the more prominent roles in the tale would go to my mother, who used to over feed me when I was little.  I realised this a long time ago, even as a kid I knew on some level something wasn’t right.  For example, I remember a lady coming to our house at dinner time one day and being really shocked at the portion sizes.  She wasn’t wrong either – there were enough chips on the individual plates to feed the whole family.

Food was the only way my mother could show love – or at least her version of love.  I grew up with a completely screwed up idea of what a portion size was and I had a huge appetite as a result of the over feeding.  As a result I had a fair bit of extra weight, though mercifully, having grown up in the countryside, I used to ride my bike a lot as a method of transport so I got a lot of accidental exercise, which probably helped to keep me from completely ballooning.  As much as I bitch about Ireland in the 70’s, I suppose I should be thankful in one sense that I grew up during that time, because I’m convinced I’d probably have ended up in the morbidly obese category if I was growing up now, ie in the Playstation era.  When I was small, cartoons were a big event – now there are whole channels devoted to them – but when I was a child we had a grand total of 2 channels and one telly so there was no choice but to make your own fun.

When I was in my early teens I had a bout of meningitis, which, in terms of weight, ended up being a blessing in disguise because I lost loads while I was sick.  It didn’t make me skinny, but it was a marked improvement.  Back then, while I wasn’t happy about what I weighed, I was almost completely oblivious at the same time – I was in a strange sort of self-protecting state of denial, developed after waking up from many years of allowing myself to be treated like a second-class citizen.  I had a very unhappy childhood and spent the majority of the time up until my early teens living as a subservient walkover – something that would shock most people who know me now – but the house I grew up in and the school I went to played a huge part in making me into that person.  Once I hit secondary school it was like a bolt of lightning hit me and I turned into a different person overnight.  Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that they didn’t beat people for not understanding maths in secondary school.

Another “gift” I have to thank my mother for is the memory loss from my childhood – I found out a few years ago that she had drugged me with mind-altering medications.  I had huge gaps in my memory but always put it down to blocking out my awful childhood.  When I found out about the drugs it all made sense – the memory loss, the hazy stuff.

Anyway, despite the memory loss, I do have a certain amount of “fat memories”, where I was called fatso and other imaginative names – looking back now I wasn’t actually all that fat – I had a bit to lose, but not all that bad – but the comments made me feel huge.  There was one incident that still hurts a bit all these years later.  I was only about 8 or 9 at the time.  I can’t remember the exact details of how it got started but I remember these two girls trying to get me to put my chin to my chest.  I was a bit totally gullible at that age so I obliged.  They started praising me saying well done, I did it again and then eventually they started teasing in a really snide and mocking way about my double chin.  I was too blinded with self consciousness to realise that one of those girls had a fair few pounds to lose herself.  I felt like such a fucking gobshite for falling into their trap and the more they sneered the shittier I felt.  And isn’t it a terrible thing that over 28 years later that incident can still bring about a twinge of hurt.

Other prominent “fat memories” are of my mother’s lack of tact when it came to my size.  Again, I must point out that I know now looking back that I wasn’t actually that big, but with the way she behaved it was a small wonder that I felt like a Ten Ton Tessie.  Anyway, I remember being dragged around clothes shops and every single time, whether I was 5, 10 or 15 years old, she would be inappropriate and would mortify me by ROARING the size at the top of her voice or making comments about how hard it is to get clothes to fit me.  She never made the connection (still hasn’t) that her incessant feeding of me might have something to do with it.  This is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to my mother’s capabilities – a non weight related example is how she decided when I was in primary school (I was around 9 or 10 ish) to dress me in the uniform of another local school.  This was bad in itself, but it was made a lot worse by the fact that our school didn’t even have a uniform.  I can’t remember how long I was made wear the uniform but needless to say my classmates had a field day with me – it’s not like they didn’t hate me already but this well and truly put the nail in the coffin.  It’s a small wonder I’ve grown up to become a complete control freak.

Anyway I digress……  It’s not like I sat down and decided, but by the time I’d reached my teens and lost a bit of weight thanks to meningitis, I was in a sort of denial, but this was just a thin coating for severe self-loathing.  Though I found my voice and stopped being a walkover as a teenager, this was replaced with even more misery because of my controlling mother and it culminated in all sorts, including a suicide attempt.  Apart from feeling huge deep down and generally hating myself, I don’t remember weight playing an obvious role in my teenage years.  In my 20’s in college I was too busy drinking to allow any kind of real feelings to surface – except for extreme drunken stupor nights when I’d over do it and lose the plot completely – but those times were rare, I wasn’t too keen on removing the bandaid.  But even in those drunken stupor moments, I’d never talk about the weight – never ever – it was one thing that would never be spoken about – it was too horrific to ever think about, let alone speak about.  There was the odd time when I’d get in there before anyone else got a chance – the “oh the size of my arse in this” sort of stuff, just in case anyone tried to say anything – in reality I wouldn’t have actually been looking at my arse at all – I’d have just recited the line as a protection mechanism.

After secondary school, I unwittingly walked into a very controlling friendship that lasted all through college and for many years afterwards and my friend’s other half eventually joined the controlling element.  I eventually saw sense and walked away.  This was a defining moment for me – it marked the first REAL step towards freedom and being my own person – something I thought I’d been doing for years.  I remember my first meal in my new flat (I used to live with the aforementioned friend and friend’s partner) after I’d moved out.  I was new to the area so the golden arches of McDonalds seemed sensible to opt for – yes it was pretend food but it was familiar pretend food.  I can’t remember what I ordered but I know I ordered more than an average meal.  I ordered an extra portion of something or other and there was something significant about that.  Though I didn’t think this thought “out loud” or anything like it, it was my way of saying I was independent and free – I could eat what I wanted when I wanted.  I was still drinking heavily in those days, so I mostly drank instead of totally over eating, but I was eating mostly fast food, which contributed to a gradual piling on of the pounds.

I mention this because I think I carried this “I can eat what I want when I want” thing through in later years and I might have overdone it just a smidge.  It’s a sort of inverted, screwed up kind of control freak feature that has done me absolutely no good whatsoever.

I’m not sure where all this is going and I wasn’t expecting to write this long of an entry, but somehow I ended up “in the zone” and as long as I’m there I’ll keep writing.  Writing played a huge part in sorting out my problems before, which is one of the reasons I started this blog, so if I’m spewing stuff out, I’m not going to stop myself!

Anyway, thinking about it, I didn’t really start piling on the weight big time until the last 6 years.  About 6 years ago I had a breakdown, which had been preceded by a lengthy bout of depression.  I was in such bad shape that all I could do was stop everything and just concentrate on getting well again.  All of this actually ties in with what I was saying above, about replacing alcohol with food, now that I think about it.  I stopped going out with my friends, stopped going to the pub, and just stayed in all the time.  I was never much of a lone drinker, but I was well able to scoff food by myself.  Anyway, when I had the breakdown, everything else took a back seat and I confronted 30 years worth of pain.  My weight and any form of healthy living were among the back seat passengers during my time of sorting myself out.  Eating played a big part however, in that this was the one period in time when I binged.  All sorts of crisps and sweets and buns and other stuff were brought into the house and I wouldn’t be happy till they were gone.  -Not that I was actually happy after they were gone – they were just a distraction.

I gradually emerged from this state a few years ago and actually got off my arse and went to Weight Watchers.  However I also got the bright idea not long after joining WW that I was going to stop smoking.  This was fantastic but I had not really planned it well in that it was too difficult to lose weight and give up the smokes all at once.  Besides, WW was pissing me off at that stage and I wanted to leave, with full intentions of keeping it up on my own.  It kills me to think that I’d have well and truly reached my goal by now if I’d stuck with it.

I wasn’t expecting to have written a brief(ish) history of how I came to be the size I am but there you have it.  However I do think it’s important to figure out how you’ve gotten to a particular spot in order to work out how to get off it, so I’m going to go with the flow.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – I strongly feel that the weight battle is fought and won in the head and heart.  If I’m trying to figure out why I’ve been failing, maybe I need to look at how little I’ve been exploring the emotions surrounding my weight.  I am nervous of exposing a huge emotional wound, but I’ll just have to be careful.  I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do to be healthy and happy – simple as that.

If anyone has made it to the end of this, fair play to you.  I’m sorry if this is too long but, no offence, this blog is primarily for me and you never know, there might be another soul out there who is as neurotic as me to whom all of the above will make perfect sense!