Showing posts with label weight watchers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight watchers. Show all posts

Tuesday, 28 March 2017

F.C.L (Fat Club Lie)

I read a Facebook post today which really made me laugh about the rules of “Fat Club”, I’ve shared it on my Facebook page if you want to check it out. The reason it made me laugh so much is because it’s all TRUE!

  Fat Club is unlike any other club you’ll ever join, because it’s a place where you can do the following;



I think I admire my Weight Watchers more than anyone else in the world, because every week she smiles and nods and manages to avoid shouting “what a crock of s**t” at the top of her voice.
   
Week after week (and I include myself in this) people who are good, honest and decent people, the type of people who would help an old lady across the road, who bought a red nose for Comic Relief and instill the virtues of telling the truth to their children, stand before another human being and lie.
 
Picture the scene, it's a draughty church hall, there's a line of people wearing their lightest close and flip flops despite the weather and they have a look of slight fear and dread on their faces. The conversations in the room  go something like this;

Fat Club Guru; “have you had a good week?”
You; “yes, I’ve stuck to the plan all week”
Fat Club Guru: “you’ve put 3 pounds on”
You: (*looking sad and shocked and gutted*) “WHAATTTTTT???? I don’t know how that happened, I genuinely don’t know how I’ve managed to put 3 pounds on. I’m gutted”

If you’re a real pro at the “FCL” (Fat Club Lie) you manage to shake your head as you put your shoes, jumper, belt, earrings, bracelet back on… all the things you took off in the vague hope that when you got on the scales your week of lies wouldn’t show up! You then walk off looking sad, disappointed and a little dejected.
 
  The first time you do it, it feels strange, slightly odd, there’s adrenaline coursing through your veins! Like the first time you drink alcohol or smoke a cigarette when you’re a teenager! There’s a sense of danger, the thrill you are obviously flouting the rules.

  The lie ..... it’s only a little one, like the one you tell your mum,

Mum; “Have you been smoking?”
You: “No, there were some older kids at the party they were smoking”

You know, she knows your lying, you know you’re lying, but will she say? Will you crumble and tell the truth? Will she challenge you? Will some kind of thunderbolt actually strike you down?

Not actual scene from my teenage years, I was never hit by a thunderbolt.


  It doesn’t….no one says a thing…. You’re home dry and then (SPOILER ALERT) just like Kevin Spacey at the end of “The Usual Suspects”, the moment you leave Fat Club and your out of view of the Leader, your swagger returns, your hunched sad shoulders straighten, the smile dances around your lips and you get in the car and turn Bruno mars up full blast (*Bruno Mars is optional in this scenario)

You’ve done it!

Now all you have to do is drive to a chip shop just far enough from class that none of your fellow conspirators might see you, but close enough to home that your chips don't end up cold!


NOTE FROM KATIE– I’m writing this for a friend, I’ve never resorted to such treachery!

Wednesday, 22 June 2016

When More Nos Equal More Yeses

I’m just going to say it, three weeks after really getting to grips with “operation love my Heart” and my little plaque proudly displays, these little numbers.



I’m so proud of myself! Proud because I’ve stuck to what I promised myself I would!

  Now I’ve always been the sort of person, who’s pretty much up for anything, which is probably how I found myself camping in the jungle with a group of soldiers and abseiling down the side of Nottingham Forest Football club.

  Somehow my fun "yeses" got turned into not so fun "yeses", and I found the time I had for me getting less and less and the things I wanted or sometimes needed to do getting put on the backburner. I don’t like ironing any more than the next person, but sometimes you’ve got to get it done!

  So two weeks ago when my sister Lucy signed up to join my gym, I said “yes” to giving her my password to my online booking and agreed to try various classes, on the proviso that if I REALLY hated something or suffered injury I didn’t have to go again!

  Every bit of me wanted to say “no”, but a promise is a promise and what is it they say ....




  We started off with aqua Zumba, which in fairness, won me round immediately…. Dancing in the water? What’s not to love? Alright it was hardly the famous lake scene from “Dirty Dancing”, but there was a classic Aha track on the playlist for good measure and afterwards we gossiped in the hot tub.



  Then there was the yoga…. This class started and ended with 10 minutes laying on the floor…. This baby sells itself! I didn’t care that I’d accidentally positioned myself next to Bendy McBendyface the bendiest woman in all of bendyland.

Next up was body combat. This is basically pretending to punch and kick things in time to music. Great for stress levels and I slept like a baby afterwards!

  Finally, today it was Just Jhoom, which is my favourite gym class! It’s basically a Bollywood version of Zumba.

  To allow me to fit all of this in, I’ve said “no” to some stuff I don’t want to do!

  It’s not just been the exercise, I’ve said “no” to biscuits in meetings, I said “no” when someone offered me a cake to take home and I’ve politely declined taking on a work project that ultimately would be of no benefit to my business.

  So if I take all my nos and add them to my yeses, do you know what I got? 3 ½ pounds off! That’s what I got!

  Tomorrow I’ve said yes to going spinning and unless the teacher looks like Matt Goss and is naked, this might get added to my “no’s” for next week

Wednesday, 18 November 2015

It Was the Weekends That Got Us Into Trouble...

I’ve been having a sort out this week and I found this sign hiding in a draw. Maybe I'd put it there to try and hide the guilt it made me feel!




It struck me that where my Slinky mission is concerned, this has very much been the case. Monday to Friday I behave impeccably, planning my meals, trying to exercise as much as I can and accounting for everything I eat. Monday to Friday, I am the perfect Weight Watcher.

Then Saturday arrives, screeching in like Lewis Hamilton for a pit stop, when he knows Nico Rosberg could take the lead and blow his chances of winning!

Only my Lewis brings wine and takeaway! 


  One quick drink in the pub, whilst out walking the dog turns into a bottle (for us, not him) And Saturday night tele for some reason has become a special occasion that can only be celebrated by drinking more wine and ordering pizza. The pizza is normally ordered after we’ve had dinner and are awoken by a loud banging on the door, where we discover Pete (everyone’s favourite pizza delivery man) stood at the door with a large seafood and a portion of cheesy chips!

  Well not this time! This time, I decided that if I were going to give myself the best chance of being fabulously Slinky by the time I’m 40, next July, then I needed to bid Pete (everyone’s favourite pizza delivery man) farewell and enjoy my weekends without ENJOYING my weekends too much! Which in fairness, now my weigh day is a Sunday, I don't have the option of trying to rectify my wrongs the early part of the week!

  So I took charge! Friday night, Lucy and I went out for a meal and wine! However, we’d checked out the menu beforehand and knew what we were having. It was on my tracker before I even stepped into the restaurant. There was also wine, but again all within my points and there was lemonade!

  Saturday, involved a long dog walk with Cyril and Saturday night’s dinner was planned and prepared before the wine was open and again everything was pointed.




  On Sunday morning something weird happened, I got up early and went to zumba and then took Cyril for a walk! By the time lunchtime had arrived, I’d done over 12,000 steps and earned 10 bonus points! So a wander around town to see the Christmas lights being switched on, meant that I could indulge in this little beauty.





Only if you're from Mansfield, will you understand the true joy of cockles, mushy peas and mint sauce from the market place. (Don't judge it, until you've tried it!)

  So when I stepped on the scales and it showed that I’d lost 4 pounds, I was so proud of myself. I was proud for lots of reasons. I’d been in control of the weekend, it hadn't controlled me and I’d had a really good time, done all the things I enjoyed and still managed to lose weight!


  I know it’s just the first weekend and I’m sure at some point, there’ll be a late night knock from Pete (everyone's favourite pizza delivery man) with a large seafood, and a portion of cheesy chips, but not right now!