Showing posts with label dieting & fashion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dieting & fashion. Show all posts

Monday, 8 April 2019

Eat your profiteroles with confidence....


Away with friends last weekend, we visited the excellent Viva restaurant in Matlock, at which the food was drool-makingly glorious.  We all feasted well throughout our time away, casting off various dietary restraints (look, I only claim to be ninety-five per cent vegan).  

Shelley was anxious to justify her demolishing of Viva's fine profiteroles, two nights running ~ yes, they were covered in chocolate sauce, and came with a side helping of fresh cream, but were made from the lightest of light choux pastry.

Indeed, as she explained to Cathy, underneath all that chocolate sauce ....


'It's basically just air'


A triumphy of confectionery, indeed!




At the risk of doing that Facebook thing, I must just show you some of the delights we ate....the 'vegetariano' pasta (fettucini) was amayyyzing!

Cathy with her salmon risotto, 
Shelley with her pizza with everything, and an egg 😃



Sunday, 3 January 2016

A heartfelt plea....


....to all friends and relatives who buy us boxes of chocolates for Christmas.


*feeble whimper* Please don't!


You can buy us boxes of posh biscuits, because I am not really a biscuit person ~ n.b., this excludes M&S All Butter Viennese Selection, which are not so much biscuits as little pieces of heaven in a mouthful ~ you know when you see that phrase 'all butter' that you're in trouble, don't you? 


There are still SOME LEFT in the biscuit tin.  I swear that having to resist them is sending my blood pressure over the top, and I've got one of those 'well woman' (stupid name) health checks next week, at which some kindly nurse practitioner lady will inform me that I need to lose weight, my BP is teetering, I shouldn't still be smoking and I really need to think about coming off these pain killers.  I will then say "I'm sure ten fags a week can't do much harm, if I come off the painkillers I won't be able to walk, and anyway, I've got better skin for my age than you, so there".   (Reminds me of the time 20 years ago when a doctor told my boyfriend that he was overweight, and he said "well, you've got a big nose".)


Actually, I'm going to refuse to be weighed.  They can't make me.  Surely they can just look at me and make an educated guess?  Which brings me back to the point of this post - THE CHOCOLATES.

This year we received a big two layer box of M&S Belgian chocolates, a family sized tub (why aren't they tins anymore?) of Heroes, and two enormous boxes of Thorntons.  The 'Fairground Favourites' are the best.  OMG, as they say.  There's this one in a yellow and green wrapper, it's an apple cream, oh my goodness....


On Christmas Day I told myself "you can eat as many of them as you like, today, but only today".  Of course, this instruction soon slithered gluttonously downwards into you can eat as many as you can.  I had a tummy ache when I went to bed, and I had merely scratched the surface.  A couple of days later a friend emailed me to say that she was stuffing all the Christmas cake so that it would be gone and she wouldn't have to eat it anymore, or words to that effect.  I so understand this.  This morning, instead of the muesli I would normally eat, I ate all the remaining fudges and caramels (the only ones I can't resist) out of the Heroes, so they'd be GONE.  So I won't have to think about or try to resist them ANYMORE.  They probably contained as many calories as the muesli, and I'll be hungry again by ten o'clock.

But the Thorntons problem remains.... I've tried putting little dishes of them on my husband's bedside shelf so that he will eat them all, but, being a man, he just has one or two per evening.  Last year, I found some Christmas chocolates left in his place-into-which-I-cannot-go, in September.  

So this is my heartfelt plea: I'm honestly not being ungrateful, but please, please, next year, if you must give us chocolates, put a gift tag on them saying that they are just for my husband (he is very possessive of his belongings; I will not mention his star sign), or, better still, give us some of these....


...so that I can go to one of these (and I am so bloody old this year that I can almost remember when it was like this!)


...and buy the bubble bath that is absent from all toiletries gift sets these days ~ as moaned about HERE!

In the meantime, I shall just have to rely on willpower.  
That will work, won't it?  Don't all jeer at once....  I WILL drop a dress size by spring, I will, I will.....

Happy New Year!

 

Friday, 7 August 2015

The other side of sizeism....

I was just browsing Facebook, and came across this article I wrote in 2011, before I had a blog, after noticing the sizeism trend on that site ~ by which I mean so-called 'curvy' women being extremely rude about slim ones, and, more worrying, relating their comments to what men prefer.  

This is the picture mentioned at the beginning of the article - I just looked for it on google images


The link is HERE if you would like to read it; I've just made it public so that you can read it if you're not a Facebook friend (my profile is set to private).  Please let me know if you can't access it, it should be okay.  Thanks!

ps, I've just found the Marilyn Monroe - thin girl one, too, though looking at it now I would imagine she is obsessive about working out rather than anorexic.  Oh, and incidentally ~ a Twitter friend told me that she went to an exhibition of Marilyn's clothes once, and they were tiny.  She was only ever a size 16 occasionally; I read once that all her costumes had to be made in sizes 10-16 because her eating was so erratic.  Let us not forget that a size 10 in the 1950s would probably be a size 6 or 8 now.



Wednesday, 29 January 2014

It's all over....


..... yes, the woman I once was has checked out, left the building and may never be seen again.  


Today I did it.  I tried not to, and my hand hovered over them for many moments before I took them off the rack and put them into my trolley.  But I did it.  I succumbed.

I bought some BIG KNICKERS.

Alas, the days of the lacy mini brief, the high leg, and the 'no VPL' thongs are now history, because I have become the woman who looks at the selection of underwear in the shop, and chooses the full brief.



.....and most of us don't look anything like this airbrushed picture of a model in them, do we?

I've laughed through the fact that I haven't bought high heeled shoes for eight years, that my daily footwear of choice is hugh white furry boot slippers, and that I live in baggy patterned trousers and t-shirts, like a refugee from the Glastonbury of 20 years ago.  Yet still I was hanging on to the last smidgens of making an effort.

Until the BIG KNICKERS.

(I have a feeling they're going to be one of the best finds of my life, like the furry boot slippers.  Ssh!  It's just between you and me, okay?)





Wednesday, 8 January 2014

Welcome to ICAA - Ice Cream Addicts Anonymous!!!





I've had it for breakfast, I've craved it in the middle of the afternoon, I've stood in the supermarket and thought, just don't buy it.  If it's not in the house, I can't eat it.  I'm okay if I don't take that first scoop. But I know beating this monkey on my back takes just one day at a time - and I am proud to announce that yesterday I DIDN'T HAVE ANY ICE CREAM!



I can now admit it at last - Hi, I'm Terry, and I'm an ice cream addict! 



Just because Bradley Cooper does it, it's not okay!  Thank goodness for ICAA ~ if you're an addict too, or think you might be, just take a look at the twelve step recovery plan, borrowed from Alcoholics Anoymous but made relevant to ice cream fiends everywhere.....



ICAA - The Twelve Steps

(We admitted we were powerless over alcohol - that our lives had become unmanageable

We admitted we were powerless over ice cream - that our lives had become unmanageable when faced with a tub of Carte D'or salted caramel.





(We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity)

We came to believe that a Power greater than our fridge freezer could restore us to a size 12.



(We made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him) 

We made a decision to turn our sweet tooth and helpless desire for Eton Mess at 3 in the morning over to the care of our loved ones, who agreed to padlock the freezer during night time hours.


(We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves) 

We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of how much we'd spent on Haagen Dazs in the last twelve months.


(We admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs) 


We admitted to our best pal, to ourselves and to another human being (or the cat) the exact nature of our gluttony.


(We were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character) 

We were entirely ready to have our loved ones remove all half eaten tubs of Rum and Raisin.


(We humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings)

We humbly asked them to remove the Weightwatchers Toffee Caramel Sundaes, too.


(We made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.)


We made a list of all persons whose share of Raspberry Ripple we had eaten, and became willing to make amends to them all.


(We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others)

We made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would encourage them to be total ice cream monsters, too.


(We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it)

We continued to take personal inventory and when we were caught buying a White Chocolate Magnum, promptly admitted it.




(We sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as we understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out)

We sought through prayer and willpower to improve our conscious contact with the fruit section in the supermarket as we understood it, praying only for knowledge of its nutritional value for us and the power to make tempting fruit salads.


(Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics and to practice these principles in all our affairs)

Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps (cross fingers), we tried to carry this message to other Cornetto worshippers and to practice these principles at night time when we're having a film binge.





Do what I did - if you think it's becoming a problem, beyond your control, seek help with ICAA - or, a year from now, this could be you!!




~~~


Good luck - don't end up like Britney...


or Ozzy....



Thursday, 12 September 2013

You are what you.... wear!


This morning I was going out shopping, dressed in summery patterned trousers, suede ankle boots, and an oversized, hooded (and rather scruffy) sweatshirt belonging to my husband.  He said to me, "You look as though you're on the way home from Glastonbury".  It occurred to me that perhaps, mentally, I am always on the way home from Glastonbury - the Glastonbury of 20 years ago, anyway (older person getting sniffy about how such events aren't what they used to be!).  


On the way home from Glastonbury, 1993!

Anyway, I was thinking, on the way to Morrissons, not only about how we dress to express our personalities in a conscious way, but also how we tend towards different styles, as a subconscious thing.  A few years back I worked for a woman who was younger than me but much more 'straight' (please note: I am not talking about sexual orientation here!! - I mean that her idea of a fun night out was probably a Celine Dion concert) and I remember her asking me if I would ever get my hair cut.  

"Why don't you have it cut into a nice bob?" asked she, to which I replied, "Because I'm not a 'nice bob' sort of person."  



Not a 'nice bob' sort of person ~ 1990

Which kinda summed it up, really.  I always found office clothes difficult, which is because I am not one of nature's admin workers.  Couldn't do that neat skirt, tights and shoes bit.  It was easiest when I was just given a uniform, like for the Nationwide Building Society - I love jobs with uniforms, you don't have to think about what to wear each morning!  I used to find that my work clothes were too 'square' (lovely old-fashioned phrase!) for my normal wear.  I felt almost restricted by them, in the same way as I did the daft office rules.  I think the preferences of your younger days stay with you, too.  I wouldn't wear it these days because I think it would make me look like Bet Lynch, but I always find myself edging towards the leopard print - I try to keep it just for things like make-up bags now, though!  Though my husband is not in the first flush of youth by any means, I am instructed, when buying clothes for him, to ask myself this question before I make a purchase: Would Liam Gallagher wear it?  If the answer is "you gotta be kidding", I must leave it in the shop.

At the height of my rock chickery, 1990

When I was at the height of my rock chickery I always wore short skirts, suede boots, denim, leopard print, huge belts, etc; but I didn't think I frequently go to The Town & Country Club to see Thunder, thus I must dress like a rock groupie - I just did.  I don't anymore; I've moved gradually into the slightly boho-chic look, though not always with a great deal of chic, it has to be said. It wasn't a conscious decision but, of late, my eye tends to be caught by patterned trousers, floaty tops, odd jacket-ish-shrug-ish-waistcoat-ish garments, and the odd scarf!  I try to resist the scarf thing a bit, though - have you noticed how writers always wear them, artfully draped?!  I don't want to look like a middle-aged writer, I really don't.  I draw the line at witty earrings, too.  

Me and my pal Lesley, 2012.  
We may be in the autumn of our lives but we spit on colour co-ordinating separates!!

My sister, who is much more conservative in outlook than me, usually dresses like a smart city office worker.  Okay, she can do 'bag lady' as well as I can, when at home, and can still be seen in an Aerosmith t-shirt if you catch her early enough on a weekend morning, but her well cut dresses and classic tops express how she is, I suppose!  How anyone can be bothered to wear posh dresses when they don't have to is beyond me, but we're all different!  She wore lycra mini skirts and and over the knee boots twenty-odd years ago, too (Julia, remember the black stetson?) but we've just moved in different ways.  


Jools in one of her many smart frocks!

Often, though, people use the way they look as their identity, don't they?  The uniform of the punk, or the biker - or, one that always makes me laugh, the new age traveller types who want to be so 'individual' but actually wear as much of a uniform as the conservative city gent - the dreadlocks, the facial piercing, the tie-dyed trousers, the ex-army jacket.  



As instantly recognisable as the stockbroker in his designer suit...!  People who really are individual don't need a wacky hairstyle to prove it (that's a quote from a character in one of my books!).

For the lacking in confidence, assuming a certain mode of dress can given you an 'in' into a certain club, too - think geeky oddball blokes wearing heavy metal band t-shirts, for instance!! Um.......


Wayne and Garth... or is it???!!

Last of all, I give you the truly insecure ~ the fashion victim who spends £800 on a handbag because it's 'the thing to have'... because that handbag is not a handbag at all.  It's a placard saying "I am not only at the cutting edge of what is hot, I also have enough disposable income to buy it.  Thus, I am better than you".    They don't realise that on the back of the placard it says "I am desperate for approval and admiration."


Not quite sure where else I am going with any of this, huge subject that could be a much longer article - I'd love to hear about your own clothing preferences and any general opinions on this!







Wednesday, 14 August 2013

Why Can't I Eat Cake For Breakfast?


Yesterday I was idly and mildly discussing dieting (or lack of it) with a friend of mine. She agreed with me that I was hardly likely to lose weight if I ate cake for breakfast, as I did yesterday.  But then I thought about it.  Why not?


The body doesn't know it's getting two Fabulous Bakin' Boys Strawberries and Cream Mini Cupcakes, does it?  It just knows it's getting carbohydrates and sugar.  If I'd given it two slices of toast and jam ('acceptable' breakfast, though admittedly not if you want to lose weight), it would be no more happy.



It's a bit like kedgeree.  That's normal for breakfast.  But if you said you were having egg curry and rice as your first meal of the day, people would think you were weird.  

I used to know a chap who, because of a brain injury, had no sense of taste.  However, he could detect sweetness, so sweet stuff was what he liked.  Several times, in restaurants, he would order a pudding for all three courses.  Occasionally the waiting staff were rude enough to remark on it.  He had crap teeth, by the way.


Right, must be off and get some lunch.  Ham salad roll and a Weightwatcher's desert.  Or a custard slice.  What the hell, eh?

(ps, the icing on the FBB cupcakes tastes just like those Pink Panther bars you could get when I were a lass.  Champion!)

Monday, 7 January 2013

OH MY GOD I'M SUCH A FAT PIG!!


..... yes, it's that time of year!


Last night I looked in the mirror and was appalled by what I saw.  However skillful your make-up, nothing can disguise those chubby cheeks...  and don't get me started on the stomach that seems to the THERE, in my way, whatever I'm doing....

I decided, this morning, that a drastic kick-start was necessary.  Last year, a friend of mine went from being fairly hefty to looking pretty good, by doing one of those diets where you pay someone shedloads of money to send you a load of dried STUFF, then just eat that instead of real food.  Sounds a bit crazy, yes, but it worked, she looks great, and she's kept it off.  

I knew that she'd been on these special 'juice cleanse' things, too, obtained from the same company.  I don't usually go in for that sort of thing, but, as I said, emergency measures are called for, particularly as in two weeks' time I have to meet up with two slim and glamorous friends who I haven't seen for a while!

Aforementioned friend gave me the link to the website for this 'juice cleanse' thingy.  I looked at it.  The cost was £200 for a 5 day course.

Okay, you've picked yourself up off the floor, right?  But I expect you thought the same as I did.  Two hundred quid for five days' worth of fruit juice??? What sort of profit margin do they make on that, one wonders??  I'm in the wrong job!  

So, that one's out of the window.  I shall now go to Morrissons, and buy lots of fruit to make my own.  

On the subject of having to meet my slim and glamorous friends, though, something else occurred to me.  Men don't worry about this sort of thing, do they?  Why can't women be more like men?  

Consider these two scenarios.

Scenario I

Clare, Lucy and Emma meet up for the first time in 6 months.  Clare has put on a lot of weight.

Clare: God, I was dreading meeting up with you - I've really piled the weight on since giving up my job.  Well, you can see I have - okay, I've been sitting on the sofa with the ice cream too...  I feel horrible!

Lucy: You still look fine.  Honestly, it's not half as bad as you think, and you're wearing the right clothes to hide it.

Emma:  Don't worry.  Happens to us all.  Try the Atkins diet, it's brilliant.  But you look great, anyway! 

Clare goes to loo...

Lucy:  Crikey, hasn't she piled it on!  I mean, she's still pretty, but ...

Emma.  Yeah, but she needs to get a grip.  She told me she's a size 14, but I reckon it's more like 16.....

Both cast an eye up and down each other's forms, to assess which of them is the thinnest. 

Scenario 2

John and Bob are meeting up for the first time in 6 months.  John has put on a lot of weight.

Bob (giving John's stomach a playful slap): Christ, mate, what's all that?  Did you leave any of the pies for anyone else??!

John:  Fuck off you cheeky tosser.

They laugh and retire to the bar for a drink, the subject now done and dusted.






Tuesday, 11 September 2012

THE BEST SALES PLOY EVER


....I bet you thought I was going to tell you how to sell tons of books, didn't you?  Well, it's nothing to do with that!

This is it.

Weightwatchers desserts




They are about 130 calories each (lots of different sorts, my current favourite is the strawberry meringue).  They come in packs of two, and they're GORGEOUS.


The clever sales ploy is putting them in packs of two.

You're trying to lose some weight and you see them in Morrissons and you buy them.  At only 130 calories they can't do any harm, can they?  Later on you eat one, and if you're quite strong willed you save the other one until the next day.  Then, because they're so lovely, next time you're in the supermarket you buy two packs of two; maybe the strawberry meringue, and the chocolate brownie.

Back at home you're not quite so strong willed as the day before, and this time you eat one after dinner, and the other one from the packet a few hours later, whilst watching telly.  Next day you remember how lovely they were, and eat the third one at lunch time.  Followed by the fourth one at about four pm, because they're only 130 calories each, and that's quite reasonable for an afternoon snack, isn't it?

You have now eaten 520 calories worth of zero nutrition, probably extra to the calories you would have otherwise eaten had you not discovered Weightwatchers desserts.

 Thus, you don't lose any weight.

Thus, you resume the diet the following Monday.  Diet resumed (in your head, anyway) you know you'll need low calorie ways to satisfy your sweet tooth.  So, whilst in the supermarket buying all your diet food, you buy a packet of Weightwatchers desserts, promising yourself that you will only eat one per day after dinner.  Of course, you don't.

And so it goes on.

I can see myself buying these lovely, wretched little things forever.