Return of the carbs, come on,
Return of the carbs, OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What a tune that is, and now I’ll probably be singing it for the rest of the day!! Ok, I mentioned that I’d been away at the weekend, and had drank my body weight in vodka, and inhaled carbs like I was told potatoes had become extinct. Yep. I did that. The weekend started so well too-the first meal we ate at lunchtime, came with potatoes, but I just gave them to my husband. Then in the evening, I said I was going to stick to vodka with soda water and lemon/lime (the actual fruits, not the cordial.) But this was rank, so I took the sugar hit and had vodka with cranberry juice. By the end of the evening, I think I’d actually forgotten that I didn’t eat carbs anymore, and the Golden Arches beckoned…!

The next day on the train home, I also ate a massive sandwich, because no M&S train station mung bean salad was going to make me feel less pukey-it was carbs or nothing. Also, at the start of this, I did say that I didn’t want to become one of those people, you know, the ones who can lever let go, and are total diet bores. I hade a fecking awesome weekend, and it was worth every carb!

I did have a slight (actually, temporarily bone crushingly massive) disappointment, when I got home to find I’d gained 2lbs. It just goes to show that with insulin resistance, the effects of steering away from the diet, are quick and completely merciless.

But… I got right back on it the next day, and I have weighed myself, and the 2lbs have now sodded off, taking another 2 with them, taking my total up tooooo……… 18lbs NOW LOST!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Whoop for that! So the odd weekend of carbing it up, and bodyweight vodka drinking is actually ok (I suppose I should put some kind of disclaimer about responsible drinking in here? Well I didn’t , and I’m sure everyone needs a good shitfacing occasionally.)

I’ve discovered that I’m getting bloody fed up with cauliflower rice. I’ve been trying to eat more raw vegetables, and was trying a mixture of raw cauliflower, and raw broccoli. But although broccoli is one of my favourite vegetables when cooked, it’s actually just a bit bitter and overpowering, when raw. I’ve found that a mixture of savoy cabbage and spinach in the food processor, make the best the best rice alternative, occasionally with cauliflower mixed in, to mix it up a bit. I’m also aware that saying that makes me sound like one of those self righteous health freaks that I never thought I’d be, and like I have no life. The former isn’t true, although the latter may be…! Although this series is purely for people interested in weight loss, and to assure others that there are PCOS success stories out there, which if you google it-there are a serious lack of available.

I’ll write out a meal plan next week, I’ve still been modifying meals to make sure they contain no root veg, and also changed some other recipes I’ve been using, to make them a bit more interesting…!

So I’ll leave you with 18lbs lost, again, because even when I started this, I was sure I wouldn’t even lose 1lb. I was sure my body was screwed by hormones, metabolic syndrome, syndrome x, and all the other names that ‘impossible to lose weight’ falls under. It’s nice to not have to be resigned to being miserable anymore.

I absolutely love leaving the house with my exclusively breast fed children, watching them skip and form deep bonds with each other in the park, having an outdoor Kumon session (taught by me obvs,) before eating our organic lunch, freshly prepared by me from scratch that very morning. That’s until I realise that I stomp from the house, trying really hard not to just constantly fucking shout at my kids who were mixed fed, have more interest in picking their noses/bums/willies than learning what I think they need to be learning, while bribing them with chocolate to just put one foot in front of the bloody other, who would rather chew off their own faces rather than eat fruit, all while spending about 95% of the day trying to kick the shit out of each other.

And while I’ve written many times about not being the mother I thought I’d be, this is nothing new-it has happened to every generation before us. Every generation thinks they invented sex drugs and rock and roll, when the truth is it’s always been around, just under different guises. And every generation has decided exactly what kind of parent it’s going to be, but will never be that parent, because we will never have the children we thought we’d have. But yet it will go on-my mum smiled and nodded as I made all of these sweeping statements about what I was going to be like as a parent, and I’ll now smile and nod in the future when my children make the same announcements.

I went away at the weekend-just me and my husband. And I won’t lie-IT WAS FRIGGING AWESOME. We arrived, we drank. We (I) shopped, we drank. We went to the hotel, we slept. We went back out in the evening, and I drank my body weight in vodka, and we chatted like toddlers on speed. I totally forgot about my carb free diet, and spent the end of the evening inhaling carbs like I’d just been told potatoes had become extinct. We had hangovers the next day, but it didn’t matter, because nobody was screaming at us to do shit. Having a hangover while reading magazines and watching crap tv, is only a moderate inconvenience.

But as the day wore on, and I started to miss the children, I started to make new rules about the parent I was going to be once we got back to them. I was never going away again-they need a mum who is always present and there for them. I’m never going to shout at them again, because some random article written by someone who isn’t a psychologist, and has no actual scientific research to back up their opinions, says I shouldn’t do it because I will make them end up in lifelong counselling, and I will need to answer to the devil. I will totally overhaul their diet-it’s appalling, and they will end up contributing to the childhood obesity epidemic. I will be patient with them when we are trying to leave the house, and they are getting undressed quicker than I’m dressing them, and are suddenly fascinated with where babies come from, and with a barely visible ‘baddie’ on their left toe. I will explain where babies come from, because I’m a really fucking cool mum like that, and nurse that baddie with every nursing skill I own-it’s the small things that count right?

But, just like when you were given fresh exercise books at the start of the school year, and vowed to always write in them with your bestest, neatest handwriting for the whole year-then end up making a right fucking mess of them by the end of the second week, like on New Years Eve when you say you’ll never drink again, but manage to make exceptions such as the cat’s birthday, or next Tuesday will be a really hard day so I’ll have one then , and like the generations of ‘I’ll be this kind of parent’ before me-I wasn’t home five minutes before I was muttering ffs into the snack cupboard, looking for Pom Bears to alleviate the incessant moaning into my face which started the second I walked in the door, which my mum assured me she’d seen absolutely bloody none of the whole time we’d been away, while planning my next bid for freedom.

I do it every time I go away too. I have these little epiphanies about all the shit I’m going to change. And it never happens. It’s the circle of parenting life-I’ll always do it, as have those before me, as will others after me. And it’s a funny old thing to keep doing, and never learn your lesson from really, isn’t it?

So this week has been a bit hard… Firstly, my children have been REALLY hard work-including the day I spend much of the afternoon at my GP surgery, being prodded around by several doctors, while the children swung from the curtains, attempted to destroy blood pressure monitors, emptied drawers, and generally made me want to die from shame. In fact, they’ve generally been like that all week, but at that time, I was really feeling the need to tell them in my best angry-but-trying-to-sound-kindly hiss, to just calm the heck down.

Anyway, as you may have guessed from the Drs visit, I haven’t been feeling too well this week. Despite that, I’ve still made it to Sh’bam, spin, HIIT, and body combat. But First, LET’S TALK ABOUT HIIT. My lovely friend convinced me to go along, ‘it’ll be great!’ she said, ‘there’s pair work, we can work together, it’s an amazing workout, better than circuits,’ she said. YOU WILL WANT TO THROW UP DURING THE WARM UP she DIDN’T say…. Jeez, I have given all the classes so far, a really fair shot, but I think it’s fair to say, I am 100% not going back to that. By the end of the next day, my legs were crippled, and I was still suffering the humiliation of being a hot and sweaty mess beside the rest of the class who were MACHINES, and feeling like I’d give myself a black eye from my gut flapping up to smack me in the face, during what felt like hours of ‘high knees.’

Food wise, I’ve stuck to all my usual meals pretty much the same as last week if you wanted to check out last week’s menu! But as well as being a bit under the weather, I’ve had one of those totally unmotivated weeks-you know-where you’re just a bit unmotivated with life in general? My appetite hasn’t been great, and I definitely feel like I’ve been running on empty-physically and emotionally. I was useless at combat today, and spent most of it kind of rolling around on the floor wishing I was at home (it was a very quiet class!) and it’s usually my favourite one.

(What I really wanted to be doing this week…)

I’m hoping I’ll have my mojo back a bit next week! So far, I’m not planning on making any changes to the food, although I might have to look at it again next week if I’m still at a plateau (because I haven’t lost anything this week,) but I have stayed the same, which is fine (I’m a bit disappointed, but trying not to be too hard on myself about it.)

lbs lost: Still 14…

What’s hurting: MY LEGS.

 

Update: Nearly a week after HIIT and my legs are still screwed!

*This is part of my ‘Cysters Are Doing It For Themselves’ series, about trying to kick some PCOS/insulin resistance ass. Other posts in this series can be found below.

PCOS Has Ruined My Life

A Change Is Gonna Come… Food And Exercise Changes I’m Making

Hey Cyster, Go Cyster, Soul Cyster, Go Cyster

Why Does PCOS Always Feel Like A Battlefield, A Battlefield, A Battlefield

Not So Fat Bottom Girl 

See you for next week’s update!