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!

So, we all know that there was once a mum who lived in the south of England. We know that she was married to a Keifer Sutherland lookalike. We know that in her household, nobody ever listened to a fucking word she said, or ate anything she cooked. We know that she has PCOS, which she is currently trying to kick the crap out of its carb hating/insulin resistant ass. We know that she tries to do this by sometimes #shabammingtheshitoutoflife.

Well, today’s story finds her on her way to #bodycombattheshitoutoflife. Except she arrives at the gym to find she *dramatic gasp* hasn’t shaved her armpits…

She is faced with several choices:
1. Turn around and go home. There is no place for female body hair in the gym.

2. #bodycombattheshitoutoflife with her arms pinned to her side. (That would be well worth filming surely.)

3. #bodycombattheshitoutoflife at the back of the room, and hope she isn’t mistaken for a gorilla during any of the punching move busting.

She scratched her head, and thought: WWGGD. What Would Germaine Greer Do?

Well, she’d probably not be at the gym for a start. She wouldn’t give a shit who didn’t like her wobbly, insulin resistant ass-she’d change it for no fucker.

If she did go inside, the woman mused that Germaine would probably strip off to her bra and knickers, and march in there all pubes blazing, plaiting her leg and armpit hair as she went, while singing ‘cast off the shackles of yesterday’ as per Mrs Banks from Mary Poppins fame.

She’d probably use her bikini line hair to make a rope to gag anyone who passed comment on her hairy status.

She definitely wouldn’t wear any makeup, and definitely wouldn’t suffer the same the woman once had, of going to a spin class with last nights makeup on, and getting to the car to find most of the mascara residing just under her eyebrows, and salty sweat streaks running through her foundation.

But, as the woman was a disgrace to feminists everywhere, she chose to ignore #WWGGD What Would Germaine Greer Do? And she went home. Oh well, at least it saved the double whammy embarrassment of possibly letting out a bit of wee during a round house, plus being mistaken for a gorilla.

On her way home she was telephoned by the Keifer Sutherland lookalike.

“Guess what just happened?????” He said, sounding horrified.

“What dear, it sounds terrible,” she replied.

“A client just said ‘you remind me of someone. Someone famous,’ and I said (probably with a swaggy point and a wink) I know, is it Keifer Sutherland, I get it all the time (probably a smirk in there at this point) and she said ‘no, I was thinking of DONALD Sutherland-his father’…”

The bit of wee that didn’t get to come out at body combat, then escaped at that moment, during massive amounts of giggling and snorting that ensued…😂😂

The moral of the story? Invest in a cap sleeved gym t-shirt so that you can indulge yourself in never shaving your armpits while having the added benefit of not being mistaken for a gorilla while basking in your own hairiness. And also, that at a certain age, you will come to resemble the father of the celebrity you love that everyone mistakes you for, and it will be really bloody funny to your younger wife…!!    

So this happened: I’ve lost a stone. 14 whole lbs. Yes, me. It’s actually happened. (Ok, so my arse is still fat, but a few lbs less so, which definitely makes me less of a fat bottom girl.) This was also in spite of turning up at our friends house for Burns Night with a sheer determination that no neeps and tatties would pass my lips, and nor would any alcohol, before proceeding to eat all the neeps and tatties, and a load of cheese, and drink my body weight in alcohol (um, oops…!) I also went on holiday the following week, and had 2 glasses of wine, and 2 ciders in the hot tub when the children had gone to bed. It would’ve been rude not to, and there had to be some fun, because holidays with toddlers still really aren’t holidays are they (aka I really bloody needed it by the end of the day.) So yea, in spite of all that!

WELL HALLEFRICKINLUJAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I honestly can’t believe it!

It means that…

After four years of the wrong information, and some serious frustration, I’ve finally found something that works.

Don’t listen when people tell you not to cut out certain foods-it might seem horrific to them, but if they’re affecting YOUR health, cut them loose.

Being insulin resistant doesn’t make it IMPOSSIBLE to lose weight. It just makes it really fucking hard.

GPs don’t know what they’re talking about when it comes to diet-always see a dietician (even if you have to pay,) and do your own research/trial and error.

You can still have a blow out every now and again, and it won’t undo absolutely everything you’ve done (which was honestly my take on it.)

The direction of this series will change a little-I was sure it was going to be about me struggling to lose anything for weeks and weeks, but now it’ll hopefully be more celebration of success, and possibly needing to find solutions if I reach a plateau, or any other problems.

What I’ve been eating:

Monday 

Breakfast: Cacao and coconut granola with coconut milk and coconut yogurt.

Lunch: This has turned into my new favourite lunch, and I’ve had it every day this week…! Raw Veg Scramble-because I have cut a lot of foods out, and made my portions quite small, I want to eat more raw vegetables. So I put a load in the food processor, and keep them in the fridge in a bowl, ready to throw into meals. So for this, fry off half an onion, half a pepper, and some halved cherry tomatoes in some coconut oil and garlic. Add half a tin of tuna and cook for a little longer. Take off the heat, and add generous handfuls of the raw veg ‘grains,’ until you have the portion size you want. To add some flavour, I’ve mixed in a dash of rice wine vinegar, because it’s sugar free. You could use soy sauce, or balsamic vinegar, but both contain sugar (although pretty marginal to be fair,) and there is soy bean in the soy sauce. But the amounts you’d consume are tiny, and I’m not sure that it’d make any difference at all. It’s a really fab lunch option!

Dinner: Prawn and coconut curry with cauliflower rice.

Tuesday

Breakfast: Scrambled egg and spinach.

Lunch: Raw veg scramble.

Dinner: Courgetti with chicken in a mustard sauce.

Wednesday

Breakfast: Mixed nut ‘porridge’

Lunch: Raw veg scramble.

Dinner: Chicken and green veg fritters, with salad (I used to make these fritters with butternut squash, but since I have given up butternut squash, I made them with spinach and spring greens instead.)

Thursday

Breakfast: Cacao and coconut granola, with coconut milk and coconut yogurt.

Lunch: Raw veg scramble.

Dinner: I went out to dinner for a friend’s birthday. It’s the first time I’ve been in an Indian restaurant since I started this diet… I ordered mixed spiced vegetables, instead of rice, and had a prawn malabari-prawns in a coconut and coriander sauce. Without asking loads of questions, and not wanting to draw too much attention to myself, it seemed the best option to suit what I needed!

Today:

Breakfast: Skipped it (oops) as I was late getting children to nursery, then went straight to the gym.

Lunch: Raw veg scramble.

Dinner: Mr W has requested chicken lentil curry (even though we had curry last night!) so I will make that for him, but as I’m not eating lentils anymore, I’m going to have spiced vegetables, cauliflower rice, and chicken.

I haven’t done as much exercise as I’d like this week, due to Mr W’s work schedule, and I’ve been a bit under the weather-I hope to be back to splitting my vajayjay in spin, and peeing my pant in Shabam, next week!

The other articles in this ‘Cysters Are Doing It For Themselves’ 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… Struggles I’ve Had This Week