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!

A serious one from me today, a little reflection of the hardest times that having a baby took me to…

There was a woman who lived in the south of England. She was wife of a Keifer Sutherland lookalike, and slave to the role of parenting-but today, she was reflecting on being slave to the role of parenting-there was a time when she never thought she’d get that far…

She remembered a time where she was handed a baby she had just given birth to, and instead of the rush of love she was promised, she felt numb. Empty, cold, nothing…

She remembered feeling like she’d made the biggest mistake of her life, but also the headfuck fear that came with that, that NOBODY MUST EVER KNOW SHE FELT THAT WAY OR THAT THOUGHT EVER ENTERED HER HEAD.

She remembered the feelings of detachment from everyday life that she started to feel, and ignoring them.

She remembered staying awake all night feeling like her heart would beat out of her chest, with the fear that she was going mad. Fear that she couldn’t look after her children. Fear that she’d failed in the one job she had had ever been sure she’d be fucking fabulous at.

She remembered the auditory hallucinations, closely followed by the visual ones.

She didn’t know how she’d work through her feelings about her body and her permanently changed status-how she’d never feel the same about herself again.

She remembered the negative intrusive thought, and how that made her feel she was a danger to everyone around her.

She remembered gagging on any food that came near her mouth.

She remembered the exhaustion-the bone aching, collapse-on-the-floor at any given second exhaustion, but also the nervous energy that made her pace for hours around the streets where she lived-terrified of being trapped inside her house, and inside her own head.

She remembered thinking that she must tell someone, but was worried that telling someone meant that she would be called crazy, have her children taken away, spend the rest of her life locked away. She started by telling the Keifer Sutherland lookalike. He smiled, and told her she’d be ok, and went with her to the Drs.

The Dr smiled at her and told her she’d be ok, and gave her some pills. He told her ‘right, there’s no need to go looking back to 1994 and digging into your past or whatever, to try and ‘find yourself’ or whatever is popular nowadays-this is normal for new parents.’ She still wasn’t ok.

She desperately phoned the out of hours Dr in the night-she couldn’t imagine how she could live a life like this, if it meant feeling like this for ever. The out of hours Dr was cross. ‘You’ve already seen a Dr about this, why are you phoning again??’ She apologised for being a nuisance-she expected a kindly response of ‘it’s ok, it’s what we are here for,’ but was met with a stony silence-the Dr was still cross evidently. The Dr threw some diazepam her way and told her she was incredibly busy. She’s never forgotten that Dr and her total lack of compassion.

She remembered when the shit totally hit the fan, and her mum came to take her children away for a few days. The relief mixed with an indescribable guilt.

She remembered a therapist-one of the nicest people she had ever met. She doesn’t remember a lot of what they talked about, but she remembered that she knew she could tell him anything, and that he eventually made her start to see light at the end of the tunnel. She feels touched by his kindness every day, and knows she will never forget him.

She remembered her heart rate slowing, keeping down her first meal, and the help of people who understood, and even those who didn’t really, but tried.

She promised herself that if she ever came through it, she’d #cherisheverymoment, but in reality, children can still be total shits, if you’re in recovery from postnatal anxiety or not-so she still struggles to #fuckingcherishallofit but she’s grateful that she got better enough to try.

She likes to write funny stories about being a parent, but the reality is, sometimes she just wants to watch Greys Anatomy in bed in her pyjamas, and cry because Denny dies (which is really shit,) and she doesn’t want to see anyone, or do anything, and she feels really quite crap. She doesn’t always feel that stuff is funny. But some of the time it is.

She wants others to know that if they feel the same way, or any way that makes them feel they want help-to keep bloody asking. Screw the shitty out of hours Dr-if they don’t get it, ask someone else. If they don’t get it, keep going. Do not stop until someone goes ‘yep-totally fucking get it-I’m sticking with you till this shit is done.’ Keep. Asking. For. The. Help. You haven’t failed, and you aren’t shit-motherhood is a head wreck and an army to help you through will always help.

Much love. xx
#TimetoTalk

In a city in southern England, there lived a woman. She was the wife of a Keifer Sutherland lookalike, and slave to the role of parent, except, hold on: Not today she wasn’t, because she had just dropped her children off at nursery!

Skipping to the car, shouting ‘FREEDOM’ in random strangers faces, she was ready to Braveheart the shit out of life. She was on her way to the gym, in a bid to regain some of her former body, which had slowly been destroyed by children, and making poor food substituions, such as wine instead of water, and Netflix instead of vegetables.

Skipping to the car, she could feel the pounds melting away already-plus, surely the burden of trying to be a good mum weighed her down by at least 3 stone? She was sure that if she weighed herself, that three stone would also have just fallen right the fuck away!

Anyway, today, she was off to try Sh’Bam-yes, she had no fucking clue either. In the car, she discovered that she could listen to the actual radio, with nobody moaning over the music, and nobody threatening to dump on demand, if they didn’t get to listen to the Horrid Twatting Henry audio book. What’s this? she mused, Radio 1?! How novel, she thought! Except she was expecting Chris Moyles, and was disappointed by the replacement-of course, she had been caught in a time warp, and had forgotten that it had been five years since she had listened to the radio with nobody screaming in her face, and Chris Moyles had fallen off the edge of the planet.

She became disheartened by the choice of music the newcomer was playing, and she suddenly remembered that Radio 1 had very strict rules about the type of music they played-the first being the song had to be less than two minutes old, the second being it had to have no staying power whatsoever.

But what was this? Outkast?? Hey Frigging Ya=TUNE!!!!!! The mum was definitely in the mood for Sh’Bamming the shit out of life now, forget Braveheart. She was going to shake it, shake it , shake it like a polaroid fucking picture. Outkast! She still couldn’t believe it! She also remebered that they were responsible for the legendary lyrics: ‘I know you like to think your shit don’t stink, but but lean a little bit closer, see, roses really smell like poo poo poo,’ which is actually a metaphor for LIFE, is it not? (Fact: original lyrics are ‘smells like boo boo boo’, which apparently means poo? Confused much? There’s entire forums dedicated to debating it, who knew!)

She further skipped into the gym, and found that Sh’Bam was a glorified Latin-American dance class, with lots of gyrating, hip thrusting, and boob wobbling-there were a few jumps thrown in, just to test the pelvic floor of the mainly postnatal women in attendance.

The mum’s dreams of shaking it like a polaroid picture were shattered into a million pieces, when her pelvic floor didn’t meet Sh’Bam standards, and she let out a bit of wee.

The moral of the story? Do your fucking pelvic floor exercises.

*I update this kind of ‘series’ on Facebook if you fancy following it there!*

Ok, so this week has been a bit up and down… The good news is, I have lost 2lbs-YAY!! Which takes my total amount up to 10lbs. And 2lbs a week was what I was aiming for anyway. The down side is, I kind of feel like I’m killing myself to do it, but that’s also the frustrating reality of PCOS and insulin resistance.

By the end of this week, I will have done 4 spin classes, 1 Sh’Bam class, 1 combat class, and 2 circuits classes. I’ve also not touched any of the foods that are on my ‘avoid’ list, and just had 1 gin and tonic after a God awful day yesterday…. As yet, although I feel stronger, my head feels clearer, I’ve been having fewer afternoon ‘if I don’t sleep I might actually die’ feelings (which used to happen every day to me, without fail, regardless of how much sleep I’d had the night before,) I can’t actually see any physical differences yet, but I seem to be hurting, all over my body, at all times. And it’s annoying me quite a bit.

(Seeeeeeeeeriously, those seats…. It’s like a vajayjay massacre…!)

I also had the classic (but definitely unintentional on the part of the person who said it,) ‘but I don’t understand why it’s not falling off. If it were me, I’d have dropped stones by now.’ It’s just one of the ways insulin resistance likes to kick you in the teeth unfortunately.

There was also a bad day where I broke my own rule (again!) of not googling shit, and spent a large part of a day googling shit-and driving myself into a right old panic. I read some blogs and sites dedicated to insulin resistance, and of course, ended up with conflicting information. It ended with my husband coming home from work, and me almost sobbing ‘carrots and peas! I’m not supposed to be bloody eating them! Carrots and fucking peas, how can they possibly reverse all the work I’ve done??’ And my husband telling me I needed to get a grip, and that carrots were not going to jump out of the fridge and kill me.

Another site I found said that basically lentils were the work of the devil for insulin resistance, and even linked to a piece of research that alleged that they were really bad for you. My husband is right, I do need to get a grip-I’ve written a dissertation, and I’ve worked in a job where I’ve had to analyse research in order to identify the wheat from the chaff-it all needs careful analysing, and a lot of it can be proved to be bullshit. Blogs, like this one, are also opinion. Some of the stuff I read was based purely on opinion, and what had worked for that person. Although what I write about in this section of my blog is based on science as much as I can possibly research properly, some of it will be opinion, and will not work for others.

So I calmed down a bit, and looked at the Diabetes UK  site, which is where I should’ve gone first, because of course, it only contains actual solid evidence based answers. So, some of the veg I’m eating should be limited-Beetroot (I was aware of this already) parsnips, peas, sweet potato and sweetcorn and butternut squash should all be limited. That means that some of the meals that are on my Fab list, need to be modified-anything that has spiralised butternut squash (squashetti) I’ll now need to make courgetti instead. Note: carrots weren’t mentioned, but I’m going to eliminate them anyway, just to be sure…!

Apparently, the jury is still out on lentils (not the food of the devil then!) and they can affect some people, but not others. The advice from Diabetes UK is to have a very small handful, if you’re going to have them. So, the prawn lentil curry that we love, will have to be changed, as it’s just curried lentils with prawns-waaaay too many lentils.

So here is a modified list of what I’ve cut out, and next week I will include a meal plan of our now modified favourite meals!

What I’m NOT Eating:

All fruit (I was eating apple and pear in small amounts, but I’ve cut that too.)

All dried fruit.

Maple syrup (I was using this to sweeten things, but I’m cutting it.)

Sweet potato

Butternut squash

Carrots

Peas

Beetroot

Parsnips

Quinoa (boooo, but I’m saying goodbye to this too)

Lentils-kind of-I’ll keep going with small handfuls, but may cut completely.

Bread (ocaasional slices of rye bread only.)

All dairy (replacing with coconut/almond based products. Also tried to vegan dairy free cheese-#VOMWORTHY)

Oats

Pasta of any variety

Red meat (that’s mainly personal choice, it could still be eaten with IR)

I think it goes without saying that chocolate/crisps/biscuits etc are all definite no gos, but I’ve included them anyway!

Wish me luck for next week…!

(They look innocent, but caused me no end of mental anguish…!)

Hi #pinklinker taggers! Week 18 seems to have rolled around very quickly! Here are my (snowy) favourites from this week! We had a smattering of snow here, but it had disintegrated by the time the children could holler ‘do you wanna build a snowmaaaaaaaaan?’ Cue disappointment!

Photo credits:

Top left: Monkey and Mouse (@jennyseaves)

Top right: Five Little Doves (@fivelittledoves)

Bottom left: The Gardeners Wife (@the_gardenerswife)

Bottom right: Mudpie Fridays (@mudpiefridays)

Please check out these gorgeous accounts, and keep tagging your pictures!!