I'm sitting watching The Biggest Loser and wondering how these people lose so much weight each week. I know they are very very big, morbidly obese in all cases but there are people loosing 14lbs each week. How?
I understand they are locked in a ranch with diet and exercise advice and motivation on hand 24/7. They have personal trainers who are pretty brutal but still 14lbs in a weeks. How is that possible? How is that healthy?
Take the biggest contestant ever, a woman weighing in at 476 lbs. Wow that's scary but she looses 100 lbs in 9 weeks.
I don't know about everyone else but when I decide I need to lose a few pounds I struggle to lose 1lb a week but she has lost an average of 10+lbs each week. How?
I'm not a person that doesn't understand healthy diet and exercise, I know about calories, I understand nutrition. I don't always make the right choices but I at least appreciate where I'm going wrong. I have in the past struggled with weight gain when I have had certain types of tablets. One that had a side effect of weight gain, it should have said increased appetite because I just couldn't stop eating. I was waking up during the night and going to get food, any food. I only took it for about 8 weeks and piled on. I had to stop taking them because I felt so huge. Once I stopped I lost that weight but it took much longer to lose than it did to put on. A week on The Biggest Loser would have probably done it!
I could do with losing some weight, at the moment I must have gained some because my smaller clothes feel tight and uncomfortable. I don't want to buy new bigger clothes. I need to take inspiration from people I know who have lost loads of weight, people who can barely walk but have forced themselves to do it. This woman at nearly 400lbs walk/jogged 2 miles. I can't jog 2 miles.
I walk a lot with the dogs but it isn't exactly power walking when you go at sniffing speed. I do my yoga 2 to 3 times a week and that generally works up a sweat and leaves me with various painful muscles. I also do all the dog training and agility but that isn't focused on me. Maybe I should try to move about a bit more.
But my main problem must be food, I love food. I also don't really like cooking so eating out works for me. I love chocolate. I like too many things that are not good for you, I eat them.
So how do I take inspiration from the Biggest Loser and lose my spare pounds? Having just watched the last chance work out I realise they are pushed / push themselves so much harder than I do. They look like they are about to have heart attacks. One guy just collapsed on the treadmill and rolled off the back. I guess you might need the brutal trainers to do this.
So I had my doctors appointment today and it went OK. With typical over stretched NHS care I had about 3 minutes with the doctor after having not seen her for about a year. I sold the positive benefits of my meds in about 1 minute, she said "Oh yes you requested these yourself didn't you?" Making me wonder if she thinks it is some sort of placebo effect? It so isn't, the difference between these and the other antidepressants I've tried is vast. There is a reason for this, it is a different type of drug acting on two neurotransmitters rather than one and by a mechanism that is different (but not understood) than other similar drugs.
She took my blood pressure, it was very high. She asked if I was nervous, ohh yes. She took it again and it was normal. A unique ability to normalise my blood pressure with the power of thought?
The verdict was because I have had multiple bouts of depression I can take these meds for 2 years before they consider stopping them or reducing the dose to see what happens. My choice would be to just keep taking them as long as they work but we can have that discussion next year.
Star and Sasha said I should write this cos their paws are too big to type.............ok, ok, I know they can't talk or write but if they could then this is what they would make me write:
Yesterday we headed to the Edinburgh version of the beach. It is actually a river bank but so close to the river's mouth it is very beach like. The girls had a nice run around and splash in the water. When we were leaving the beach a little Yorkshire Terrier (puppy) dashed up to us to play with the girls. He was very taken with Star and started to follow us along the beach. I looked around but couldn't see anyone obviously looking for a dog. I walked backwards and forwards for a while expecting someone to shout for the dog or for the dog just to get bored and leave.
Eventually I gave up and sat on a wall. Every where I walked the terrier followed (quick flashback to Mary had a little lamb there) so I didn't want to go back to the car in case the dog went on the road. Sasha wasn't very impressed with the stranger but Star thought he was ok. We sat for a while but no one came. I realised that there was a ID tag on the terriers collar so tried to get close enough to see it. I could then call the owners and either get them to come find him or I could take him home. Every time I reached for the dog he moved away. I called Star over to me and the little Yorkie followed her, I managed to get hold of his collar and was just trying to read the tag when it bit me. Not a bad bite, it was only a young dog so not a very big mouth, but he broke the skin.
After that I didn't really know what to do I had been stalked by his small dog for 40 minutes by this point and it was getting cold. I was just thinking about taking it to the police station as a lost dog when a foreign guy came towards us shouting something. The dog ran over to him and he just turned and walked away.
So the girls and I came home and I clean my dog bite.
Just occurred to me now that my little dogs who have never touched anyone are ion more trouble for being friendly than that little dog is for biting someone. Makes no sense.
I have to go to the doctors tomorrow, just a review appointment so that they will let me get another repeat prescription. I hate going to the doctors, hate, hate, hate it. If I had a big cut, broken bone, a rash or something visible I don't think it would be so bad but it seems like nearly everything I've ever gone to the doctors for has been invisible.
I never quite know what to say and probably don't help them very much. I now know that one doctor actually started asking me the questions used to help diagnose bipolar years ago but I sort of lied because I didn't want her to judge me. Yes, I see how this is stupid.
I went to about 4 doctors over a period of a few years to try to say that I felt awful and miserable all the time but never managed to get the words out. I don't know why I have this problem? I know that some people feel like doctors are special and some doctors enforce this with their god complex. I work in the pharmaceutical industry, I probably understand what some drugs do better than a lot of doctors, I decided on my current medicine myself. I shouldn't have a problem talking to doctors, they are just people doing a job.
I think the problem is that when it comes to depression or bipolar diagnosis it involves telling the doctor things you aren't really proud of. Or things that most people wouldn't feel, think or say. I understand now why I was diagnosed with mild depression when in reality I have had major depression a few times and I'm definitely somewhere on the bipolar scale.
I guess I just need to tell the truth about how it was and how it is with my drugs. It doesn't sound hard.
All I want is to be able to keep taking the meds I have been, no changes. I'm doing alright, my life isn't perfect, I get stressed, I occasionally get upset but it's all ok. I don't want to get back on the roller coaster I used to live on, I like it here on the ground.
A visitor from the US recently asked what the pretty black and white birds that we have in Scotland are called. Magpies! I hadn't really thought about it but was surprised (I don't know why) to find that they are not so common elsewhere in the world. I was also surprised to hear them described as pretty because most people I know don't like them. Why not? The song of course:
One for sorrow, two for joy;
Three for a girl, four for a boy;
Five for silver, six for gold;
Seven for a secret, never to be told;
Eight for a wish, nine for a kiss;
Ten for a bird that's best to miss.
Or the older version:
One for sorrow, two for mirth,
Three for a wedding, four for a birth,
Five for silver, six for gold,
Seven for a secret not to be told.
Eight for heaven, nine for hell,
And ten for the devil's own sel'.
Why one for sorrow, two for joy? Apparently they mate for life so seeing one means it's lost it's mate. Not necessarily considering she could be sitting on eggs. Seeing one Magpie is supposed to be bad luck, they have been considered an ill omen since the early 16th century. For some reason, like crows, they are associated with the devil and seen as evil?
I know people who's day an be ruined because of one black and white bird. This has lead me to suggest a stapling programme to ensure they are always seen in pairs. People who lack a sense of humour think this is cruel.
Apart from the song people dislike them because they are cheeky, challenging and arrogant. They are killers who are getting blamed for the decline of songbirds such as the thrush (although the RSPB have proved this isn't the case). As a result, they're often hunted but Magpies are cunning and difficult to trap.
So they are just trying to survive (live long and prosper even), mate for life and have a cheeky chappie attitude so people hate them. They have adapted with the environment and people decide they are villains, bit ironic really.
So having someone described them as pretty made me take another look, they are beautiful, striking birds with a bluey / green tinge to their black feathers. I also learned that they kill loads of creepy crawlies and pests so not so evil after all. In China and Korea they are a symbol of happiness so at least someone loves them.
I've decided that the only superstitions I'm bothering with are ones that mean good things so as far as Magpies are concerned I'm following the Chinese.
Last winter when it was really cold I had the furry ones out at night and I saw the most amazing thing, a rainbow around the moon. I stood outside for ages just looking at it, fantastic. I had never seen anything like this before. It was one of those things that make you appreciate how wonderful the world can be.
When I mentioned it most people hadn't seen one but one person said it was a moonbow and that they are really rare. I did try to take a picture but my camera isn't that good. By the power that is Google here are some from people with posh cameras:
Stolen from - link - where you can learn all about moonbows if you are of a curious nature.
Stolen from - link
These are the best pictures I could find but they are nothing like seeing the real thing. Keep your eyes on the moon, its worth it.
Yes that's right, there is no difference, both dogs pictured here have been accused of anti social behaviour.
Did you get it, the four breeds pictured at the top are banned in the UK under the dangerous dogs law. The two dogs pictured under them are known to be great family pets!
So enough of testing your knowledge of dangerous doggys and on to the sad tale of the asbo cavaliers!
We have been very good going to asbo rehabilitation 5 days a week and the girls are trying very hard. They are starting to learn to socialise with other dogs without getting too nervous and they are getting really good at the obedience things. Star has some attention deficit issues but Sasha is fab.
At home we are not having the best time. Every time I see that child he runs away screaming for his mum regardless of whether or not the furry fiends are with me. Tonight he was on his scooter when I drove my car into the car park. He scooted up the road shouting for his mum. She then comes to the window and watches me get out of the car and walk to my house. This is repeated every time I see him.
On a morning she is quite often at the kitchen window smoking when I get back from asbo school, she always watches us even though the child isn't outside. Her husband was heading to his car one day when I got home and he stopped and watched me park, get out, get the dogs out and walk to my house before he went back to getting in his car.
Last week I had a few days where I decided I would park at the other side of my house. This car park is on the main road near a bus stop and I never park there. When I moved in seven years ago I decided the back car park was better, it's nearer my flat and off the main road. But for 3 days I parked at the other side to avoid this family. Then I decided that I'm not going to let them change the way I live, I've done nothing wrong.
Today I noticed there is a long scratch down the side of my car, can't help but blame the child. Paranoid? I don't know, maybe.
They are making me feel pretty uncomfortable but I don't know if there is much I can do about it.
Anyway spotted these fabby doggy t-shirts:
Do you think they make them small enough for Star and Sasha?
It appears England are trying to steal one of Scotland's biggest tourist attractions. I understand they considered taking Edinburgh Castle (too heavy), Loch Lommond (too wet), Glasgow (too scary), kilts (a wee bit drafty) so they decided on something easier to transport:
I trust you see why they have targeted Nessie. Very easy to steal, you don't even have to go to Loch Ness to pick her up. But you see their error, the "Loch Ness" Monster obviously lives in Loch Ness so England can't have a Loch Ness Monster. The best they can hope for is that Nessie as a fine wee Scottish lassie might head down to England for her holidays.
But with the options available, cheap flights and all that Nessie would be off to the US to introduce herself to all those Americans whose ancestors she knew. She might head out to other parts of Scotland to do a bit of Haggis hunting or perhaps nip over to Ireland to visit her pal the giant's causeway.
So what they are really talking about is the creation of the Lake Windermere Monster,a young pretender if you will. Bonnie Monster Winnie! Well I don't like their chances, Nessie has been around Loch Ness since 565AD (source) and has built up an extensive record of sightings. What has this newcomer got, some ripples in the water and the ramblings of a hotel owner.
I suggest the monster hunters of Windermere find themselves their own idea and keep their hands off Scotland's elephant.
Seriously difficult because I don't really have a crush on anyone except Mr Midnite and he comes in under some of the other letters. Is it normal to not have a crush on someone? I always used to when I was younger. Anyway in the interests of doing the challenge I cast my mind back to the 17 year old me who went from crush to crush so that I can write to the guy I fancied for so so long and never did anything about.
Dear Crush Man
I see you every weekend but we never speak. I wait all week to see you and always want to say something but I never do. I dress for nights out to impress you but you don't seem to notice. You always look so good, I love the way you dress and the way you dance, even your gestures while you talk. I watch you from afar and wonder what you are really like but I guess I'll never really know.
The first time I saw you we talked, it was at the bottom of the steps in Duffy's. I loved your bright blue eyes, so clear they don't look quite real. You talked to me about music and asked if I'd seen your friends. After that I spent then night hoping to see you again. Now week after week I see you but I'm too shy and embarrassed to speak. I know so many of your friends but you aren't with them when I am. I think every week that I will speak to you, I decide what to say. Nothing special, just "hello, how you doing?" But, every week I fail to find these simple words once you are there.
I know you have a girlfriend, she's a bitch. I'm not saying this because I fancy you, she really is a bitch. You deserve better. I know your friends, they can be a bit out of control. I don't think you're like that, I don't hear your name in the gossip. The things they do, dodgy to say the least. I know you have a job so maybe you're not like them.
This week I will speak to you. I'll say hello and maybe then we can be friends.
I discovered something today. I can balance better when my mind is calm. I discovered this over a few weeks of wobbling over during yoga with the very, very occasional class of perfect balance.
Moria the yoga teacher said that when your mind is active and thinking about lots of things your focus is in your head and this makes it very hard to balance. To balance you need to move your focus down your body to lower your centre of gravity. A calm mind makes this easier.
On Wednesday night I attempted a tree pose and couldn't do it at all. I was attempting just to raise one foot as high as my ankle and balance. No chance, I was all over the place. Today a graceful tree grew from my yoga mat, with my foot placed above the opposite knee and held there for a good minute, both sides.
Quick note: this picture is not me, I stole it off the Internet!
My main reason for doing yoga is to help me stay calm, to prevent the racing thoughts that fill up my head most of the time. Today I have a quiet mind, I have great balance but sadly I can't think of anything really to blog about. I'm sure the ideas will be back soon.
Tuesday was a fun day, well not for me but hopefully you will find it slightly amusing.
I woke up feeling a bit dodgy but struggled off to Asbo rehabilitation and trudged around the field trying to get the furry ones to cooperate. Driving home I felt really awful and decided not to go to work. So I headed back to my bed and shivered with my head under the pillow for a few hours.
About 2 in the afternoon the dogs indicated they would like to go out. I got out of bed and changed out of my jammies into baggy, saggy leggings and a scruffy t-shirt. Not my best look. Put little ballet pump slipper things on my feet and took the girls down to the garden. A couple of minutes later we headed back up the stairs to my flat.
I got to the door, turned the handle and nothing. I stared blankly at the door wondering why it wasn't opening. Keys! I looked in a puzzled way at my hands which were holding nothing. Ooops. "We're locked out girls".
I went back down to the garden and sat on the path to contemplate my situation. I am outside wearing scruffy clothes, inappropriate shoes, no underwear and have with me two dogs. I look up at my windows and realise they are closed and even if they weren't the only option I could come up with would have been to throw Star up and hope she could climb through and them go and open the door. Lassie she isn't.
So I started thinking about spare keys.
My parents took the liberty of getting themselves a set cut but they are a 3 hour drive away. I don't think they would appreciate a 6 hour trip just to open my door.
Mr Midnite has keys but I have not yet managed to memorise his mobile number and my phone was locked in the flat.
My best friends have an emergency spare set of keys but they were at work. Without my mobile I couldn't phone them, no chance of remembering their mobile numbers anyway. I thought about walking round to their house and waiting on the doorstep until they arrived home. Two problems: shoes that are more slippers and a lack of support around the chest area. Slightly lesser issue: publicly looking like a tramp. I decided I would rather stay outside.
Finally my brain starts to work and I have an idea. I can phone someone at work and get a message to my best friends. They can then go and get my keys and bring them round. So I knocked on my neighbours door and asked if I could use their phone, I got through to work and left the message. It was then just a case of waiting. And waiting. And waiting. Fortunately it was a sunny day so me and the furry ones sat in the sun. I started thinking that the message hadn't got through. Perhaps terrorists had intercepted my brave messenger. I was thinking that I would have to do the unsupported walk.
And then through the setting sun I see my knight in shining Nissan arriving to save me! Boy best friend pulls up and laughingly hands over my keys as I exclaim "I love you". He had finished work, gone to pick up the boys and then my keys. Four hours I was sat outside.
An interesting way to spend the afternoon, the moral of the story is not to leave home without a bra!