In a new weekly feature, Her.ie newbie Liz is going to share her weight loss journey. She'll be filling you in on fighting temptation, her willpower struggles with the cocktail menu and taking painfully slow steps towards regular exercise. All in the name of a dress.
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Hanging on the wall at the end of my bed is the constant reminder I plan on shedding nearly two stone this year. I also plan on marking the trials and tribulations of ‘trying to be good’ – the favourite saying we all tout, and quickly replace when a cake is put in front of us.
Week six: Fighting through the hormones
There were two massive hurdles in my mission for The Dress this week – and I know I’m not alone.
The first being that TOM came to town, and the second was one of my favourite times of year, the chocolate filled, indulgence eating treat of Easter.
Before people worry I’m about to overshare - don’t be. I’m highly aware this is not the time or place to divulge the details of being a woman. I learnt from an early age that this wasn’t a topic for dinner conversation. Not so much work out, but was actually told. Apparently I wasn’t the happiest camper at the sight of my first period and my mood said so. I’d apologise, but I was a kid. I was also really gifted – it’s like I knew it would be the bane of my existence for the next forty years.
What I will say is that TOM always makes me an emotional wreck. I am likely to cry at the opening of a bag of crisps, and then again when I realise I’ve eaten the entire contents.
TOM also makes me ridiculously hungry. I crave chocolate and sausages (no, not together) and everything in between. I wish I could be graceful, take a square like the magazines advise to ‘give you the taste’ and delicately place it back in the fridge. The reality is for one week a month I’ve set up base camp at the goodie press and no packet of biscuits is safe.
So this was my first problem. Now, combine my addiction to chocolate with the fact this week was bombarded by eggs. Not regular, healthy protein for a balanced diet eggs. It was the hollow chocolate, creamy delicious, filled with miniature treats kind of eggs. Otherwise known as the biggest challenge I was going to face in this mission to date – Easter.
Now my willpower was never going to be regarded as stellar, but this week was going to require some serious effort on my part to keep my hand/ face/ mouth out of the cookie jar.
In the midst of this chocolate conundrum, there was a leaving party for a special Her colleague who is abandoning us this week (ok, that might be a little harsh, I just didn’t want her to go). So, I had a delicious dinner, was somewhat good with the desert (it was sorbet) and treated myself to a couple of glasses of wine. Again, this isn’t the worst case scenario, and if I was eating like a normal hormonally balanced person, it would’ve been a mere blip in an otherwise clean diet.
But that’s asking too much. I was nowhere near being a sane person. I was watching Toy Story in bed and crying when they left Woody behind. This was not the mental state of a woman who was going to be counting points per treat and clocking her portions.
So I gave myself the week off. A kind of mini-break if you will.
I was still eating three meals a day, snacking on healthy food, but having my fun too. There was a little sense of rebellion when I mastered the trick of melting Nutella just enough to smear over the back of a rich tea without burning the pot. This was followed with making smores (apparently I’m now a girl guide) and telling myself it was perfectly acceptable to decapitate a chocolate Lindt bunny.
On my mini holiday with food indulgence, I also decided to relax my new found vocation to exercise. I had no intention of swimming and I was feeling slightly sorry for my crampy self to force a run. So I did three brisk walks and put the guilt trip on hold until next week. (Where I can almost guarantee the scales are going to catch up with me.)
So this was the part of the week I was dreading. You know that anti-holiday buzz feeling that smacks you in the face along with the rain when you step off the plane? Well I had to face up to my diet truancy on the scales, and I was suddenly thinking a nice jog might’ve been a better way to spend an hour rather than weighing in.
So, I took the plunge and stood up. And waited. Hoped and prayed for a miracle.
I was down a half pound. For anyone who expects the pity party circa two weeks ago, you won’t find it here. I was ecstatic. I had a cheat week and it hadn’t come back to bite me in the ass. For once.
I nestled into my seat, and took a quick look around for Mary. She’d warned me she might be skipping this week because she didn’t think she’d be able to stay off the chocolate. I was hoping she’d treated herself to a bottle or two of beer along the way (she told me it sat better with her than the vodka).
So, for anyone who has munched on a chocolate egg this morning with instant post nibbling regret, I promise you it’s probably not as bad as you fear. Don’t let one day (or week) put you off your mission.
As of next week, I’ll get my head back in the game. But I’m off to dip a twirl in my tea before I come crashing back down to reality.
This week's stats go a little something like this -
Height: 5ft 8
Starting Weight: 174 lbs
Current Weight: 164 lbs
Weight Loss To Date: 10.5 lb (Still a loss!)
Goal: 148 lbs
Feeling: Like I’m back on track… as of Monday
The Dress in Question:
Photo via Zara 
