I’m not a big blog writer, as you may have noticed by my small back catalogue. I’ve posted a few things but they aren’t really ‘blogs’. But I figured I could give it a proper go, make an effort etc, I mean… How hard can it be, it’s just like talking but written down! And I talk all the time!
So here it goes, my new blogging effort…. Erm…. What is there to blog about?
I’m trying to lose weight. It’s not easy. A traditional upbringing has led me to believe that plates should be full at the start of a meal and empty at the end, and that is how I’ve eaten since I could remember. I’ve always enjoyed food too! Cooking it as well as eating it. So attempting the controversial Cambridge diet has been a bit of a personal challenge.
I’ve tried various diets before, low fat, high protein, cereals, Mediterranean, see food (I won’t elicit the obvious groan with the punch line to that) but I’ve never been able to crack that bad food craving. I always end up eating stodge, or sausage rolls, or sausage baps. Once, mid-diet, I tried a recipe gleaned from Supersize vs Super-skinny… A large cheese topped barn bap, smeared in mayonnaise filled with two sausage rolls and more cheese! Now bear in mind this was DURING my diet!
I’m not particularly large in stature, I’m 5ft 7inches tall (or just over) medium build. I used to weigh 10st, but as the marriage and contentment settled in and shift work took over my life went from eating little and often and playing sports everynight to loading with carbs and fats and either being at work or on the sofa recovering from work. Sport slowly petered out. My stomach, however grew… And grew…. And grew. But the strange thing is, I never noticed! When I looked down that gut always seemed to be the same size. Never appeared to be much bigger. Then one day, trying clothes on in Next I noticed in their hall of mirrors that is a changing room that my body resembled a melted Michelin man.
I weighed in at 16st 7lb and all of a sudden I was a fat Dad. I noticed I got out of breath getting in and out of the bath. I was never cold. My clothes had slowly gone from fashionable to industrial. I no longer had a sideways!
I tried in vain to diet and exercise, but my large frame made jogging painful and the dieting was always short lived due to lack of will power.
Then my wife started dieting. I honestly thought that my wife didn’t need to lose weight but she started to anyway. And she looks good. REALLY good! But it wasn’t that that has motivated me, nor seeing the constant flow of unhealthy patients through work. It was wanting to do it for my wife. Supporting her through what was obvious a very difficult process of changing habits and sticking to her strict regime made me proud, she put herself through hell in order to achieve what she wanted and it is that that has motivated me to achieve it too.
And so I have embarked on the Cambridge Diet. Spurned and belittled by many, approved and promoted by others it ultimately comes down to personal choice and will power.
I’ve stuck to it, despite how bloody hard it is to not eat and watch those around you eat pizza and kebabs (you know who you are, you shits!) but I’m getting there. Old clothes, long tidied away have been brought to life again. My uniform, instead of being tight, is now loose, very loose! Shorts I bought last summer, that I couldn’t get near to doing up, are now baggy! I feel good, starting to look good and people are noticing. And despite protestations about “skin deep” and “what’s inside that counts” people do just bracket you as fat. Although I’m not suggesting I’m big boned or have a glandular problem, people look at you different, especially around food. Innocent comments that sometimes come out a bit barbed about you and your eating habits do, eventually, wear you down.
But no more, for me at least, I’m getting there, still a way to go, but I’ve not felt so motivated, positive or accomplished about things for a while. Soon I will be slim enough to fit into fashionable clothes again, will be able to enjoy being topless and relaxing on the beach again, can play sports without wobbling for a week after again! Soon the world will be my (low calorie) oyster again.
And I can’t wait to have a burger to celebrate!
Originally posted May 30th 2007
I’m sick, and I’m a man, so it’s bound to be something far worse than the cold my wife has had! I also have a Wii-njury. Too much Wii Golf and baseball can give you a bad back! It’s surprising how much energy you invest in swinging that bloody ‘bat’ only for it to be a foul ball AGAIN! My son seems to casually flick his wrist whilst sitting down simultaneously playing his PSP and still gets strikes, homeruns and holes in one, while I’m stood in his room, flailing my arms about like an epileptic monkey on crack and scoring no points what-so-ever! I really am past it! It’s a special moment for a father and son. When the age comes about that you finally beat your Dad at something. Your Dad is iconic as the man in your life that knows everything from putting up shelves, intimate knowledge of ball valves, can save penalties from Maradona, score 6′s all day long and can undo ANY jar lid. He is, essentially, a super hero. But one day it happens. That vitally important day when you beat your Dad at something. You know then that one day for sure, you’ll become the Alpha male. I never gave my Dad any thought the day I was able to re-wire some electrics he couldn’t manage. Or when I beat him at pool, or mini-golf. Or when I pointed out he had the controller upside down and that’s why I was winning 8-0! I was too busy lost in my new found pride, that I had been able to beat MY DAD! But now I’m a Dad and I have come to realise that over the years I have had the answers, I have dealt the 8-0 defeats and I have put up the shelves but this supremacy is crumbling. Quickly. My eldest boy comfortably beats me at most games as I fumble with the stupid controller (which is obviously broken and the reason I can’t do it. It can’t be me!). He knows the questions on quizzes that I pretended I knew (well it’s been a long time since I did Geography, and he’s doing it everyday!). He is also nealry taller then me. My reign will soon be over. Last weekend I was already reassigned to taxi driver as I sat outside an Indie Night, freezing in my car wishing I’d worn a coat as well as my sensible jumper, hoping he wouldn’t be long as I wanted to go to bed!
It’s a good job my youngest son can’t yet manage jar lids! I can keep my cape on for a few more years!
I was thinking about people. Generally most people want a quiet life don’t they? I mean on the whole, with the exception of those moments you let off steam. There are, I acknowledge, a few anti social people who derive pleasure from unprovoked violence, arson, loud noise and aggravation and telephone sales. Now the first few on the list are covered by some sort of authority but the last one however seems to have a free reign to cause misery and frustration in equal measure with no thought for anyone other than themselves and their stupid company. And they all seem to have my number!
I just don’t understand them, particularly when they just won’t take no for an answer. I expect a little pressure, as that’s their job, but some seem completely psychotic and unable to grasp the concept of NO! For instance I was repeatedly called from some mobile company asking me about upgrading my phone saying they could offer me a better deal. At first I thought it might be a good way of saving money so humoured them. Their offer was actually to upgrade me to an inferior phone that I would have to pay more money a month than I already do! I politely declined the offer, stating my reasons and that’s when it began….. The haggling! Except the sales guy either didn’t understand English or was released early before his medication had taken full effect! Trouble was I’m no good in these situations an I can’t help going along with it. I need to learn to just hang up! This is how the conversation continued!….
“Ah, but does your phone have Bluetooth, sir?”
Yes. It does so I’m not intere….
“How about a 1 megapixel camera?”
I have 1.3..
“But sir, you can get this phone with 64mb of on board memory for your pictures”
My phone has 128mb plus a 2gb memory card. I’m not interested so…
“But sir…”
Why am I being so polite?! Just put the phone down!
“Sir, what if I told you you could have this phone for just £30 a month!?”
Wow, £30 a month? So a worse phone for £5 more than I already pay? Great!
“OK sir, how about this. I’ll do you a deal for £25 a month plus 100 texts
“I’m sorry, I’m not interested, and anyway I get 300 texts plus I don’t want the phone! Just bloody hang up you fool!
“Well you could give the phone away?”
Well what’s the point in upgrading then?
“Because you can save money”
But I’m not!
“Well what could I offer you to make it worth while”
Shit, I wasn’t expecting that, how do I politely get out of this. Hang on why am I being so polite, this guy has interrupted my day
“Sir?…”
“Yes, erm, nothing, I don’t want anything thank you”
“So you aren’t interested in saving money?”
“No, that’s right, I’m not so you’ll have to go” You’ll have to go?! You dick!
“Do you work for your money sir?”
I beg your pardon? Yes I do Why are you answering these fucking questions?
“And do you work hard?”
Harder than you, you shit Yes Stop talking to him, hang up, stop being so polite!
“So you would be interested in saving your hard earned money?”
Ah, this’ll fuck up your patter No, erm, not really Ha ha, the upper hand comes my way!
“You don’t?!”
No, I er, I like wasting it! Why am I still here, I should be getting in the car and going to town, just hang up!
“I can give you line rental for £15 a month and 250 texts…”
Nope, not interested Why am I sounding like I have the upper hand, now I sound like a mental twat
“£1 a month”
He’s taking the piss out of me
“I can give it to you for £1 a month plus 250 texts a month and you could give the phone away”
No thanks I’m still not interested
“Ok sir, is there anyone else in the house I could speak to?”
He thinks I’m mental, he wants to speak to my carer! What a fucking arsehole. Hang up now!
No, they’re all out Just hang up!
“Will they be back soon”
He thinks I’m a danger to myself!! Yes, they’ve just gone to the shops No they haven’t, why are you lying!
“O k siiir. Thaank Yoou for yoour tiime”
Is he really talking slowly to me?
“………..”
He’s fucking hung up on me! The bastard! He thought I was a mentalist! He’s probably phoning the police and social services right now!
A few years ago, during one of those post pub deep and meaningful conversations, a friend posed the question.. well, slurred the question “Why do people yawn when they see other people yawn?”. Being a geek, a few days later when I remembered this question I looked it up. The best theory I found was an evolutionary answer. It is believed that yawning originated when Men were hunter-gatherers and used to track animals for food. When hunting in packs it was essential that all members of the pack work in synchronicity. This meant that when one member yawned, the other members of the group yawned too to that all members were taking in fresh oxygen to make them alert and prepared for the kill, as not to let the prey escape. And this theory is still relevant and in action today, although generally humans don’t tend to stalk and kill animals for their supper, you can still see herds and groups of men in Sainsburys’ and Tesco all yawning together!
Thinking about this randomly recently during a coffee break, I discovered the New Yawn! An instinctive action, that one person does and then you can witness it ripple around the room, just like a yawn does… What is it? Checking your mobile phone!! Many many times have I seen one person check their screen for a message then a few seconds later, another little fumble and a cursory glance to see if their are any calls or messages. Soon everyone in the room with a phone will have taken it out and checked it! Not just rooms, public transport too, bus queues, supermarket queues, pretty much anywhere that people gather there will be the New Yawn Effect!! It really is the 21st Century Yawn – ensuring that everyone is synchronised with everyone else!!
My first, kinda, official blog! I might very well post some notes in here from facebook or myspace to get the party started.
So, Christmas Eve then? It’s 9.30 pm and I’m pretty shattered and I have all the wrapping to get done. Not fantastically pleased with this situation I can assure you! There’s something about wrapping that seems like such a great idea until you actually start doing it. Then it’s just a fucking royal pain in the arse! Tape, scissors erm… Paper. Simple surely? But then it gets complicated when the gift is involved! My wife wraps presents like Father Christmas! They look awesome! My presents look like they were wrapped by an epileptic monkey on crack. Is it taught in school? The same day as when they were taken out of class for ‘a talk’? Or is it genetic, like being right?
Anyway. First blog done. Now for some angry wrapping with the reward of a mince pie, carrot and glass of milk! Must keep up the pretense!
