Dieting. 5.

really not my fault

Just a quick update as I am rather full of meat and my eyes are slowly closing.

We took the kids to a comedy club thingamajig tonight as it is my eldest boys birthday next week, and they took a couple of friends with them.  The evening was pleasant enough, and afterwards we thought we would take them all for dinner to TGI Fridays.

I was convinced that I was in a good place upon entering, and despite the kids all ordering ribs, which I am rather partial to, I asked for the duck salad.  Duck salad right!  That is actually a thing.  Salad.  With Duck.  Whatever next.

Anyway, so there I am feeling great about the choice I just made, when the waitress heads back over.  They are all out of Duck Salad.

I do wonder whether they ever actually had any you know.  It really does not sound like something you should be making.  Salad with duck.  I think it is on there as a joke and they are convinced that nobody will ever take it seriously enough to order it.

I don’t really know how it happened, I think maybe I felt pressured into a quick decision as she was stood waiting for my  revised order, but I just blurted out ribs and before I know it I am licking Jack Daniels sauce from my fingers and picking succulent pig from my teeth.

I had done rather well all day up to that point too.

Oh well, tomorrow is another day.  Sleep well, I certainly will.

P.S. I ate the chips too.

 

Dieting. 4.

A piece in which I mention sweaty bottoms quite a lot.

So yesterday was somewhat more difficult given that I had a full day work event followed by Christmas Dinner and drinks.  But, I came away not completely disappointed in myself – quite surprisingly.

I did not indulge in any of the huge pile of biscuits and chocolates that were available on arrival which I thought was a real victory given that in the past I would have been the one that opened them and got stuck in first.

I cannot say the same of big fat Simon though, he rumbled into the room, reached across the table exposing his hairy arse crack, proclaimed “Ooh biscuits” and tucked in.  Perhaps that’s the key to appetite suppression.  Every time you’re tempted to eat squirty cream straight from the can you have to look at a picture of a large man’s hairy toilet equipment.

At lunchtime I ate only the same as a normal person, avoiding the cream cakes and sticking to a couple of sandwiches and the treat of a frightfully small piece flap jack for pudding.  I did get a queer look from a couple of people when I was spotted eating a fruit kebab thing and a couple of carrot sticks and some hummus.  Rather than admitting to being on a diet I explained that I was saving myself for the Christmas dinner later on.

All I really wanted to do was smash cream buns into my face in the toilet where no one could judge me.

Dinner was ordered months ago so there was not much I could do and I had a lovely pumpkin soup starter.  I seem to have then ordered a burger followed by Christmas pudding.  I remembered some of the encouragement I have received on here and decided to not eat the chips (fries).  This would have worked had they cleared the table sooner, but they took a while so by the time they did I had eaten half.  But not eating half is something I would never have done before.  I would have eaten all of mine and then coveted other peoples chips.  Pretty sure the bible has strong views on such things.  As good as I felt about it I could think of nothing else when I got home and had real regret over not eating them.

So all in all a way better day than I had expected.

This afternoon I am thinking of popping to the hypnotist to see whether they can help me get the image of big Simon’s dirty parts out of my head.

Have a good weekend!

Dieting. 3.

Let’s give it another go eh

Okay so I’m going to double up on the posts on this to get caught up so I can post daily on the matter if I so choose.

2 days in and the worse thing I have put into my mouth was a cheeky spoonful of that chicken pie I wrote about last time which my eldest had for his tea.  That’s not bad because a lot of you have done a damn site worse.

Yes you.  You know who you are.  Don’t make me add a winky face to make my point.

There have been natural yogurts, salads, omelettes and all manner of things that seemed in a relatively unprocessed form.  Novel I know.  I even resisted the work Christmas Dinner in the canteen today and had a salad box instead.

The salad itself was fine and I felt fairly full afterwards.  I was though really confused about something called QUINOA.

What the bloody hell is that.  As if couscous isn’t bad enough with its bland offensiveness they went and slipped this stuff in there.  I thought it looked okay, and hoped perhaps it might be a little spicy.  It wasn’t.

Four hours later I am still finding bits of it in my mouth and in my clothes as I was forced to try spit it out and got it all over myself.  What the hell is it?  It managed to absorb all the moisture in my mouth and left me really rather parched indeed.

I’m assuming none of you have eaten it as you all seem quite happy types.

Anyway, it was just a quickie tonight.  I think I am going to bed – I need to hydrate and get my strength up because it is the official Christmas Dinner tomorrow and I am assured there is no quinoa on the menu.

x

 

Dieting. 2.

Let’s give it another go eh

Okay, so I posted about my intentions with regards to weight loss and one day in it went okay.  I had more fruit than I normally would, I had a chicken Caesar wrap for lunch and for dinner pilchards on toast.   There was plenty of water and I had a small bag of nuts and seeds because I apparently need to get more good cholesterol in me.

So that’s all very positive.  I will admit though I so wanted to eat that delicious looking chicken pie sat looking at me whenever I open the fridge.  It just screams “eat me you fat bastard, ram me into your hungry hole right now and to hell with your high blood pressure because you know I am going to taste so damned good.”

Pies are awful creatures they really are.  I was once set upon by two sausage and tomato pies and a Cornish pasty and it took all my efforts to fight them off and devour them (all in self-defence I might add).

Aah good times.

Oh and how hard I had to resist buying a trifle when I popped to the shops.  If I had bought it I know for a fact that I would have found myself eating it wearing only my underpants stood in front of the fridge at 3am, waking with a custard moustache and wondered why I wasn’t in the mood for breakfast.

Custard moustache…ha.  Sounds like a sex act.

“Yeah man I took her back to my place and she gave me a custard moustache…”

Anyway, the struggle is real trust me.

But I didn’t, instead I did the things I know I need to do and have also started today with porridge.  I sexed it up with a few raisins and a sprinkling of coconut.  Rock and roll baby!

Wonder if I can now get into those jeans I haven’t been able to squeeze into for years.  It has been an entire day after all.

Dieting. 1.

Let’s give it another go eh

So it turns out that after posting about dieting here and here I did very little about the matter.   There were a few apples and some lighter lunchtime options enjoyed at work when I set out but there were also loose handfuls of quality street chocolates and overflowing plates of pie and mash washed down with mince pies and stollen.

Sadly it turns out a salad on a Tuesday will not in any way make up for a McDonalds Big Tasty on a Wednesday.  And yes, I went large.

In some ways that is almost enough to convert me from my atheist ways.  Only a force of pure evil would make a mouth watering burger total 1300 calories and a light ham salad with a splash of vinaigrette a mere 250.  If such evil exists then surely there is a balance of goodness out there somewhere.

Anyway I am thinking that if I write about it a little more then perhaps that will make me feel somewhat more accountable.   Or maybe a lot more.  I know you will all be frightfully encouraging too.

So keep an eye out for how it goes, might be fun.

Some Saturday night limericks

A couple of limericks about adultery, one about a man with a small penis and one about middle aged spread.

 

Just a couple more limericks.  Been rather tied up back end of this week and I went to the pub last night so all I have managed over the last few days are the limericks I scribble in my notebook when I am on a conference call of some description at work…

 

A bank robber from Toremelinos

stole to get cash for his penis

to enlarge was his wish

but the products are pish

now he’s locked up in jail with men, heinous

 

‘My Friend’ watches far too much telly

middle aged, double chins and round belly

legs and arms got quite thick

now he can’t see his dick

and his man boobs they jiggle like jelly

 

A husband one day proclaimed dead

seems his wife shot him right through the head

on his phone saw a text

“Banged your sister, you’re next!”

really made quite a mess of the bed

 

Farmers wife with a craving for men

got caught cheating again and again

hub quite angry threw fits

then he chopped her to bits

fed her parts to the pigs in his pen

On still being fat

A piece on being made up of one quarter Kentucky fried chicken and three quarters middle aged dad.

I wrote here, some while ago, on the matter of being fat and being on a diet.  That didn’t last though because I have a real love of all things delicious and a self destructive streak that simply will not listen no matter how tight my trousers may be or how jiggly my man bosoms.

I did though do something I have been putting off for a while and go for a full medical check up recently.  The sort you pay a lot for and they issue you with a terrifying report afterwards which has charts in it that prove that you’re lucky to be alive and that you are made up of one quarter Kentucky Fried Chicken.  Probably my thighs.  They are quite succulent.

So, it was with some trepidation that I headed to Leeds and signed in, nervous about what was to follow but relieved in a way that I had done something positive.  I am getting on after all, I am 46 this year.

Now I don’t smoke, and drink only occasionally, but I don’t eat well at all and get far too little exercise.  By too little I mean pretty much none –  unless you count running back upstairs from the kitchen late at night because the blinds are up and the neighbours can probably see me eating handfuls of wafer thin ham straight from the fridge in my pants.

They ran a full battery of tests on all of my major bits and pieces, took blood and other bodily fluids to pore over and even tested my hearing.  I’m a bit deaf on the wife side apparently.

There was a not wholly unpleasant episode involving lubricant and the snap of a rubber glove which men of a particular age are subjected to and the caress of an educated hand to ensure that all was ship shape in the underpants department.

How did it work out?

Well turns out It could have been a lot worse though I hope very much it was the kick up my full bottom that I needed.  Almost everything came back better than I hoped though I apparently need to eat more nuts, oily fish and avocado.  Easy enough I guess.  The two areas for concern were my weight (which I did not need to pay someone £300 to tell me – I do have a mirror) and my blood pressure.  They’re obviously linked but it did result in me having to go on medication as it was worryingly high.

I felt rather chastened I will admit,

So what now?  Well a few weeks in on the meds and I feel noticeably better and I seem to almost have my eating under control.  Its surprising what you are capable of when you the ramifications are laid out for you by someone with a certificate on his wall that entitles him to caress your testicles.

I’ll let you know how I get on.