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 seven: A 50/50 week
I started this week dreading my weigh-in. There was no excusing myself and no amount of smiles or gentle jokes with my leader was going to distract from the figure flashing on the screen. I set off to my meeting wearing the lightest dress I could find (trust me, it wasn’t much heavier than a sarong) and hoped for the best.
I really debated going to my class this week. I knew I’d strayed from my points and I wasn’t ready to fit the bill of the prodigal son. I still had half an Easter egg in the fridge. Still it was now or never, and as much as I wished it could be the latter, my dress was staring me in the face.
So I stood up on the weigh pad, sucked it in and waited. My heart sank when she handed me back my tracking card… I was up 2lbs.
Now I know this doesn’t sound like the end of the world, but for someone who has been painstakingly trying to lose weight for just over a month now, it was like a bit of salt on the wound. Those chocolate eggs, (and if I’m honest mountains of biscuits, crisps, wine…) had gone into my mouth and taken their rightful place somewhere around my hips.
My leader, who was sympathetic to my gain, asked what went wrong this week. Did I need to talk to her after the class? I didn’t know how to explain my previous week’s gorge-a-thon so took a seat next to Mary (ever the mammy with a pat on the hand and words of encouragement). Even though all I wanted was to plod on home, I knew better than to leave the class. I stayed for the full session and skipped out as soon as she gave us her motivation mantra for the week:
“Fridge pickers wear bigger knickers” – I’m not even joking with you.
Thing is, I learned about another victory in weight loss this week. The original reason I got behind this mission for The Dress – and it was actually handed to me. It was a compliment. (Ok, hear me out)
I’m not saying I never receive them, most women do. Chances are it’s the second thing that pops out of the mouth of your mam/sister/best friend whenever you catch up. They love your jacket, or notice that your hair looks nice. Always lovely to hear, and if you’re Irish, they’re met with an equally awkward, “Thanks! This old thing?” or, more often than not, “Penneys! €10!”
But people can be awkward to comment on you losing weight. They want to congratulate you, but if they’re not careful they can make a genuine attempt at flattery uncomfortable for everyone involved. We ALL had the elderly relative who was never shy of speaking her mind.(Why is it always a woman?) Like how when I was nine I was told over the Christmas dinner that it was crazy I was my mother’s daughter, since I had such ‘child-bearing’ hips. (Insulting now, but at nine years old I was horrified)
And then this week, I was proven wrong. I was complimented on my weight loss, and I could see they really meant it.
The first person to notice the drop in dress size and really comment on it was actually a man. Yep – my boyfriend. We’re currently in a long-distance relationship, and I took a trip over to England to see him during the Easter break. It was the first time I’d seen him in seven weeks, and I hadn’t told him I was on the Dress Mission. He hadn’t seen me since BD. (Before Dress)
He picked me up from the train station and gave me the usual welcoming hug and kiss, before we went for a walk to catch-up. It was only over lunch that he gently asked me had I lost weight. (He’s smart enough to realise I can be sensitive around the topic)
I want to point out this boy can take days to realise I’ve had a hair cut, so for him to recognise some of the puppy fat evaporating made me blush.
“You look great, really, and you can really see it. You look beautiful.”
Needless to say I was beaming. The trip also included a shopping spree where I raided my bank cards and picked up a couple of tops, and dresses for my in-between stage. I can’t fit into The Dress, but the momos I’ve been rocking for the last couple of months are thankfully too big now. I was in my element, and happily faced the baggage wars of carry-on luggage with Ryanair to protect my size-12 wardrobe bursting from the seams of my case.
The second victory was a personal realisation… that I’m actually changing my lifestyle choices. After a couple of late evenings this week, I came home to realise my fridge was empty. Now Liz BD would have happily dialled for her Chinese and actually driven out to collect it (’cause God knows I wouldn’t be waiting for the 30 minute drop-off), but this was a new Liz. I did pick up my keys, but I went to a 24-hour supermarket and bought in some eggs, vegetables and salad and made an omlette.
I’m not exactly going to be on Masterchef anytime soon, but the moment really stood out for me.
I know I’m 2lbs up, and I know that puts some pressure on me for next week’s target. Especially if I want to hit my dress deadline. But I’m also realising that this isn’t going to happen overnight, and I’ve started learning the value of eating right, taking regular exercise and having a target.
I had to pull €20 out of my jeans collection. Next week I’m determined to put €40 back in.
This week’s stats go a little something like this –
Height: 5ft 8
Starting Weight: 174 lbs
Current Weight: 166.5 lbs
Weight Loss To Date: 8.5 lb (That stung a little)
Goal: 148 lbs
Feeling: Annoyed at myself, but will be back on track
The Dress in Question:
Photo via Zara
