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LighterLife Diary Days 1-7
See also: LighterLife Introduction
Plus: LighterLife Weeks 2-36
Then: Road to Management
And: Packsman Returns
Week One; Day One (23st 10lbs; 150.8kg)
I try not to think about toast or meltingly tender lamb chops as I make a chart to keep tally of my water intake. I start with two pints of tap, and then the nice man from Tesco.com arrives with many flagons of Buxton Spring and some cheap fizzy, plus toilet paper and Kenco Really Rich granules. One of the 5ltr Buxtons goes into the fridge.
I like the taste of plain water, so it’s not a hardship to keep on drinking. But I’m getting a little bit tired of the sight of the loo, which I seem to be visiting rather regularly. I don’t mind, but I am wondering if it’s all avoiding the system and just rushing straight through me on some kind of internal Buxton Bypass. It’s an irrational fear, I know, but this is a strange thing to be doing, after so many years of determined eating.
I feel full, but it’s what I think of as lunchtime, so I tear open a mushroom pack. It’s weak, but the flavour isn’t bad. I must learn to make these packs with less than the full 10 fluid ounces.
I enter a danger zone as I sit down to a bit of telly during what used to be lunchtime. But water will be good for me, so it has to do.
The afternoon is less liquid than the morning, as I get stuck into some work. I try the caramel shake at 3.30, and it’s good. But there’s an appointment at the surgery at 4.30pm. I go to the loo before getting ready to go out, and go again just before leaving the house. I fear that I shall be taken short during the car ride, which should be about 10 minutes, but with late afternoon traffic and roadworks, could take up to 40 minutes, judging by last week’s experience. So I find another route, using backstreets, and this works well. I’m at the surgery car park in twenty minutes, and rush inside to use the loo.
I see the nurse (she’s just replacing a dressing on a weeping blister), and go to the loo on the way out of the surgery.
Once home again, I’m back in the fridge, replenishing my glass. I watch a bit of telly, sipping water and vanilla shake. I like the taste, and think this one will be nice as a mousse or with some coffee in it.
I spend the evening out in a meeting where I can’t drink but can slip off to the loo, which I do several times. I felt a pang during the evening, and complained about it to someone who knows the score, and they sympathised without suggesting a kebab. However, the delicious thought of a chicken kebab with large chips and hot sauce was on my mind all the way home. I distract myself with a complicated radio discussion show. At 10 I’m home again, with pints 7 & 8, plus a Thai Spice drink, which is really good.
I wake suddenly, still in the chair, with the last pint of water unfinished. I drain the glass and go to bed, feeling light-headed to some extent, wondering if this is what a hypoglycaemic attack feels like, but soon I lie down and welcome sleep. At least I don’t have to drink while I’m asleep.
Should I have fitted a rubber blanket? I count pints of water jumping over a gate, but that doesn’t work, so I roll over and go to sleep.
Difficult night, it has to be said, and there is content in the lower body slackness which disturbs me. Going back to bed, I find sleep not coming easily.
I feel good as I awake, and sit down at the computer and handle with great wisdom and grace an invitation to a meal with some friends. I suggest we meet in a pub instead. Will have to see how that goes. I expect they’ll be supportive.
There’s an e-mail from a work colleague who rejoices that she lost 20lbs in seven months with a GI diet. I think to myself ‘Cheers for the sentiment, but I intend to lose lots more lots more quickly.’ I reply courteously.
Move into Buxton Country with the first two pints of cold water, plus a veg soup and a cup of coffee. A friend calls to encourage me. He feels better since he started on HerbalLife. Great! But I don’t think he’s understood the psychological difference between two milk shakes with flavourings plus a meal (which he has) and four nutrition packs and that’s all (which I’m facing). I reckon there’s a world of difference, but I accept the encouragement and the caring call.
I get on with work, sipping, refilling, throughputting. A friend calls to check I’m okay, and she kindly offers to call me when they’ve finished eating so I can drop by at about 9pm with no danger of temptation. I tell her I could sit in the car and read until they call, which would be great.
I’ve got a pop-in at 5.30pm with Mark, so I shall have to plan my peeing to cope with the journey across town. It’s 4pm now, and I’ve only done 3 and a half pints. Dramatically behind schedule. But I’ve got a pack in hand, so to speak. Is that good? Going to exchange my Raspberrys for Vanilla, and my Mushroom for Thai Spice.
Really missing sugar-free gum, especially when driving.
Just noticed some cheese and the margarine in the fridge, and found a large packet of tortilla chips in the cupboard. Serves me right for opening the cupboard, I suppose. Will take those to Lynn’s tonight, along with a lovely bottle of wine which sang to me this afternoon. ‘Drink me, enjoy the warm notes of loganberry and woody finish, with a fah-la-la’ it sang. I am better off without it in the house. I am made of iron. Aren’t fingernails tasty? Probably not allowed, but I have a chew anyway. Haven’t done that for over a decade. Oh blimey; is this the slippery slope?
The pop-in is a bit good, with a 5pound loss in two days! Not in ketosis yet, but swap the raspberry for some Thai spice.
Takes a long time to get home, which is lavatorially complex. But more water and some thick chocolate shake during Eastenders.
Then I drive over to Neil & Lynn’s and sit in the car outside until I get the call to say they’ve cleared away the plates. I then go inside, hand over my unwanted items and join in the conversation and laughter.
Home again with just two pints of Buxton’s finest to go, plus the reward of Thai Spice. Feeling a bit weak once I parked the car, and vision slightly patchy as I swallow the Spicey drink with plenty of water. Troublesome moments arrive in the guise of adverts for chicken tikka massalla and some chance comment about a kebab.
I briefly consider toast, dismiss the thought and then go to bed. Just seven pints, then. But by my reckoning, seven pints equals four litres (a litre of water’s a pint and three quarters). That’ll do. Forgive me, but no stool, just smelly slop.
Day three (23st 5lbs; 148kg)
Another day, another flagon. Beginning to wonder if I’ll ever use plates or cutlery again, and why the Good Lord gave me teeth.
Worked all morning, drinking like a person keen to go into Ketosis. Had a veg soup at about 2, having worked through ‘lunch’. Notice those inverted commas? I’m learning. Seriously considered how nice the soup would be with some crusty brown toast, but took the thought captive and went back to work.
I’ve discovered that mixing fizzy water with the still makes an acceptable combination.
Worked until about four, when hunger pangs started. Had a choc shake with a spoonful of coffee granules stirred in, which was good. Made a bit of a blunder: got involved in what I was working on and suddenly realised I hadn’t swallowed all the shake within the recommended 15 minutes. Downed the rest of the shake in the hope it’ll do some good.
Feeling a little trembly, but then that may be nerves for the rehearsal I am involved in tonight.
Five pints and counting. Had a painkiller for my legs, and diabetic medication for all of me. Hope hypo stays away. I know there’ll be pressure tonight on the way home, past the Chinese shop and the kebab house and the pizza parlour… But the good news is that I’ll probably be busting for the loo, so I won’t be able to divert. Be strong, my bladder, and my heart!
10pm. Oh yes, at the end of the rehearsal, I remembered too late to go to the loo, and very nearly had an accident. But home again, facing a ‘two packs and five pints so far’ score sheet, I actually felt thirsty! So I enjoyed the first pint of water, poured myself another and settled down to a double whammy of chicken soup followed by another pint and managed eight today.
It’s hard to believe that this is already day four. I was expecting to be faint with hunger, fed up, miserable, excruciatingly bored and resentful of everything LighterLife. But I woke feeling more refreshed from sleep than I have for a while, and made a coffee and a pint of water without really thinking about it.
It’s Saturday - traditionally the hardest day for the new LLer, and habitually for me a day with a decent lunch, a sandwich mid-afternoon and then a Chinese during X-Factor.
I feel on the edge of a hypo attack most of the time now: lightheaded, a little trembly, unaccountable thirst and sudden-onset dashes to the loo. Definitely over-medicating.
Pop-in news is great: 5 more pounds off!
Good time at the rehearsal this afternoon, but it gets tricky when the producer orders pizza and includes me. I say ‘no thanks’ but then it arrives and smells great and everyone lathers in. I find somewhere else to be, and then mix up a cold vanilla, which is okay.
The evening goes well, and I get home without too much longing for a sensible supper. Chicken soup followed by hot chocolate with four pints of water. Strange way to behave just before bed, but no options.
Day five (23st; 146kg)
Woke up feeling good this morning. Had a surprisingly undisturbed night.
Will try to spread my water intake through the day today. I want to go to church this evening, but that shouldn’t be too long an interruption to my plan.
Have started to think about clothes. It’s a bit previous, I know, but not as previous as I’ve been in the past; imagining choosing and wearing stylish or fashionable clothes without any kind of plan of how I would arrive at a sensible size. But today I feel like the means to the end is in sight. Stay on the LL programme as long as I can, and lose as much as possible. So long as I’m healthily losing weight, what’s in a kebab?
Long old Sunday with no lunch. EastEnders was enjoyable. Feeling a bit soggy by the time I went off to church, which was good. Had to rush into the disabled toilet during the notices, though.
A mate called and we went to the Badger’s Watch. A bit of a blunder, as we often used to come here for scampi and chips and extra chips, and sitting there with just a mineral water was less exciting.
Had a hot chocolate and went to bed feeling righteous but not as stuffed as I would have liked.
Been thinking about clothes again, imagining being able to buy clothes in the high street instead of having to mail order the Fat Boy Shop. How nice that would be.
Still concerned I’m overmedicating, as my eyes are patchy and my head light. Rang LL for medical advice and they advised me to see my GP, which was predicable but probably wise. Booked appointment.
Did well this morning - five pints plus a veg soup. Visited parents and saw my older, successful, slimmer brother this afternoon. All the conversations were about food, by accident, but it was okay. I drank two pints of tap, and then back home enjoyed a Thai spice and three more pints.
End of the day came and I was two packs light, so I had a caramel followed by a vanilla. Nine pints of water today. Feeling not too clever, but went to bed to see if I slept.
Not the best night, but some sleep. Woke up thinking about peanuts and pancake rolls; crunchy stuff, salty stuff. Hope these cereal bars or whatever they are turn out to be the good news they’ve been talked up to be. And the water flavourings will be welcome, too, for a change (although the Buxton isn’t a problem). Discovered there’s a limit on what you can order through Tesco.com: no more than 10 flagons. That’ll be plenty for the next couple of weeks, I guess. I thought I might try to cut down on delivery charges by getting chummo to carry 15 of the little blighters up the stairs to my flat, but the system has a limit built in. Probably to stop shopkeepers from having their stock delivered cheaply.
There's more: click here for weeks 2-36