Ok, it is official that stress makes you fat and it’s worse if you are over sixty. I can definitely relate to that statement because despite my best efforts my body refuses to do what it is told or so it seems. I am not a happy dieter, I love to cook and I love eating out so I am probably my own worst enemy in truth.
Having been diagnosed Type 2 Diabetic I have made a huge effort to toe the dieting line but generally I hardly lose any weight unless I survive on a lettuce leaf for every meal. I know, that’s an exaggeration but it really does seem that way. I tried a really low carb diet for a week and lost four pounds but the following week I reverted to a more mixed but sensible diet because we were on holiday and I put on three pounds. I do think the first part of a severe eating regime causes a large fluid loss and looking on the bright side at least I didn’t put on four pounds or more.
I am now restricting sugars which isn’t difficult as I don’t have a really sweet tooth and I am keeping carbs down by reducing the amount of bread, potatoes, rice and pasta I eat which is difficult as I am a carboholic. Hopefully I will see a difference in weight by the end of the week. I am aware that exercise is just as important and I do swim as much as I can but do need to walk more. The LSO suggested getting the bicycle up and running and provided the photograph above which about says it all really. It’s certainly a reflection of how my body feels at the moment, in need of some attention.
The AP returns on Monday but I refuse to become stressed out about it. Somehow both myself and the LSO must survive all this and enjoy life as best we can. Being resentful brings only misery and that can become a habit too hard to break and I really do not want to go down that road. The LSO and I have always managed to laugh a lot which is such an important part of being well and staying healthy and we must not lose that facility no matter what happens. So how do we do this? Well, by a sheer determination to rise above this situation and to not be beaten into the ground.
I can hear the trumpets in the distance.
That must be a good sign.
Growing around an old apple tree in the orchard are these wonderful wild blackberries. They have made the most luscious jam which just begged for fresh homemade buttermilk scones and of course, clotted cream. I decided to make some despite the comment that would follow……..and it did.
My mother just cannot resist it and sure enough having thoroughly enjoyed the scone with jam and cream came the inevitable comment, “well these will put weight on”. the scones are tiny and featherlight and yes, if you ate a few with jam and clotted cream they certainly wouldn’t help a weight loss. I think the only answer is to live on dust!
But I cannot let this get me down. I have always gained so much pleasure from cooking and living here in the country I have a wonderful selection of produce to choose from especially during these summer months when we are surrounded by an abundance of good things. Unfortunately at the moment I cook when I am bored and being so trapped I am bored a great deal. In the beginning it was ok and life carried on to a point but as the months have passed we are being ground down with the sheer relentlessness of the timetable we now have to follow.
Well a week on and various attempts to try harder have failed miserably; not failed because anything was arranged badly just unforeseen situations that have caused some distress. Still I decided that I must persevere with lightening the atmosphere despite being under the weather and on antibiotics. It was a little like a suicide mission! I am now accused of speaking a different language to my difficult ageing parent who being deaf often gets things wrong and that was the result of an attempt to have a conversation.
Yesterday she has decided that vanity to the fore, (denied of course) that she needs to lose weight and that means smaller meals. I should add at this point that she is not even vaguely fat, that territory is mine and mine alone. My weight also causes problems because she is not allowed to talk about it but constantly finds sneaky ways of mentioning it. I am quite aware that I have a weight problem and part of that is caused by the stress of looking after her but that is another issue to be discussed later. Her meals are already small but apparently these cause bloat. I explained that it would be better to look at food content as that is more likely to cause bloat than the small quantities consumed. I was told that was nonsense. Unsuspecting and long suffering husband comes into the conversation by agreeing that food is usually the culprit. The response to this was an astonishing attack that “she was not going to speak to him as he always sides with her.” I mention the small quantity of carefully considered meals prepared at home that over the last 3 years have helped to keep her fit, well and active and now pre-diabetic and not diabetic because when we go out the meal of choice is nearly always fish in batter with chips. This doesn’t apparently cause bloat or put weight on. The conversation did not end well.
Well the atmosphere is not at all lightened and I am trying hard not to wish my life away.