It’s started - Penny (my housemate) and I have decided "enough fat bastards". We moan that we cant fit into our clothes, that our belts are too tight and that we simply are sick of being overweight.
The challenge has started and I am going to subject you to it. You can read about the journey, might help you to sleep at night or could simply bore you to tears ... but while that is happening, we will be shedding pounds quicker than Posh Beckham at a cocktail party.
We started on the weekend but beer and football stood in my way and visitors from interstate really screwed up Penny's start as well, so Monday we started in earnest.
We have taken bread, processed white food, rice, pasta, pastry, nuts, coffee, soft drinks, and most importantly and the hardest thing to give up, is my beloved gift of Bacchus, wine. For someone who works with wine and is ever so fond of a drink, to give this up has been a challenge - it is not forever of course but until the pounds start disappearing, we will be diligent.
We are grumpy, we are cranky and we are waiting for ketosis to kick in so our bodies are using some stored business instead of us stuffing them like silos with food that our bodies don’t need as much of.
Why now? Who knows, apart that from looking at photos and bemoaning the tightness of some of my clothing, its time to start looking after the temple.
Giving up food that one loves is a challenge of enormous proportions. As soul diva Aretha Franklin has said “I think the hardest thing is losing weight. That's the hardest thing more than anything else.” Another quote I found, and I don’t know from who it comes, is “The older you get, the tougher it is to lose weight because by then, your body and your fat are really good friends”. This makes much more sense to me, but I am determined and Penny is as well.
The hard thing is motivation, and we are good for one another. As I sneak to the pantry looking for a sweet biscuit, Penny reminds me that I shouldn’t be. As she craves diet cola or something sweet, I play the voice in her head and remind her that there is an outcome here that will be good for us. The strange thing is that I normally don’t eat sweet biscuits.
I want to be healthier rather than being thin. I couldn’t really give a fig for being thin as I will obsess. But I want to be healthier. I am at an age where this needs to be considered now. Not in 5 years, but now. And as my search for a mate... a penguin... continues, I need to be in my best emotional, mental and physical state to be ready.
I also want to wear clothes as they should be worn, rather than buying things with X in the size. I don’t need to be a small or a medium – I am too ‘big boned’ for that.
So the journey will continue, and to quote Winston Churchill – ‘It will be long, and hard, and there will be no withdrawals’ . Wish us luck.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
I am a food porn addict
I have to stop my obsession with cooking shows on television. I recently subscribed to that nonsense of paying for television just so I could have my food porn. I blame Matt Preston, as I do for a number of things, and Pete Evans, who I can never be cross at. (Must remind him he is taking me fishing).
Food porn is an interesting thing – people find me a little odd, given that I can happily watch Nigella massage a headless dead featherless chicken near to orgasm, that Jamie can lift my skirt just from the fact that he will cook something a bit offally, and every time Heston Blumenthal comes on to the box, I am stiff in the undies.
My obsession for food porn needs to be dealt with and I am off to my FP group. Hello, my name is Pete and I am a food porn addict.
It is funny using food and porn in the same sentence, given the orgy of indulgence that was Easter. People munching chocolate until their faces and leggings expanded beyond belief, and others pretending that they don’t care for Easter but are secreting away bilbys and Lindt rabbits to eat when the other half is at work or on the loo.
There is a point... Masterchef 2 is about to begin on the box. 50 hopeful Julie Goodwins, or Poh Ling Yeows are lining up to see if they, as ever the bridesmaids must in reality TV, win the second series. (2 lindt bunnies to anyone who remembers the winners of Big Brother 2 or the Biggest Loser 2). Not enough guts to enter the first one, but seeing the success of those contestants from series 1 has allowed them to gather the gumption to have a go now. Good for them and C list celebrity invites I say.
There will be 14 Vics and 14 NSW’s among the many and no doubt, the rivalry will continue through this series. My money is on a young male Victorian (the antithesis of last years winner.)
Entries have been called for Junior Masterchef, and of course we saw super sexy swimmer Eamon Sullivan take home the gong for the celebrity show last year. All I need now is Masterchef up late, Masterchef uncut and Masterchef Survivor. That should cure my aforementioned addiction to food porn.
I was a recent viewer of My Kitchen Rules. I was blogging for a while, annoyed at the sniping queen from Adelaide, loving eventual winners, Veronica and Shadi, and mourning that the title wasn’t taken by Victorians - are they/are they not Clint and Noah. The title should have gone to a Vic couple as we simply have the best food in the world – parochial much?
What did annoy me is that Pete Evans became a sanitised version of himself, and Manu, whilst shedding pounds by the dozen, was allowed to shine. Stand by for the book, the inevitable advertising of paper towels and perhaps a mixed tape not unlike Mr Prestons offering following Masterchef 1.
Matt is up for a Logie award in a few weeks and so is the show. I think this says something about a need for good food on the television to keep us from all becoming fat bastards. The Biggest Loser is there to help we over indulgent once we have cooked and eaten everything in sight. Masterchef is there to inspire us to cook well, and with fresh seasonal produce and it has done that. It broke all sorts of ratings records and has boys and girls cooking croquembouche and ceviche when they could never as much as spelled them.
I love that there is food porn on the tele – I love that Heston and Nigella and Jamie and all of those cooking types are inspiring people to cook and eat, and I love that the bar is being set higher and higher every time I go to some one else’s house to dine.
My name is Pete and I am a food porn addict ...... and I am more than happy to remain so.
Food porn is an interesting thing – people find me a little odd, given that I can happily watch Nigella massage a headless dead featherless chicken near to orgasm, that Jamie can lift my skirt just from the fact that he will cook something a bit offally, and every time Heston Blumenthal comes on to the box, I am stiff in the undies.
My obsession for food porn needs to be dealt with and I am off to my FP group. Hello, my name is Pete and I am a food porn addict.
It is funny using food and porn in the same sentence, given the orgy of indulgence that was Easter. People munching chocolate until their faces and leggings expanded beyond belief, and others pretending that they don’t care for Easter but are secreting away bilbys and Lindt rabbits to eat when the other half is at work or on the loo.
There is a point... Masterchef 2 is about to begin on the box. 50 hopeful Julie Goodwins, or Poh Ling Yeows are lining up to see if they, as ever the bridesmaids must in reality TV, win the second series. (2 lindt bunnies to anyone who remembers the winners of Big Brother 2 or the Biggest Loser 2). Not enough guts to enter the first one, but seeing the success of those contestants from series 1 has allowed them to gather the gumption to have a go now. Good for them and C list celebrity invites I say.
There will be 14 Vics and 14 NSW’s among the many and no doubt, the rivalry will continue through this series. My money is on a young male Victorian (the antithesis of last years winner.)
Entries have been called for Junior Masterchef, and of course we saw super sexy swimmer Eamon Sullivan take home the gong for the celebrity show last year. All I need now is Masterchef up late, Masterchef uncut and Masterchef Survivor. That should cure my aforementioned addiction to food porn.
I was a recent viewer of My Kitchen Rules. I was blogging for a while, annoyed at the sniping queen from Adelaide, loving eventual winners, Veronica and Shadi, and mourning that the title wasn’t taken by Victorians - are they/are they not Clint and Noah. The title should have gone to a Vic couple as we simply have the best food in the world – parochial much?
What did annoy me is that Pete Evans became a sanitised version of himself, and Manu, whilst shedding pounds by the dozen, was allowed to shine. Stand by for the book, the inevitable advertising of paper towels and perhaps a mixed tape not unlike Mr Prestons offering following Masterchef 1.
Matt is up for a Logie award in a few weeks and so is the show. I think this says something about a need for good food on the television to keep us from all becoming fat bastards. The Biggest Loser is there to help we over indulgent once we have cooked and eaten everything in sight. Masterchef is there to inspire us to cook well, and with fresh seasonal produce and it has done that. It broke all sorts of ratings records and has boys and girls cooking croquembouche and ceviche when they could never as much as spelled them.
I love that there is food porn on the tele – I love that Heston and Nigella and Jamie and all of those cooking types are inspiring people to cook and eat, and I love that the bar is being set higher and higher every time I go to some one else’s house to dine.
My name is Pete and I am a food porn addict ...... and I am more than happy to remain so.
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