I have a gorgeous pair of clog boots.
I bought them from Plumo last year. As with most clothes purchases, there was a web of reasoning around The Purchase:
- They were on sale, reduced from three figures to two. Always an incentive.
- I love clogs, after being the only person in Denmark under the age of 55 to wear them through the spring of 1993, while loafing around Københavns Universitet reading Livy and enjoying fun days including ‘let’s see if we can have a day where every meal consists of chocolate’ (we did – AND WE WEREN’T SICK!)).
- I wanted some shoes/boots I could pull on and off very easily as I trotted in and out of the house a thousand times a day putting children in the car/putting out bins/trying to stop DS2 from escaping down the road.
In general, they have been extremely succesful; they get lots of nice comments from other girlfriends (to DH’s bemusement (he probably preferring a boots concept involving thigh-high patent leather)), and they are super-comfortable, as long as you’re wearing thick socks.
They do NOT work if you’re trying to push a shouting toddler in a trolley round Waitrose in record time while the rest of the family wait in the car.
I discovered at the weekend that if you try to take a corner of a supermarket aisle at any speed with them, then the boot remains gripped to the floor, while your foot pivots IN THE BOOT. As a consequence, your body rotates and lurches after the trolley (which has momentum), but your foot remains trapped in the clog’s position. So as the trolley pulls you in an arc round the end of the aisle, you fall after it, tripping over your boots, which have taken on a will of their own. As we had to do a full shop, which involved going up and down almost every aisle, this was quite a traumatic experience, both for me, and for random others, such as the girl behind the deli meat counter who saw the trolley go left but me seem to hurtle straight towards her with a look of alarm on my face, and DS2 yelling (happily) HA HA HAAAAA.
AND the repeated friction has worn holes in the soles of my socks.
So there we are. Either take it slowly, or wear close-fitting sneakers. And to Waitrose and its shoppers, I apologise.
It was the boots.
So I am writing this EXTREMELY hungrily and grumpily, on the second fasting day of this week, having had today:
- 1 choc hobnob at about 11
- soup + sandwich at lunch
- 1 choc hobnob at about 4.
I forgot to take my multivitamin pill at lunch, the aim of which is to supplement the hobnobs, but I don’t think that would have made any difference to my mental state this evening. I know that using up about 30% of my calorie intake on chocolate biscuits is not ideal, but, hey, I’ve been in charge of 2 children under 4 (plus a sick DH lolling around the house), and it’s been pouring with rain, and tempers have been strained…
How’s it gone so far? Well on days like today I would chew off my right arm for a nutritious meal, plus chocolate, but I know it’s almost bedtime I and should just be able to stagger through until tomorrow morning as long as I’m horizontal and asleep. In weight-loss terms, it made a bit of a difference at the start, and slowly my average weight is still edging down. My hip/waist size shrunk a bit at the start, though still not enough to get me into the W-dress (which I’ve now bought!! da-daaa!! (another story)), but I’m going to start running and hula-hooping again and see if that makes a difference. Chart inserted..
Observations so far:
- Mondays and Thursdays seem the best fast days; I couldn’t do anything with just 1 day’s break in between.
- On non-fast days I’m finding myself a bit disappointed with the quality of food I’m shoving down. There’s a bit of a crisp craving that goes on, and then I think hoorah I can eat my weight in chocolate, and then I just feel a bit oily and have a Benecol. I’m going to try to ensure I eat some quality savoury stuff, and my meals are interesting.
- I cannot see myself sticking to a 600 calorie limit, as inputted on my iPhone, twice a week for the rest of my life… I would like to be free to finish the children’s jambalaya at 5.30pm, if I’m hungry, and they don’t want it. But I can see that days when maybe breakfast is late, or dinner’s skipped, would be fine, without any raging cataclysm occurring.
- It is HARD to fast when you’re at home, cooking and feeding children, and everyone’s getting cross. DH has a much easier time in the office, he says, as long as he keeps himself busy over lunch. This blog post was interrupted by a phonecall on a work matter, and suddenly my spirit improved (shows how bad today was, when talking about data analytics is a cheer-up), and 50mins had gone by without me uttering any sarcastic comments to DH or skulking around the kitchen picking up crumbs with my finger tip (“it’s so microscopic it can’t possibly have any calories”.)
So there we go. On to the next 3 weeks. Just hope my DNA is doing some good bloomin’ regeneration work.
Oh, another plus point – not eating in the evening does free up an enormous amount of time, and saves on washing up. Extraordinary!