Food for March

I know it doesn't look like it when you look out the window, but the calendar can't be wrong. It's March. I have spent the last weekend congratulating myself on surviving another UK winter, right before Monday arrived and I went to pick my boys up from school and promptly got caught in the biggest hailstorm we had all winter on the one day we were supposed to go check out some houses for our "how does it feel to live in a proper house" research project instead of going straight home. But if you ignore this freak-storm that lasted exactly from five minutes after I left home to five minutes before I got back, as most storms tend to do, you could look around and quietly whisper - it's beginning to look a lot like spring.

Trying to get out of school

And do you know what spring brings with it, other than flowers and sunshine and smiles? Food. Spring is, without a doubt, the season to be eating. It raises two problems - the first being that I still have 3 kilos to lose because unfortunately February was less than a stellar month in all areas of life, so it will come as no surprise to learn that what I thought of as a less than ambitious target of loosing 8 kilos and exercising 4 times a week was in fact too ambitious. The other problem is that spring is what comes before summer. And summer is the season to be showing off your diet's results. Well, the solution here is easy and clear to all - we live in the UK, we can always wear a coat under the pretence that "a summer coat is so in this year". And until we move to the suburbs were people actually have dress codes (or so I hear), we can always wear whatever we want under the label of eccentric rather then just plain weird.

Truth is I planned to get right back on the diet-horse on Monday, it's just that I didn't have a set Monday in mind and so I found myself last Wednesday when it became apparent that Monday has already passed, making an apple crumble. Apple crumble is the best cake ever, because it's a guilt free cake - after all, it is mostly apples. If you just ignore the sugar, flour and butter of course. But why would we want to be so petty? But then came the text message from school - we have moved year 4's cake sell to this Friday. Please bring your cakes on Friday morning. Ha, I thought to myself, here is my chance to get out of making a cake for school. I hate doing anything just because I have to, and baking is no different, but Ron looked at me like I ran over his puppy and told me he promised the whole school I will bake them cupcakes. 

I tried explaining that I don't have time on Thursday, I tried explaining that I don't have the ingredients needed for 40 cupcakes just lying around the house, I tried blaming it on the school. We all know what happened next don't we? I got him to compromise on a cake. Now that raised another dilemma - if you bake a chocolate cake for school, are you supposed to not bake one for yourself too? After all, how will you know if it's any good? And also it was my mum's birthday on Sunday (happy birthday mum!). And the fact that we live in different countries should not mean we don't deserve to enjoy some birthday cake. Yes, I baked two chocolate cakes, with chocolate icing, and sprinkles on top. 

It was the best decision ever, as I don't even dare trying to buy anything in the school bake sale with all the people fighting there for every cake, and Yon, who lives for chocolate cake, was devastated when he discovered that the cake is going to school and not all intended for him to eat.

Apparently, and not that I'm bragging or anything, my cake was the first one sold out, and it went for the highest price per slice :)

Cakes on their way to school

But that is not enough, because on Friday I decided it is high time to get some Jewish food supplies. I go to Golders Green about every three months to get some real hummus, pittas (don't get me started on what goes for pitta bread around here), wine and sweets. So we had more cakes. With chocolate. I am just thankful that Yon is even a bigger chocolate crazy than me. Makes me look so much saner when he runs around the house yelling "chocolate. My precious..."  (he does an excellent Gollum). 

Yon really likes pancakes

And then somehow we got to today, Tuesday, and though I told myself again, that I will get back on the diet-horse on Monday, we somehow stumbled upon Pancake Day. And you know I am not one to give up a good excuse to celebrate a holiday, regardless of its relation to me, if it has good food. Right after Pancake Day we have Purim, which you don't know about unless you are Jewish and why would you want to be Jewish? There really aren't a lot of reasons, but Purim is the main one. It is, after all, the candy holiday. Very diet fitting.

Purim food

After that Ron and I always celebrate St. Patrick's Day, for one reason alone - we get to eat mint-chocolate. Hidai doesn't like it and he always looks at us funny when we eat it, so I don't get to eat it a lot. Why on St. Patrick's Day you ask? The answer should be obvious really, because it has a green wrapping of course. And green is the colour of St. Patrick's Day. I expected you to know that.

That is followed by Mother's Day, or as I like to call it - Only Mummy Gets The Good Chocolate Day. After all, nothing says we love you mummy more than not eating my fancy chocolate, right?

Is it flowers or is it really.... You guessed it ;)

Hey, it's not my fault. I wanted to diet, I wanted to exercise. It's not my fault I opened the mailbox and discovered a box of chocolate from Hotel Chocolate last week.

At that point I decided to look at it as fate's way of saying - lose the diet, embrace the spring!

I hope you enjoyed reading the post :) I would really appreciate two minutes of your time and a vote for Best Writer (and best blog if you are so inclined) at the MAD blog awards -
Just press the photo and copy in my URL - http://londondegani.blogspot.co.uk
Thank you very much!

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Slippery slope time

I am sure Friday has not been the same this last two weeks without my constant whining about Weight-Watchers and dieting. I know, I told myself the same thing, it's not really Friday without some  chocolate reminiscing. Unfortunately I had been extremely ill for those two Fridays I missed, but there really is no need to feel sorry for me, because other than the fact that I managed to watch each and every TV episode I have ever recorded or downloaded or queued or whatever, I have managed to watch two whole shows I have never watched before (every episode from the first to the last series), I have also managed to bore myself out of my mind and so did the unthinkable - I knitted. I know, everyone around here also found it hilarious, but I did. It's not the first time I tried knitting, but a rare combination of two left hands, no eye-hand co-ordination whatsoever and a distinct lack of artsy genes have resulted in a not bad collection of needles and yarn but not even one real finished product. This time around however I was really determined, and also starting to feel like I am loosing my mind due to TV overload, and I knitted one heart (not because of Valentines, because it's easy), one fish (because Yon felt it doesn't count unless there's an animal there), and one whole hat, and another half a hat but I vowed to finish that one too. Just as soon as I become sick again.

Heart & fish

But the main thing about my being sick is that you know how when you feel bad you lose your appetite and all that? Well, I don't get that. For me, sick means carbs. Lots and lots of carbs. Way more than usual amounts of carbs. And chocolate. Obviously. It is a known fact after all that chocolate is nature's way of combatting the flu. Only losers think it's chicken soup. But if you have to have soup throw in some (meaning lots) croutons and grated cheese. Also, when I'm sick I need my tea to have three teaspoons of sugar and one of honey. It's mandatory (and not the way I usually drink my tea). You would think the next line will be on how much weight I gain throughout this illness food-fest, but no, I always lose weight when I am ill, no matter how much I eat. The problem is I usually gain it all back in the first three days of feeling better.

My new hand-made hat!

This time around I continued to feel bad even after the week of antibiotics and was on enough medications to make sure I started seeing flying elephants instead of flying cakes, that I didn't gain back any weight, but I did lose all my Weight-Watchers mojo. It is surprising how easily you give up on everything you gained just to go back to those same bad habits you worked so hard to vanquish. I need to lose another 4 kilos. It's not much, but unfortunately it doesn't lose itself. And more than that, I need to get back into the hated exercise regime we've just managed to establish around here before I conveniently became ill.
I don't know about anyone else, but I always find the fact that I have to change the way I live in order to live according to someone else's rules and method a tad difficult (look at me with my restraint writing) so while Hidai tries to convince me that if you add the exercise points and the weekly points to the daily maintenance points you actually get enough points to live a decent life, I tend to think that if you need to worry all the time about every piece of cake that goes in your mouth life really isn't all that decent. I tend to look at it as somewhat of a slope kind of thing, sure you start off with the best intentions and promise you will forever keep writing in your app every little piece of chocolate and never over indulge again and that of course no one needs that second piece of pie, you slowly start slipping and after a while the only thing you do is keep paying the Weight Watchers monthly fee on account of the fact that stopping the payment is like admitting defeat. But I was supposed to be on the honeymoon period of the diet, after the horrible start and before the slippery slope. And I am not. I am somewhere around mid-slope. I find myself saying too many times a day - life is too hard to not eat cake.
Take yesterday for example. We got two parcel slips. Why would parcel slips cause an actual slip you ask. One was indeed the very nice chocolate I ordered for Valentines Day. The other was Yon's DLA forms. If you are still not sure what it is, DLA is a very harmless name for Disability Living Allowance. And form is a very harmless name for the 40 something pages in which I am supposed to detail everything Yon can't do. What does it say about me that I was more relieved to see the forms than the chocolate? Nothing good I guess.

Chocolate and wine all ready for Valentines

The moral of the story? That I got chocolate for Valentine's Day. I even added a note. And a bottle of wine. The problem of the story? That the boys went with me to pick the parcels up and informed me that they see themselves as equal chocolate deserving partners. When I gave up trying to explain it's mummy's chocolate and tried to at least get kisses in exchange for chocolate, Yon informed me that he will not give me any kisses, as I should share with them because apparently "sharing is caring".
Yes, but not with my really expensive and super fancy Hotel Chocolate box.
Right?



I hope you enjoyed reading the post :) I would really appreciate two minutes of your time and a vote for Best Writer (and best blog if you are so inclined) at the MAD blog awards -
Just press the photo and copy in my URL - http://londondegani.blogspot.co.uk
Thank you very much!

I am linking this post with #WobblesWednesday over at the fab AutismMumma
And with #PoCoLo over at the lovely Vevivos.

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Week 3 - defeating the app

Diets make you into a liar. Have you ever noticed this or is it just me? Maybe a lier is too strong a word, but for sure they turn you into a conniving person. I mean, I like to think of myself as a generally honest and law abiding person, and though it is true that I might evade a question or go with "refraining from telling is not the same as lying", or "white lies are to make people feel better, so it's not technically lying" I would never lie to a direct question. And here I was this week trying to lie to an app. An iPhone app has turned me into a lier. The Weight Watchers have bested me. How? With one MilkyWay.
Yes, all it took was one MilkyWay for me to lose any shred of self respect and self esteem I still possessed, and turn me into an obsessed backbone-less creature who only had one thought in its tiny brain - Need chocolate. Now. What's the problem? you are probably wondering, like any sane person would. Well, a fun size MilkyWay weighs 17 grams. I had a full size one, that weighs 22. A fun size one is 2 points, while a full size one is 3 points. And all I was willing to give that MilkyWay were 2 points. This is when I learned the important rule of WeightWatcher -a point is a point, but it has a range of weights. Because apparently while it is true that a fun size one is 2 points, it is still 2 points all the way to 21g. And mine weighed 22g. Yes, I stood there with a knife and a scale, and cut off 1g of MilkyWay, and yes I did feel as stupid as it sounds. Do you know how big 1g of MilkyWay is? it's a crumb. It's like a tiny breadcrumb. And you know what is even sadder than a grown woman cutting off deliberately a breadcrumb size MilkyWay? The fact that I don't even like MilkyWay.

So you know what is the first rule of WeightWatcher? Tricking the app. It's like a game of cat and mouse. Or actually a contest to see who can annoy the other more. One piece of bread is 1 point. 2 pieces are 3 points. The app won. But if you want those two pieces and don't want to "pay" more points for spreading them, use 3g of butter on the first, and 3 of soft cheese on the other - 0 points. You win.
Want more than one biscuit to go with your afternoon coffee? Just eat two different ones. why? Because biscuits (WeightWatchers one) are 2 points each. But, if you eat 2 of the same kind, it's 5 points and not 4. So you just eat 2 different ones, and viola! 4 points. Take that app!
Yes, diets make you into a liar, and also somewhat of a crazy person. It's the embracing the crazy that's important.
Maybe that should be the first rule of any diet - embrace the crazy. Diets, after all are filled with ups and down, lows and highs, good days and bad days. I tell you what it is not filled with - easy days. In no day do you go around saying, hey! I did not notice that I ate meals the size of a pea, or that I just finished my fourth day in a row of exercising, or that I am so filled with fruits I am starting to resemble a pineapple. You would think that week 3 would be easier for me, after all I've finished the "cleanse" stage, I've established the exercise, I have discovered how to beat the app at its own game. But the truth is it has been the toughest week yet.
And not even because of the diet. It's the post. I am not a friend of my mailbox on the best of times, it glares at me every time I leave the house and I feel compelled to check what's inside every time I pass it. Every single time. It means on the way out and on the way back in. I check my mailbox about 8 times a day. In return it has never brought me anything but grief. Actually, that is not completely true, I got one birthday card and one Christmas card last year. This week however it brought me 10 letters about Yon. 10 letters with appointments, groups, benefits, referrals, advice... Every day there were 2 new letters. 2 new disability related problems to deal with. 2 new pieces of paper I have no idea what to do with.  When you have a Special child you get used to the doctors, the appointments, the endless need to keep one eye open. But because Yon's condition is static, because we are doing everything through the school and the hospital and apparently because our case "got lost somewhere" we don't usually get too many letters, and we never get any letters we don't know about in advance and are prepared for. And even then I have to admit I don't react well. 10 letters I wasn't expecting, one phone call and a chat in school amounts to the kind of pressure that usually can only be solved in one way - food. Oh, who am I kidding. Chocolate.
Trying to solve this letter crisis without resorting to food led to no sleep which contributed to general annoyance and bitchiness.
So on Tuesday, after the fifth letter came in the post, telling me to expect a phone call from someone at the council regarding our benefits entitlement (I had no idea we had any benefit entitlement. I still don't think we have any), I felt I can't take it anymore.
I ordered a pizza. A large vegetarian Papa John's pizza. Just for me.
This week I ate 3 MilkyWays, half a jar of Dulce de Leche and a whole pizza.
So I did the only thing possible. I got a haircut, because what does it matter where the weight comes off from? But as it turns out, hair doesn't weigh very much, even after you've neglected it for about 4 months. Not even a hundred grams.

So I employed a personal keeper. You know how people with eating issues never eat in public? Well, that's me. If there is someone around I am the model of good eating habits, but leave me in the house alone? That is where my true colours are revealed. But I have a secret weapon - Ron. He likes numbers, and patterns, and calculations, and feeling like he is in charge. And every day from the moment I pick him up from school, he's been checking me - how many points is that? and this? How many do you have left? why aren't you eating this? why are you eating that?

Darn that need to communicate with my children and looking at everything as a teachable moment for life.
This week's diet lesson - must learn how to lie to kids.

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Week 2 in hell

I've made it. For the first time in my whole life I haven't had any chocolate at all for 14 days. It has been my goal so many times in the past and I've never made it past the 10 days mark, but this time I've made it to 14 whole days. I want to celebrate. Somebody has a piece of chocolate cake?
To mark the occasion I have decided to tell you how my week has been, because - why should Hidai be the only one to suffer? I have made it to 14 days of no chocolate, and somewhere around day 9 have lost the will to live. All happiness has deserted me, together with all energy and instead a dark cloud made entirely out of grapes has descended over the whole house.
14 days of Weight Watchers have made me realise that life really is cruel, that the beauty standards in our society are so wrong and unrealistic, that I am old and married and shouldn't have to work so hard at looking young and pretty, and that if I want to fit in my trousers without having to do some extreme acrobatics while the mirror is smirking away at me, I still need 3 more weeks of grapes.

So I broke down. I ate 100 grams of Curiously Cinnamon only to realise one minute later that they amount to half (yes, half) of my daily eating points. The hard boiled egg and salad I ate for dinner that day (because they were worth exactly the last 2 points I had left) taught me something valuable though, so it was all worth it. They taught me something every Weight Watcher group leader will tell you the first time you visit, to stop at 50 grams.
You know how it is, it's the little things like this that help you succeed in a diet. Like writing every little thing you eat. Or putting the scales in the bathroom and weighing yourself every time you go to the loo. Or banishing every baking-related newsletter and blog to the automatic archive. Or delegating food shopping to others. Or throwing away everything chocolate or taste related, and still keep a tiny emergency stash of chocolate-chips (that way, if you are willing to eat them you'll know it's a true emergency). Or playing Candy Crush on your phone while everyone else is eating happily away.
I might have done all of the above this week.
But I have not touched the baking chocolate (or the chocolate chips).

This week was actually about adding the exercise to the menu, because it's not enough to just not eat, you have to take out your frustration and lose what little energy you have left to a sadistic DVD instructor who keep saying things like "keep smiling" or "if it doesn't feel good don't do it" and "remember your body can do more than you think, just let it". So I have invented a mental game, like a drinking game but for exercise - every time Dalia (that is the DVD demon's name) says one of those sentences I wish her something nice and full of love in return. If you can actually say it out loud and not just mentally wish her a room full of cakes and mirrors then it means you are in better shape! This week I have done two Pilates training session, and I am glad and proud to say that I am still alive. Dalia, bless her, is also still alive and the DVD has yet to be thrown out the window even after she advised to do that 4 times a week and keep smiling while we try and bend from the stomach without moving our pelvis and keep one hand stretched behind our ears.
And that is the exercise I like! Because the other one is running. I hate running. Hidai loves it, and is much better at it than me (and here he will tell you how he started running training when he was 16 while I ditched PE lessons since I was 12). Now it's not that I'm competitive much, it's just that I can't stand that someone is better than me at something. And with running, I really am quite bad at it. It doesn't matter how much time I've been doing it, I just don't have good running habits, you know like breathing so you won't fain in the middle.

It doesn't help that since I have been pointedly avoiding my treadmill for a year and a half I have lost every shred of physical ability I have ever had. So I had to start over from "running for beginners", which means intervals of 5 minutes walk 4 minutes run for 30 minutes, which I survive thanks to three things - drinking lots of water (about a litre of water during this time), listening very loudly to my carefully chosen training music which has only angry songs in it while trying to shout them out loud at the TV, and watching football. I know, you weren't expecting that one, but I discovered that if you have other people running and suffering in front of you it makes it so much easier. And footballers, they always run and rarely look happy about it. The perfect companion. I don't really care who is playing as long as it's there, so this week I made Ron play his FIFA on the xBox while I was running. Hey, fake footballers run too.
At this point. after 2 running session, I still have to stand on the treadmill for five minutes so my legs won't buckle from under me.
And then I go to take a shower and realised I gained a kilo.
So the conclusion from this week is that running makes you fat.

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