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Day 197: Renewed Energy – Let’s Smash Some Lifelong Targets

The luxury of having toast and egg for breakfast as I have been doing on Step 3 (1000 calories) of the Cambridge diet has ended…for now.

Things have been a bit slow on the weight loss front, so I’ve decided to shake things up a little bit.

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Today, I have stepped down to Step 2 of the Cambridge diet, eating 810 calories daily which constitutes: three Cambridge weight plan products, 300 ml of semi-skimmed milk (I couldn’t stomach 425 ml of skimmed milk so worked out the semi-skimmed milk calorie equivalent), 80g of vegetables from a list of allowed vegetables and a measured amount of protein from an allowed list, in my case, usually 2 eggs or 245g of skinless chicken breast or 275g of white fish or 250g of seafood. To up my fibre intake, I use Cambridge fibre and I also start the day with a heaped teaspoon of psyllium husk powder which I mix into milk from my allowance, I tablet of canderel and some cinnamon powder which makes it a pleasant experience.

So here are some wonderful targets to aim for:

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Lose another 1.5 kg (3.3 pounds) – 5 stone total loss (32 kg; 70.4 pounds)

Lose another 7 kg (15.2 pounds) – Lowest weight since I was about 20 years old!

Lose another 16.5 kg (36 pounds) – Lowest weight since I was 18 years old! This might be the target to end this journey on or one to hit and carry on until I can be called ‘skinny’ for the first time since I was a child.

I will treat today like Day 1 of my diet.

100% all the way.

Hitting the first of these targets will be totally awesome.

Nothing or no one, including myself should stand in my way.

No messing.

I can do this.

I can totally do this. 

i can do this every morning

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4

Day 195 – Bank Holiday Blues

I’ve had a sad couple of days.

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I guess the emptiness of my life hits me at long weekends. I do not know how to fill that emptiness. I will not force things. I will give myself time. This is not the time to heal. I do not have time to heal when I spend my days fielding new crap from my ex.

Many of my friends are still unaware of the end of my marriage and I am far too exhausted to tell them.

This week, I told one of my friends who lives in the States and who I have known since secondary school. She screamed for the entire two hours plus we talked thanks to free WhatsApp international calls. She sat there looking at photos my ex and I had taken with her and her family in New York. She was genuinely shocked. She couldn’t believe what I was telling her. She had noticed I had bailed my Facebook and had been worried about me. She tells me that she knows us. She knows our love. It is the real thing.

If she was asked to pick one out of 100 marriages that would make it forever, she would have picked us.

She had even come all the way from New York, heavily pregnant with her first child to attend our wedding.

“No, no, no, no no. This is not happening.”

“It has already happened B.”

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She tells me that my ex is having a serious mental breakdown.

I also told another friend who I have known since primary school who now lives in Spain after I dodged answering several messages where she enquired about my ex. She kept asking about my ex. I finally thought this is silly and so I told her. She was shocked and in disbelief. She had spent the last 7 years or so seeing countless loving photos of my ex and I and countless expressions of love on Facebook where all my ex ever posted were photos of us or events we were attending.

“Those happy Facebook photos was the life l truly believed I had.”

She tells me that my ex is having a mental breakdown.

I am exhausted by life. Telling people can be so draining.

She tells me I am the nicest person she knows. I am the most beautiful person she knows. She tells me how highly sought-after I was when we were growing up. She claims all the guys wanted to be with me. She says I shouldn’t say I will never marry again because I am far too young. Time will heal and I will meet the right man. I deserve to be with someone wonderful because I am such a fantastic person and she loves me so so so much. She will pray for me and ask her church to pray for me. She will do special midnight prayers for me.

I end the call grateful for her kindness and feeling a bit guilty for feeling exhausted by the call.

I call my 4 year old nephew who lives abroad. He immediately says can I speak to uncle ex even though the little boy hasn’t seen my ex for a year. It’s uncle ex, uncle ex, uncle ex.

Fuck uncle ex.

On my ex’s birthday, my niece and other nephews remember his birthday. They have spent countless weeks of the summer holiday, over several years of their young lives, holidaying with us during my ex’s August birthday. They go about with sadness, their young lives shattered by the realisation that shit happens. The uncle they adored so much, often declared was their best uncle, with whom they had spent so many happy times, long summer holidays, spent several days over last two Christmases, didn’t want to know them any more.

They mean absolutely nothing to this man they adored who has known them since they were babies and who has so easily discarded them, along with their auntie.

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Yesterday, my mum told one of her close friends who had spent a few nights with my ex and I, about the end of my marriage. Afterwards, my mum was very sad and she said that the shock of the end of my marriage had hit her all over again. We tried to console each other.

The biggest fallacy is that for 14 years, I was with someone who I considered a saint. I painted him to my family like one, and they loved him like one.

As my mum and I tried to make some sense of the last few months and my ex’s continued bizarre and upsetting behaviour, which are so far removed from this person that we all knew and loved so much, we couldn’t make sense of it all.

The only sense either of us could make for the vitriol and wickedness is that this man is seriously mentally ill, in need of psychiatric medication but doesn’t know it.

But he says he isn’t ill.

He said that’s just my way of rationalising the end of our marriage.

When he had initially accepted that he was behaving irrationally, and had indicated he would get counselling, I had done my wifely duty. I had given him chances upon chances. I had reassured him that I would stick with him for the long haul as long as he got help.

But he then declared he was well.

If he really isn’t ill, the only other alternative is too heart-breaking and scary.

The alternative which my ex has insisted upon; that he is perfectly well.

That alternative that the person who has done the evil things this man has done, continues to do, does so with a clear head.

The alternative that means that I had loved a monstrous, evil, heartless psychopath for 14 years and I didn’t even have a clue.

What the hell does that make me?

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This evening my sister told me of her sadness hearing a song that was part of our wedding video; a wedding video my young nephews used to watch endlessly, declaring that they wanted to get married like their auntie and uncle.

I tell my sister that I cry when I listen to love songs; and so I don’t listen to such songs. Lately, I have been listening to old songs from my teenage years. Songs that evoke memories of happier days; freer days, going clubbing in London as a teenager. My friends and I had no money, so we would arrive early enough for free entries. I would dance all night and nurse a diet coke and a bottle of water all night.

I desperately hope that those memories will block the sad ones. They do and they don’t.

My little nephew who is a sensitive old soul sends me one of his countless “Auntie are you OK?” messages.

“I’m OK, thanks sweetie. How are you?”

We play this little game all the time; I know that he knows that I’m not really OK.

And that’s perfectly OK.

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7

Day 193: Angler – One Life to Live

So today I had the choice of cancelling long standing lunch plans and spending all day dealing with divorce crap, or having a wonderful lunch, in a gorgeous Michelin starred fish restaurant, Angler, with a very handsome, very fit, interesting and interested man…picking the tab.

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I chose to say fuck you divorce crap and I spent the afternoon flirting and laughing out loud with a gorgeous man…

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Easy tiger.

No romance to report as he is a very darling friend, who has been amazingly kind to me including taking me to Hakkasan Mayfair to reclaim my favourite London restaurant after my ex took his mistress there.

At the end of lunch, I was taken on a wonderful tour round the stunningly gorgeous South Place Hotel where the rooftop Angler restaurant is located, by two fantastic managers, Xavier, the Guest Relations Manager and Francesco, food manager, and invited to an event at the hotel next month.

I felt like a celebrity.

I have one life to live and I refuse to let anyone steal my joie de vivre

At least I didn’t today.

Perhaps tomorrow, divorce crap may rule the day but for today, life is beautiful.

I might have broken my diet a little bit but I’m right back at it. My bad.

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Amuse bouche of some cheesy stuff

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Our starters: Mine seared Orkney Island scallops; his yellowfin tuna tartare

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My main of monkfish tail and braised octopus; his whole grilled lemon sole

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My dessert of chocolate fondant and pistachio ice cream, the first time I have had dessert since February and worth every mouthful. No regrets but back on diet.

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The bill…we were both good and stuck to still water! I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since 16th February, 2015!

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Verdict on Angler restaurant: Excellent staff, good food and fabulous ambiance. Recommended by this foodie.

Verdict on South Place Hotel: Stunningly gorgeous. Wonderful, passionate staff. Excellent Customer Services. Highly recommended.

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Day 187: Week 27 Weigh-in – Dimes or 50 Cents?

My apologies for not posting for the last two weeks.

Huge thanks to all of you who have written to find out if I’m OK and for those that keep visiting my blog for updates.

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Life has been challenging to say the least.

All I want is to be divorced from my scumbag ex and to move on with my life.

Sadly, when you’re dealing with a crazy, stone-hearted psychopath, who has lost all decency, empathy and all ability to discern between right or wrong, someone who thinks it is perfectly OK to end a 14 year relationship and 11 year marriage by email from an overseas business trip, (but insisted on pretending to end a short affair face to face while married), who engaged their mistress’ sister’s law firm for your divorce, and like some seriously sick, evil fucker, heartlessly instructed said lawyer to email you for the first time on your 11th wedding anniversary, followed by rapid cancellations of credit cards, joint accounts and paying £0 maintenance while swanning around leading a life of luxury himself; disentangling myself from this psychopath and moving on with my life is increasingly looking like a very protracted legal battle.

Hatred and disgust do not even begin to describe how I feel about this serpent; this pathetic excuse of a man.

But I am ready to battle for as long as it takes to get justice and fairness.

I have absolutely nothing else to lose and will do whatever it takes to get fairness.

I do not live my life in fear.

I will not be bullied or intimidated by anyone especially someone who is fuelled by forces, so sick and dark, they are completely oblivious to their evil and sick minds.

Fuck all that. Time for some fabulous news! Dance with me? 🙂

I am still on Step 3 of the Cambridge Diet eating about 1000 calories.

The fantastic news is that I have now lost enough weight that I am beginning to feel like my beautiful self.

Others are also noticing the weight loss. I have had a couple of dinner parties in the last few weeks with people who remain clueless to my marital woes. However, my goodness, the compliments about how beautiful I looked kept coming and coming and coming and coming!

I am extremely grateful for generous and kind-hearted souls.

Today, I weighed 93.8 kg. I have now lost 30.6 kg (67 pounds!) and I am 1.4 kg, (3 pounds) from losing 5 stones. OMFG!

Week Twenty Seven’s Verdict: today’s weight 93.8 kg, week’s weight loss 1.7 kg (3.74 pounds); total weight loss; 30.6 kg (67.3 pounds)

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1

Day 173 – Week 25 Weigh-in 4 1/2 Stones Loss.

The painters are in, so I shouldn’t be too upset with the disappointing loss this week…OK, I’m still disappointed.

However, another mini target to tick off.

Week Twenty five’s verdict: today’s weight 95.5 kg, week’s weight loss 0.4 kg (0.88 pounds); total weight loss; 28.9 kg (63.6 pounds)

My next mini target, 5 stones is a big one for reasons I will explain another time. Hoping it doesn’t take such a tortured, long route!

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7

Day 169: Glamour Me Oh Ancient Vampire

I’ve had a very sad weekend.

I can’t escape my head.

I am heartbroken.

I am the first person to tell myself; get over it and I will…

I just don’t know how long it’ll take.

The end of any marriage is very tough, no matter what I tell myself and it’s reassuring to read that even conscious uncoupling Gwyneth Paltrow has admitted that she’s finding things tough. Phew. She’s human after all.

The shock that my marriage has ended still hits me daily. The shock of the secrets, lies, betrayal, dashed hopes, shattered dreams, a derailed path in life, twosome becoming solo; knowing that I had wasted 14 precious years of my life with someone who is a complete stranger to me.

I feel the sort of drained emptiness I would usually feel after a long IVF cycle turns negative.

All that wasted time, money, mental and physical energy…

Only this is a million times worse.

Today is my ex’s 45th birthday. I get the mid-life crisis. I get the panic that if he lives to be as old as his dad when he died, he only has 25 years old left on planet earth, and even less, if he takes after his grandfather.

I get the panic of is this all there is to life? I get the whole cliched mid-life crisis.

But the truth is, if my ex had spent a little more time remembering and appreciating some of the good things in his life, instead of the idiocy of chasing greener grasses, if he had watered his own grass even a little bit, he might have appreciated some of the things in his life more.

The if onlys are pointless thoughts and wasted energy, I know that.

The reality that still astounds me to this day is that prior to my discovery of his affair, in all 14 years we were together, my ex never for one single day ever said that he was unhappy about anything in our lives.

Not a single word. Absolutely Nada.

My thoughts have been filled with birthdays gone; the surprise birthday cakes I would have delivered to his work as he was usually working very long hours on his birthday. The surprise big 40th birthday party in 2010 that took me 8 months to plan with military precision and secrecy, where I managed to get all his friends and family from all over the country and he didn’t have a clue. In 2011, I lovingly made him roasted duck with all the trimmings. In 2012, I cooked black cod a la Nobu and then planned a fun Olympic themed birthday party. In 2013, I got a Michelin restaurant to give him a little birthday surprise, followed by a birthday party a few days later with the most gorgeous cake. In 2014, another Michelin restaurant, my all time favourite London restaurant Hakkasan Mayfair, where we used to go at least once a month, and where he would admit taking his mistress, also gave him a little birthday surprise, complete with a candle.

I wonder whether his birthday wishes were to finally find a way out of his marriage?

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I guess after tomorrow, the next big occasion to survive would be Christmas.

Christmas has always been my favourite holiday. This year, the thought of it depresses the fuck out of me. For 15 years, I spent every single Christmas with my ex who would lavish me with gifts; I was always overwhelmed by his generosity when we were together.

I think about going away to some beach somewhere over Christmas but the thoughts of being surrounded by happy families/couples depress the fuck out of me, that is, assuming I don’t spend all my money fighting my ex in court.

The idea of staying at home for Christmas also depresses the fuck out of me.

The emptiness of Christmases trees compared to the bulging Christmas tree of last year; lovingly typed Christmas menus, meticulous planning, all depress the fuck out of me.

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Perhaps, I would do something I’ve always thought of but have never done.

Perhaps this Christmas, I will forget all about myself and my broken heart and spend Christmas volunteering at Crisis, the homeless people’s shelter.

I don’t know, we’ll see.

I don’t want to wish away my life but I do wish that like in the drama True Blood, some ancient vampire could help me take away my sadness and my heartbreak; help take away my hurt.

I wish some vampire would glamour me and erase every single memory of my ex and our life together.

RIP Cilla Black. Legend. xxx