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Days 30/31 – Utopia

Recent woes meant that I was stressed beyond belief and in desperate need of respite. I needed a little escape from my woes and on impulse, (an hour or two forethought), booked myself into a peaceful gorgeous London hotel, where I could soak away my troubles for just one night.

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My last minute oasis, meant that I was ill-prepared and didn’t have the right Cambridge Weight plan products with me on the go. I could have taken a tetra (ready-made shake) if the hotel stay had been pre-planned; I had two of those at home. I only had a powdered shake with me which I needed to prepare hot or cold.

Given my very disturbed, unhappy state of mind as I looked at the breakfast menu, the pre-Cambridge me would have treated myself to breakfast in bed, most likely, the organic full English breakfast, with a pastry basket, full of carbs. Goodness knows after days of little sleep, I would have been gagging for some carbs.

Well…not this time.

Instead, I stuck to the diet 100%.

For breakfast, I boiled some water and poured into a spring water container, (don’t try this at home!), spooning the shake into narrow necked bottled with a little spoon. I counted to 200 as I had a little work-out shaking the bottle, and there you have it; a warm chocolate orange shake for breakfast. Not quite as nice as my blended shake, but nevertheless, a Cambridge diet breakfast.

I was still a 100 %er.

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My gorgeous room on the 44th floor at the Shangri-La Hotel at the Shard London, with amazing views of London was indeed as promised; mystical, harmonious, earthly paradise utopia, a little piece of happyland isolated from the outside world, m idyllic hideaway.

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Whilst I couldn’t escape my head and my troubles enough to get some sleep, I loved my night alone. It reminded me of that old saying: when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life…

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Day 28: 217 Golf Balls Smashed

I haven’t had much sleep. I am overwhelmed by the tidal waves of sadness that have hit me but early days, I’ll be fine. I’ve got to keep telling myself that.

everything will be alright

Real life can wait. I can compartmentalise real life. Nothing comes between me and this weight loss journey. This is my time to finally lose weight and keep it off forever. Everything else can stay in its shelved compartment.

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Brilliant news this morning is that I have hit another target.

In 27 full days on the Cambridge diet, I have lost a fraction over 1 1/2 stones. I have lost 9.9 kg, 21.8 pounds. My BMI has gone from a horrendous 48.3 to 44.5.

H.A.P.P.Y.

Here’s to hitting the next two targets. Another 2.5 kg (5.5 pounds) will mean that I have lost 10 % body fat with all its additional health benefits. 2.9 kg (6.4 pounds) will take me to the two stones mark.

OMG.

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Swimming in the Sea

The beauty of this blog is that it is anonymous. I can let it all out here.

In the week of the anniversary of the death of my father-in-law, who I absolutely adored, I said goodbye to my mother-in-law (MIL) following a few days stay at ours wishing her good health and telling her to stay fit and be happy. If she thought my kisses, hand-holding and earnest good wishes were a bit OTT weird, she didn’t let on. I did so with all sincerity because there is a strong possibility that I shall not see her ever again. No, my MIL isn’t dying but her role in my life might be coming to an end.

When you have been with someone for 14 years, married for nearly 11 years, if you are childless, it means that when the marriage ends, there is absolutely nothing to tie you with your in-laws. No children to arrange to see the MIL, aunties, uncles, cousins or enforced family events that would mean a continuation of some sort of relationship, unless of course the parties choose to do so, which will be very unlikely in my case.

The crisis that rocked my life a couple of weeks ago and resulted in the blog entry about buying myself flowers, has reared its ugly head again. Sadly, there is a good possibility that my marriage might be heading for divorce.

The irony that I started this weight loss journey to give myself the best chance of having a healthy pregnancy with my husband isn’t lost on me. The irony that I might have spent (wasted?) the best years of my life with a man when it isn’t the forever thing I always assumed it would be, isn’t lost on me. I am devastated but that’s OK, shit happens.

I have been broody since a very young age and not having children has never been the future I saw for myself. The irony that with significant sperm factor issues, I chose to have 8 ICSI cycles (IVF when there are sperm quality issues), because I had never wanted any other man to be the biological father of my children, now seems to me to be nothing but an utterly ridiculous notion.

For our last ICSI cycle last April, we had chosen a sperm donor, having accepted the fact that even with extensive treatment by one of the best private doctors in the world, my husband’s sperm had not improved sufficiently to help our IVF success rate given that age was not on side. On my part, I produced 12 eggs which is impressive given that at the time, I was nearly 41. When it came to crunch time, whether we gave us (for there was an “us” then), the best chance of having a baby with the sperm of this very fertile twenty something year old man who already had proven pregnancies, or use my husband’s sperm with its countless issues, in an emotional and tearful decision that moved even the male embryologist patiently waiting for our most difficult choice, we hugged each other as we chose to go with my husband’s sperm.

What a naïve sense of the world I must have had.

Whatever happens in my marriage, I refuse to be bitter about the past and I’ll be just fine.

I will be just fine because I used to be that high achieving girl that managed to get more A grades than anyone else I’ve ever met; that girl that achieved a first class honours degree, best results in her year, plus all academic prizes going, and did the same for my post graduate studies, all in extremely difficult and unhappy circumstances. I am that girl that ended up working in one of the best companies in the world with people including my live-in partner at the time and even a university career adviser telling me to aim lower. In the words of my ex the day before my job interview: “You will never get in. They don’t take people like you.”

That girl that can do absolutely anything she sets her mind to do, is still in there somewhere and I just have to channel her, get her out to hold my hands and face whatever the future holds with bravery, positivity and some dignity.

Whatever happens to my marriage, it will not affect my determination to lose weight for myself or in fact, to try for a baby when (if?) I feel that I am good and ready to do so, even if it means doing it on my own. And if I choose to abandon the baby making quest and move on with my life with those dreams dashed forever, I will deal with that and I will be just fine. OK, that was never the life plan, but shit happens.

In all of this, I celebrate the fact that the “me” of only a few short weeks ago would have been drowning in greasy Chinese takeaway right now or out at an impromptu party I’d been invited to, eating far too much, drinking more than I normally would to drown my sorrows. Instead, I’ve had a comforting, tasty and healthy omelette, and a Cambridge chocolate mint mousse for dessert. Go me.

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Nothing will derail this weight loss journey. To quote myself from my first blog entry once again:

This blog is not about making excuses for my weight gains. Coulda, shoulda, woulda. Shit happens. Shit happened. Deal with shit or drown with shit but don’t gain weight. Let that be the one thing I get to have some control in my life.

If my marriage isn’t salvageable and ends in divorce, I will of course be totally devastated but my life will go on. I will move on, be happy and stay positive. Someday, I might even get back on that horse and try again with the romance thing. I am extremely lucky and thankful that with all my imperfections, men have always found me attractive, even at my heaviest. In fact, I haven’t really been single since I was around 20 and went from one long term relationship to another relationship and then marriage. Perhaps being single for a little while might do me some good.

The fattest photo which I will one day proudly use as my “Before Photo” is one of me looking uncomfortably hot, miserable and extremely fat on a beach. I showed my Cambridge consultant that horrendous photo and told her my weight had stopped me going into the sea. I described my excitement and joy and showed her another photo of me when I tentatively ventured into the sea at the end of last year; slimmer than that extremely fat photo of me. She had replied that she would love to see me swim in the sea one day.

One day, when I am a healthy weight, slim, fit and gorgeous, I can tick off that bucket list. You know, that one that involves a man that loves and adores me, and is loved and adored in return, lovingly carrying me into the sea, as we giggle and happily laugh together.

Today, I promise myself that one day, I shall swim in the sea.

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