Bullsh*t!!!

Last week a number of ladies at my gym took part in a little detox, where we all gave up one vice for a week. It was a near 50/50 split between alcohol and coffee, with a few anomalies thrown in. Mine was chocolate; I don’t eat it often but when I do, I’m a champion chocolate consumer. I chose chocolate because I’d just had a week of feeling super crappy, compounded by my cravings for all things rich and sweet – and edible, of course.
This detox was planned before I even walked in to the gym last Monday, but putting my name and chosen vice on the whiteboard with the other ladies gave me a little extra accountability.

A week on, I asked my coach how she did with the detox and she told me her story – a positive one for the most part but our conversation focused on one evening, one trigger, one moment where she ‘caved’. And she told me how interesting it was to hear the stories about other women, about how they depended on their vices more than they realised, when they struggled and when they had their vices without even realising.
It was during this conversation, and the conversation about how my coach succumbed to peer pressure, that I called ‘bullshit!’, quite literally, and discovered a hidden belief of mine that I realise I am quite passionate about.

The weight loss endeavour is surrounded with bullshit.

Weight loss and healthier living is quite simple in itself – eat wisely and move your body. But the reality is that anyone embarking on a weight loss journey quickly comes to realise that they spend the entire time dodging the bullshit that is flung at them from rabid life-monkeys and their success depends on how many times the bullshit hits the target.

I’d know, believe me. I’ve been dodging bullshit – or creating my own – my entire life. My journey started, I think, when I heard my first piece of memorable bullshit. A boy in my class told me, when I was eight, that I was so big I’d sink a boat. That was 20 years ago, and it still makes my heart sink even now (no pun intended). But it’s bullshit. It’s bullshit that he said it, it’s bullshit that I still let it affect me, and the statement is bullshit in its own right.

So some bullshit that arose out of the detox were habitual things like automatically eating a biscuit with a cup of tea. Bullshit. There was emotional things, like mine – I feel crappy and chocolate will make me feel better. Bullshit. And there were societal things, like being made to feel like crap because you weren’t having a drink with friends so choosing to forgo your detox goal just to shut them up. Mega bullshit.

The more I chatted with my coach, the more we realised it was all just bullshit. Bullshit I tells you! Habits and beliefs about how food makes us feel and triggers that we face, it’s all just made up bullshit we’ve been told to believe or created ourselves.

Well now, I’m calling bullshit. And I encourage you to do the same. There is nothing – NOTHING – stopping you from questioning the norm and doing the opposite if it’s better for you and doesn’t hurt anyone else. It may make people feel uncomfortable where society is concerned, but that’s their bullshit, not yours.
I’m going to make it my mission in life to recognise the bullshit that is harming The Plan and call bullshit – out loud if I have to. I’m going to talk to myself out loud, too; “This is bullshit, Tiffany. You want to lose another kilo more than you want to eat that.” Maybe I’ll say, “God, that picture is bullshit. Tiffany, why are you comparing your body to hers when you don’t have her budget, her lifestyle, or her Photoshop technician?” Mind games, for me anyway, are my way of dodging those bullshit missiles of life.

But don’t get me wrong, some bullshit can be helpful. Having trouble with portion control? Use a smaller dish and bullshit your brain in to thinking you’ve got a plateful of food. Harness your own ability to play mind games with yourself and adopt the mantra, more. Ten more squats. 100 more steps. One more glass of water. And screw it, one more bacon rasher, that shit’s delicious. I reckon, once you’ve opened your eyes to the bullshit that surrounds whatever it is you’re focusing on, you can harness the power of bullshit and use it as biofuel. That’ll piss those rabid, bullshit-flinging life-monkeys right off.

So to conclude, I thought I might make a list of common bullshit scenarios, and I invite you to add to it!

·         It is bullshit if, knowing you are trying to eat healthier, someone gives you cake/cookies/wine/illicit drugs to consume because they’d have it themselves if it’s in their house. Do what they should’ve done and give it to the chickens, find a family in need, or chuck it. It’s a trigger, and it’s bullshit.

·         It is bullshit for anyone to tell you that what they want you to do is more important than a goal, or that you can relax your goal ‘just this once’. Call BULLSHIT right in their well-meaning face and explain your situation.

·         It is bullshit to make food responsible for your emotions. Poor sugar didn’t do anything wrong other than exist, it doesn’t know what’d going on.

·         It is bullshit to beat yourself up when you stumble but not pamper yourself when you succeed. Feed the wolf you want to win, babes; honour your successes and success will honour you.

·         It is bullshit to make coffee dates but not ice cream dates. Or strawberry picking dates. Or dates where you try on hundreds of shoes and not buy a single pair. Dates are for spending time together, not highlighting life’s limitations, however small or temporary.

·         It is bullshit that people are watching you. Don’t feel self-conscious, they are too caught up with their own bullshit to notice.

Anything to add?

February, chill. I've got you covered.

This week has been hard – it’s the first time that sticking to the plan has been hard for an extended length of time, and I know it won’t be the last. I’ve been feeling pretty crappy this week and that means one thing:
Dearest, sweetest chocolate, I want to be with you forever. And if anyone stands between us, I will snap their legs like twigs.

Nononononono!!!

So, it’s the end of the week now, and I’m feeling a bit better. This moment right here is the crucial part of a plan, not just for me but for anyone with a goal in mind. It’s the moment when someone trips and falls and they can decide whether to stay on the ground and wait for the medics, believing they need to be saved, or they can get up and pick the grit out of the graze, believing that unless there’s a bone sticking out they can still run the race.
Of course you know what I’m going to choose, it’s only February, for God’s sake. I’ve got shit to do.

So, to get back on track, I’m going to do some mindful writing. I wholeheartedly believe that even the most action-packed plans are all mind games, and so the frame of mind is all important. Instead of focusing on a series of fails – choices – I’ve made this past week, I’m going to focus on the successes – different choices – I’ve made so far. I believe this technique, a little something I learnt while pregnant to deal with anxiety, is going to be the key to my long term success.

 Here are the truths that I’m choosing to dwell on;

·         I’ve lost a little over four kilos in six weeks without dieting. It’s been easy and what I ate yesterday does not dictate what I eat today.

·         I can plank for a minute and a half and I can do 180 squats without stopping. I’m so proud of these numbers and I have ten months to improve.

·         My garden looks AH-MAY-ZIIING!!!

·         My inspiration fairy whispers wonderful tidbits of book in my ear all the time now, that chick’s a machine. Hahaha!

·         And lastly, Paul and I have gone for lovely walks in different places and it’s beginning to feel like dating again. Teehee. But it’s better because we have this little blonde ballerina drawing our attention to spectacular looking dirt and beautiful dead bugs, among other things.

And now, some truth about the future;

·         My goals last one month – if it’s getting boring or hard, it’s only going to last 31 days at the absolute max. Suck it up, homes.

·         February is going to feel different to January, because your goal is an intellectual one, not a physical one. Enjoy the rest, because March brings you the Durie Hill steps and you are going to OWN them.

·         Shitty days are going to happen and you’re going to have to own them, too.

I’m up, I’ve brushed myself off, and I’ve reminded myself of the big picture. My goals are sooo much bigger than a week of feeling a bit crap and therefore not achieving exactly what I’d hoped.

Thank you, oh medium of blog writing, for this much needed perspective.

Remember me? It's your irrational fear of heights! Here I am!

So, this plan. I thought hard about this plan, taking in to account all sorts of stuff like work commitments and family events and even the weather; notice how I get to stay inside during July and August? I thought about the realities of my limits and the limitlessness of my dreams. Is that even a thing? Ah well.

But. It’s one month in and I’ve hit a snag. A big ole’ ugly bump in the road that I’m going to have to climb over but I really would rather just, well, not.

Did you know, I’m afraid of heights? Do you know that it’s not just proper heights, but little heights like the first step on a step-ladder? I can’t stand on a kid’s chair at work without my knees feeling weak.

Well last weekend I climbed the Durie Hill steps for the first time in my whole life (even though I drive past them every day). And guess what? I forgot that I was afraid of heights until it was time to come back down. It took me as long as to come down those steps as it did to get to the top, and I was holding on to the rail for dear life. Every time I took a step it looked like the stair was falling away from me. Paul strode down carrying Alice, smiling at me partly because he loves me and partly because I was being such a sook.

So in March, I have to climb up those stairs three times a week. No sweat (Well, lots of sweat, actually, it’s a bloody good workout – my lungs were screaming!). What I should actually do is change my plan to ‘come DOWN the Durie Hill steps three times a week’, because suddenly this is not a physical challenge any more, it’s a mental one.

But it gets worse!

Because I’m aware of how terrified I was coming down the stairs on the weekend, I know that if I wait until March to do it again that little mental bump in the road will manifest itself in to a mountain. Damn it, you know what that means. I’m going to have to go up Durie Hill steps before then!

I used to think that I wanted to go up the steps with a friend but I didn’t want to do it with anyone too fit because I didn’t want to hold them back. Now, I want to go up with a friend who won’t laugh at me when they see me creep down the stairs, two hands on the rail.

I don’t want to go back up there, to be honest. But on the other hand, I really, really do. What is there to really be afraid of? Nothing. What is there to lose? A small part of my irrational fear of a slightly elevated standing position and some calories. And how wonderful would it be, to stroll down the stairs like those two girls in jandals that passed me, not watching where they were going and not holding on to the rail? That would be a dream come true!

Can you remind me of these things, please, when I’m on the verge of making up a lame excuse?