I'm not sure if I have whinged about my hair in my blog, but I'm sure I have. It was dead. The French dude I went to see a few months ago let his assistant leave some strong stuff on for hours (presumably while she went out to smoke) and when I was rinsed out, my hair was falling out in clumps. Shocking. My hair, a 4- year ongoing project, grows slow as hell. So growing it was really exciting for me (in a slow, no visible progress way, ha) and I was finally getting to do buns, ponytails, curls- cute things. Then when I came to London, I went to see a specialist who told the straight shizz- my hair was dead and would take 4-5 years to get back to normal. This dude in Paris had massacred my hair. And if you are Google ego-searching, FRANCK VIDOFF, your salon and crap "stylist" ABSOLUTELY killed my hair, and I have told and am telling everyone to never go to your salon. Murderer.
Anyway I had my second appointment with my new London salon, who are awesome, and they were quite shocked at how little my hair has repaired in two months, even after not bleaching and using gentle veggie treatments and me conditioning the hell out of it, spending long evenings under a shower cap with deep conditioner soaking into my frizzy locks. Also the lack of re-growth. I explained my hair took 3 years to grow just past my shoulders and they were also quite surprised about that. Even my hair is lazy. So anyway, after trying to convince myself that I could heal this breaking, snapping, weak and wispy mess, I told the stylist to just cut it all off. All of it. I was pointing to a picture of Carey Mulligan in a magazine and thankfully the lead stylist came over and said "Nononono, you are far too tall to have such short hair." thus I was saved from one potential mistake. However, after showing a picture of MUCH LONGER, trimmed hair, I ended up with this:
Now here, perhaps, it isn't so shocking. But when the dude cut it, he blow-dried the HELL out of it. Like it was a presidential wife mop-poof-bubble of 60's Onassis terror. I was almost crying. I looked like my Nan. I told the guy (hooray for my new assertiveness!) "UGH! It looks like my NAN!" (I think I was in shock a little...I had just cut nearly 7 inches of hair off) and then had to backpedal and try to not offend him or his work, and in the end he flat ironed out the poof and left me with this. It's not perfect, it is very short, but already the hair feels healthier, now that there isn't all the weight pulling at the crown and breaking it. And, four people already have told me how much younger I look, so I suppose that's a bonus! Or I just looked really old before. Ha?
Anyway yes. That's it. I am still cold-y and thus haven't done anything but eat all week. We did walk a little yesterday, to the tune of 16000 steps, up past Regent's Park, but when you're chesty and nose-runny it isn't the best thing to do. I'm afraid to weigh myself, as I am certain I am way over 200 at the moment, and thanks to the seven hundred mirrors in the bathroom, I can see from every angle that my legs are getting really wobbly at the top again. I MUST start running again. As soon as this coughing and snottiness is gone, I will. From today I will stop with the junk and I will eat good again. I know I say that every day, but I HAVE to. I have to write it and say it so that I don't just ignore my willpower and sit and eat out of boredom. I MUST GET BACK ON TRACK.
I MUST I MUST I MUST.
I cannot start our new life being depressed about my weight, I need to get the reigns in hand now so that when the house is ready I am happy with myself, and not dragging weight-depression into it with me.
Also next week my Farsi lessons begin. I am nervous as hell. The class is fully booked and I am shitting my pants. What if they make us all stand up and talk about ourselves? NIGHTMARE scenario. I hate that shit.
Oof. Exactly. Today Y and I took the bus/tube trek to IKEA Wembley to try to sort out what kind of kitchen we might like. It was a mini-adventure and we took the bus through Hampstead to see how the other half lives. In massive eff-off houses apprently, with Maison Blanc and brasseries and other cha cha places you will never see our neck of the woods. Ha. Then we hopped off at Swiss Cottage and took the Jube Tube up to IKEA. We did loads of walking (over 16000 steps) but also ate. IKEA junk, IKEA food, cinema food (we went to see The King's Speech after- it was great!) and then curry for dinner. Guh. But, it was a good day out, I moved my bod, I looked cute (ha) and I had fun with Y. And we sorted the kitchen. And, again, on Monday we are going to be good. If it isn't raining, it's running time again. Huunnnnrrngn.
Some photo adventureyness:
Goin' to IKEA outfit...you have to wear blue and yellow, right? Hrrng.
The grub. It wouldn't be a visit without the meatballs and cranberry sauce.
After finding the local Phonecia Mediterranean Food place on the High Street has a huuuuge selection of Persian food, Y and I went nuts and stocked up on all the foods he has missed living in Paris. We are now able to walk 20 minutes and get amazing Chelo Kebab from Camden Market (diet killer...thank god I don't like lamb) and now, 5 minutes around the corner is this mecca of awesome food. They even have French food, so if I am craving some chestnut spread, they have it. By the massive tin. Doh. They even had Petit Ecolier, the biscuits Y loves. Funny.
Anyway, we went in there and I found they had Kak. Yes, after you are done laughing at the name, you can't STOP EATING THEM. They are like filo dough with cardamom and sugar and lightly baked and jesus...they are like cocaine for fat girls. Y and I sat and scoffed half the box, huddled over it like homeless around a barrel fire. Sad. Then there is something called Aroman sweet bread. It's like a grid-shaped bread of pure ecstasy. Which I inhaled and then to save myself, threw the rest in the bio caddy to avoid eating FOUR MASSIVE sheets of it. Shudder. We have to avoid that place in the future I think.
Sigh.
Then we had coughfishandchipscough for dinner. Shit.
I blame the rain. It's been pissing down non-stop for 2 days now and as a result we haven't run or walked anywhere and been in this house like hermits, and obviously BORED and EATING. Bad. Today I have to get out and do something. It is Friday. Instead of allowing the whole weekend to pass and eating bad thus furthering the damage, I am going to be good from today. There is no time like the present, right?
Anyway, here are some snaps of whats been going on with the house and stuff lately. Fun!
Chelo Kebab of doooooom.
Persian tea in the market.
Walking to the house.
More walking shots.
Before and after of the bedroom. The dudes are TEARIN IT UP!
So yes. That's the haps as of today. Will go and walk and see what's going on at the construction zone, and pick up some post that was not delivered here. In the pouring rain. UGH. But! It's better than sitting around eating.
Well, after meeting the builders bright and early and seeing them RIP THE SHIT out of the kitchen and walls, it finally feels like something is happening to get this show on the road.
So I got back from meeting them and went for a run. I did 5k, it was tough and FREEZING, but I suffered through and returned to hop on the scale.
200.8
TWO HUNDRED POINT EIGHT.
??
I know I have been binging a few times, but surely not to the tune of 8 pounds gained in less than 4 days. Shocking. I'm hoping it is salt/stress/tom and that everything will settle down in a few days. Am chugging water in the vain hope it is salt. Guh. Morale is at an all-time low.
I had a helpful message today about y binging, coincidentally, and this helpful person had listed every day that I mentioned eating too much. Shocking as it was, it seemed to be happening once a week and it was suggested I eat MORE since I am a big girl, and try to fight the binging urge that way. I'm going to give it a try and do 1500 a day for a while and see how it goes. I know with 1200 I am just not seeing any results, even though I can barely stick to that for more than a week straight. So, obviously, something isn't working.
Anyway I am absolutely crushed at the moment, and to be honest don't want to even be on EP here, being held accountable for my actions. It sucks, I fucked up, and I'm going to fix it now. I swore I would never go up over 200 again, and here I am, over it. Not acceptable.
Tomorrow, eat well, run, take photos of house progress and BE GOOD.
Well, Y and I were great yesterday. We both ran together and did about 3 miles, and then walked about 8000 steps more looking for a warm coat for him. We stopped at the diner, a place for some lunch and I had bbq chicken breast. Probably not the best, but not a disaster. Then some cheesecake. Hm. Then we went to another cafe (After more walking) and I had a toffee apple muffin. Massive. And 2 chais. And then half of Y's lemon cake. Oh dear. Then we were walking home and stopped in the off-license where we stocked up on cookies and chips for "movie night". Which I then scoffed like it was the end of the world when we got back. Then we ordered pizza. Which I only ate 2 pieces of (obviously I was already stuffed to the gills) and then I ate some oreos. For fun.
WHAT THE HELL?
I am so upset. Why do I do this? Well, in this instance I know. I weighed yesterday morning, and was shocked to see 197. When 4 days ago it was 194. How on Earth is that true, when I am running 3 miles, eating 1200 calories (Well apart from yesterday, after the blow-out) and being really good? I think I was upset depressed/happy that Y was home and feeling like I should just not care so much, so scoffed everything. Bad move.
So, today, I have had a coffee and we are going to run today, and if I have to I will throw away the pizza and put dish soap on it so I'm not tempted to fish it out of the bin.
What an idiot! Come ON.
So now I'm scared for my weigh in...maybe I will delay it another week. Ha.
In 4 minutes it will be 2011. While I can't say 2010 was a bad year,
it wasn't one of my most memorable or favourites. But in between bad or
boring bits, there are the lovely bits for which I am very thankful for.
And, since Thanksgiving doesn't exist in this country, and I find
resolutions a bit daft, here is my list of thanks-for 2010, for my life,
for everything:
1. My husband. He is amazing. He is patient. He is clever. He makes
me laugh, always.He is a genius, he is adorable, he has so many great
isms that I could fill an entire tome documenting them.
2. My family, they are cute and odd and always make me proud to be
one of them. Little things make me smile about them; the way my dad,
born Texan, uses very English phrases like "taking the mick" after
living with my mum for over 20 years. The way we all call my little
brother (Little? He's about 6'4 and size 14 shoe at the moment)
"Punkin", even though he is 22, and the way he still answers to it and
doesn't mind. The way mum's eyes go small when she's too nice to say
anything mean or correct someone even though she knows they are wrong.
The way my dad always says "yep" in his burps, or always leaves exactly
symmetrical folded tissues so that you always know which grody bastard
left their snotrag on the table. Or the way they both still horde
sweet-n-sour sauces, ketchup sachets, sweet-n-low packs like we're still
poor. I really thankful for the pure reason that they'd do anything for
me and very much vice-versa.
3. Music. Thank god for music. And thank god for my hearing. This
years special shout-outs go to (in no particular order): Vampire Weekend
(for helping me bop through runs, and feel like I am in a Salinger
book), Kate Bush (for being so good to work to, or have in the
background), Bowie (for everything), Beethoven (never to be outdone),
Grieg's Peer Gynt Symphony (for making me think of Lapland), AIR (for
being the only French music I like), Beirut (thanks, Zach Condon),
Arcade Fire (for taking our breath away)...god the list goes on: Al
Green, Bat for Lashes, Beck, Bruce Springsteen, Devendra Banhart,
Megapuss, Diana Ross, Fleetwood Mac, Joanna Newsom, Memory Tapes, Little
Joy, Roxy Music, The Strokes, and last but not least, Freddie Mercury
and Queen- Banoo and my guys. Everywhere we go, we always hear a Queen
song, without fail. It was a good year musically. But it always is when
you love so much.
4. London. Though I've only been back a month and a half, I am so
glad to be home. And the best news? Here it is, 2011 (yeah it happened
while I was typing about music) and tomorrow Y is home. It's like a
dream, a New Year miracle! 2011 will be our year. In London. Home.
5. Health. I am thankful to be of sound mind and body, and to be able
to experience my life and world at full capacity. So many people have
so much less and I think it's often easy to overlook. Thank you, body,
for every blink, breath, process, gland, cycle or function. You are an
extraordinary machine. I'm proud of what you have done and what you can
do.
6. Humour.
I have every hope that 2011 is a big year. We will finish our house,
we will begin a family perhaps, and we will be happy and healthy for
many more new years to come. It all starts again tomorrow at 9:40 am
when I meet Banoo and our life picks up where it left off. For that, I
am truly grateful.
Day four of running. I did a bit over 3 miles and only walked one little section before finishing. In just 4 days I have made noticeable progress, which is nice. I still am slow and weak but it's better than nothing. The good news is I can continue using the route and park once we move, since our house is on the route! It just means a different starting and stopping point. Also handy since I doubt the little old suspended timber floors can handle an HOUR of treadmill pounding every day...I might go through the floor!
Not much to report today. Another good calorie deficit day. I hate my hair. It looks nice when it dries after the shower, but the minute I go outside all the broken bits frizz up and seperate and look dreadful and like hay. Ugh. I'm currently wrapped in a towel while I deep condition the hell out of it. It's driving me mad. I took 3 years to get it below my shoulders and now have to cut it, probably. Annoying. Serves me right I guess for trusting a stupid French nerd to handle it instead of sticking with my regular hairdresser.
Still no embassy news. It's physically painful being apart. Tomorrow is the last day and if we don't hear anything it won't be until after January 5th. So...whoever is sending bad karma to us? Please stop it. Come on, it's New Years.
This marks day three of running every day. I think I did about 3 miles this morning, in the drizzle and in the dog-pee stinking park. Ugh. It's boring and I hate it, but my jeans are noticably tighter and my running pants were WAY snug on Monday. I snuck a peek at the scales this morning, but I'm not going to mention it, since I want to count Mondays as weigh-ins now. But...so far so good. It's keeping me motivated. I also ordered some new running shoes, especially as mine have seen about 500 kilometers now. They are suh-weeeeeeet:
Except they have blue skinny lines on the sides, so they look all LAZER-y. Yes, LAYZOR SHEWZ.
I also scored some on-sale running shirts, but they only had M when I normally need a L...we'll see how that goes. I thought maybe some fresh gear would get me motivated again...we'll see once it gets here. So far I've done 3 days in a row, so I'm establishing routine again. If I can keep it up for 2 weeks it will become habit and I will stop fighting it every morning. Fingers crossed.
I ate well today, about 1300 cals, I did my run, and I had salad and soup for eats, and a nice porridge in the morning. I'm getting a little addicted to these Ella's Organics banana chips. They're frickin' awesome and only 65 cals a pack. Scoff scoff. I'm going tomorrow to the nature shop to see if I can buy more. I think they raise and eyebrow when I sweep in and buy LOADS of baby food and snacks. Yet they never see a baby. Ha.
Right, off to read and sleep so as to avoid night time snacking. Why yes, it is 9pm. I know, right? Pathetic.
