Yup, I'm in a mood to state the obvious tonight. I am doing a two-week diet, which promises that it will lose you half a stone. I already knew that wasn't going to happen, but my New Year's resolution was to try to reach my target weight of 63kg (9st 9 lbs) this year, and I thought I'd give it a kickstart with the diet.
I'm trying to manage on 1200 calories a day. Except I'm not, because when you average in the odd drink (I'm officially off the drink and on the soda water, though I have consumed a couple of glasses of wine), pre-workout Jaffa Cake for energy (if they're good enough to fuel the Arsenal football team, they're good enough for me) and the small piece of blondie I ate last night, it's probably more like an average of 1400 calories a day.
My basal metabolitic rate is 1333 calories a day, according to the fancy body analysis machine in my gym. That's how many I need just to survive, not counting energy needed to walk around and go to the gym. Those with a grasp of maths can see how this works.
And it is working. I'm not going to lose half a stone; it's nearly impossible to lose that much that quickly when you are already within the "acceptable" weight range for your height, but I have lost some weight, which is great.
On the one hand, it's a useful exercise after the indulgence of Christmas. It's good to exercise willpower, to practise saying no to food you don't need, to learn to enjoy an evening out with your friends without getting sozzled.
On the other hand... Christ, it's boring. Boring, boring, boring. I am sick of bloody snacking on apples, I am sick of not drinking, and mostly I am sick of feeling hungry. Thank goodness this is over with on Saturday.
It's been worth it, but I am not doing this again!
January 2024's Lonks
3 weeks ago