Dear Diary: The Horror Of Calorie-Counting

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I’m currently sat in Starbucks attempting to be productive because whenever I’m at home I’m caught up in OH LET’S PUT A WASH ON AND DO THE WASHING UP AND MAYBE HOOVER AND CHANGE THE BED SHEETS AND CLEAN THE LITTER TRAY AND FML IT’S MIDDAY AND I HAVEN’T DONE ANY WORK.

So yeah, Starbucks.

I’m sipping my way through a Green Tea Lemonade because wtf they’re out of peach syrup. Oh and also, I’m dreaming about lunch.

A chicken, feta, cucumber, rocket and tomato salad, I reckon. Maybe with a little balsamic drizzle and a good helping of ground pepper.

Y’see, today marks my second day back on the rollercoaster of life that is MyFitnessPal. (An app that helps you calorie count, in case you’re feeling in the dark – it’s also referred to as MFP.)

Punch me in the face now.

When I arrived home from New York a couple of months ago, and stepped on the scales, things were – surprisingly – pretty dandy. I think I’d gained a pound. A single little pound despite the 375627 pizza slices, burgers, doughnuts, cocktails, pancakes and other delicious American carb-y goodness that had entered my mouth during that dreamy week away. I put it down to sweating most of it out from places I didn’t even know it was possible to puddle from, and walking 20,000 steps a day.

Thailand, however, was not quite so dandy on the ol’ waist line.

Which is LOL because so many of you have been commenting recently to ask if I’ve lost weight. Nah pal, the scales are saying more 27th December than 27th January, if you get what I’m saying.

Turns out all those heavenly curries, despite not being rammed with additives and processed bleurgh, were in fact laden with sexy, naughty, heavenly calories.

And they tasted SO good, so I have no regrets. Someone hook a girl up with a Pad Thai and a Massaman curry, won’t ya?

Anyway, none of this would be such a big deal, because obviously I’m happy and confident regardless of the number on the scales – aside from the fact that LOL I have a wedding next weekend and the dress I bought back in May, is ahem, very snug.

And I mean, very snug.

It does up, but then I can’t breathe or move or sit down, so there’s that. I feel like a corseted 19th century princess, and not in the majestic, royal, billionaire kinda way.

And so I’m on a bit of a last-minute mission to be able to wear it, and also to be able to breathe.

(The dress is seriously pretty and I’ve been pining over it since January so no, there is no other option. Nope).

The issue is that, I kinda forgot how hideous a person calorie-counting turns you into.

I cried last night because the house was annoying me, I screamed at Chris, I whinged, I stomped. Yes, my name is Hannah Gale and I am aged twenty-six and five sixths and I did an actual stomp. Like a toddler. Because I hadn’t had enough carbs.

I’d had fruit carbs and sweet potato carbs, but no real carbs. No bread, no pasta, no rice, no noodles.

Now I know that isn’t healthy, and it’s certainly not balanced, and it’s not something I plan to do today because hey I’m doing a quinoa bake for dinner (please still read my blog, I’m still cool and ‘normal’ and hip and happening and I really like cheeseburgers), it just kinda happened.

And I felt so out of control of my mood, so irritable, so ready to see the negative in every little thing that happened. I didn’t like carb-less Hannah, she was a grade-A bore and a teeny tiny bit cray.

But it made me think back to the last time I felt that unreasonable. I felt like I was transported back into the exact same person I used to be, back in the noughties (no you’re crying because time is passing by so quickly), when I was a teenager.

I always used to attribute my hideous mood swings and sadness and irritability on a) having an unstable home life and b) the contraceptive pill. Although mostly b) to be honest.

And now I’m like FUCK, my whole understanding of myself is wrong. I was such a little brute because I used to do stupid shit like eat a tin of chopped tomatoes for dinner. Chopped fucking tomatoes. As a meal.

Or do other ridiculous diets like the time I ate nothing but meat and vegetables for a whole week. I basically survived off chicken wings and ham tbh.

(I lost five pounds, in case anyone was wondering and no – it 102% was not worth it).

That actually, my temperamental mood was *probably* more down to starving my body of the things it needed than I ever really took notice of.

So yeah, gal pals, don’t cut out the carbs. The carbs give you energy and make you feel stable – emotionally and physically, because boy did I feel woozy and lethargic last night without the good stuff running through my veins.

Anyway yeah, I’d love to hear some of your diet stories – tell me the ridiculous diets you’ve embarked on that you’d rate a 0/10 and tell me your successes. Your fave meals, your fave tactics, the things that have helped you shift those few pounds that are clinging on with their nails digging in.

I want some inspo!

Oh and wish me luck because I really want to wear that dress. It makes me feel like an absolute queen. *Insert 574564 sassy emojis*

 

 

 


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