So far I haven’t mislaid my new found motivation. I’ve just surprised myself by getting home after working till 8pm and putting the recycling out. I haven’t put the recycling out for months! In this house it just accumulates for weeks on end before one of the house mates remembers to sort it out on a random Thursday night.

After that, while my weight watchers ready meal was in the microwave* I boiled some eggs to have as snacks tomorrow. Wooot!

While I’m still riding this surge of energy, I would like to expand item number 19 on this year’s todo list. Because ever since I decided to put ‘Stop sucking my thumb’ on what was always going to be a public list, I’ve been spending a lot of time giving defensive monologues in my head. The best way to stop worrying about it** is to publish a version of the monologue right along with the list…

I’ve pretty much always sucked my thumb. It’s a comfort thing. My left thumb goes in my mouth and for some reason things don’t seem quite as bad. I have no idea how it works, but it does.

My teeth have been affected by it. They don’t meet at the front, I can stick my tongue almost a centimetre past them. Growing up dentists would tell my parents I needed braces, but that there wasn’t any point unless I actually stopped sucking my thumb. I didn’t want braces, and most of me didn’t really want to stop sucking my thumb, so no braces for Vicky.***

All the usual tricks of painting revolting tasting substances on my thumbnail didn’t work on me. I’d just suck it all off and carry on. At night I didn’t even notice it, I’d just wake up in the morning with a horrible taste in my mouth.

So around age 14 I felt very proud of my achievement. I managed to reduce my thumb sucking from any time I was relaxing on my own with a book (as a confirmed bookworm, that was a lot of the time) to only when I was in bed at night. It made it easier to pretend I’d stopped doing it completely, as I was no longer whipping my thumb out of my mouth any time someone walked into a room I’d been alone in. My parents still knew I hadn’t really stopped. After all, instead of defending myself when my mother announced ‘Vicky still sucks her thumb,’ I’d just look sulky and, whenever possible, beat a quick retreat.

When I was 22, I spent a weekend at my aunt’s. After being told I’d be staying in my 14 year old cousin’s room, I spent the day freaking out. This was the cousin all the rest of us were compared to and found lacking. Any visit to my grandparents involved lots of conversations along the lines of ‘Which grade are you on the piano? Oh. H is grade X already. And grade Y on the clarinet and she’s just started playing the double bass. too.’ So having her discover first hand that yes, I was 22 years old and STILL SUCKED MY THUMB was not an option. Anyone else, I could have lived with, but her? No. Definitely not. I resolved to quit properly.

As it turned out, I was worrying for no reason. She was 14 and still slept her mum’s bed, only using her bedroom to get changed in. So no she wasn’t going to be discovering embarrassing things about me, more the other way round :-S

I decided that after having psyched myself up so much, I’d quit anyway even though the immediate reason to do so had disappeared. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I barely slept for the next month, because any time I drifted off to sleep my thumb would automatically slide into my mouth and I’d wake with a jolt. But I managed it. I stopped sucking my thumb completely.

That sleepless month makes the fact that I have it on my list of things to do this year so much more gutting that if this were the time I’d made a proper effort to stop :-(

I didn’t suck my thumb for just over three years. I completely lost the habit. It never occurred to me any more to stick my thumb in my mouth and suck on it.

But in November 2008 I had a minor breakdown. I was doing too much in church, I was extremely tired, work wasn’t going great and volleyball wasn’t helping. I ended up freaking out completely, giving up on all my duties at church and being too embarrassed to go back for a few weeks.

At that point, when I desperately needed all the comfort I could get, I remembered my trusty thumb. Ignoring the little voice shouting as loudly as it could for me not to undo all my good work, I put it in my mouth again. It felt strange. Wrong, even. But I recalled when it had felt right, and so I persevered and slid right back into the habit.

I want to call myself an idiot for it, but thinking back to that time, I can understand it. I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t do it again.

Because the 14th of January found me, another three years on, having another ‘Oh shit, I have to stop this right now!!!’ moment.

I’ve been quite stressed for lots of reasons recently. So I’ve spent a lot of my spare time retreating into a book. And when I started sucking my thumb again, I went right back to the pre-14-year-old any time, anywhere, as long as nobody seems likely to catch me at it version of the habit. Which meant that when I increased the amount of time I spent huddled in bed reading, I also increased the amount of time my thumb spent in my mouth. And lets face it, thumbs were not made to withstand being sucked on for hours on end.

It was just a gentle swipe. I can’t remember what I was doing, but one of the nails on my right hand caught the pad of my left thumb. It barely touched it, but the skin was so weakened that it left a scarily deep gash. It shouldn’t even have broken the skin, and it almost took half of the pad right off!

No more sucking my thumb, or who knows, it might really fall off like everyone threatened when I was small…

It’s been a month and two days**** since I quit, and I’ve only slipped up twice, and then only for a short moment before I realised what I was doing. That was a couple of weeks ago, so I’m confident I’m going to manage it. Interestingly enough, it hasn’t been keeping me from sleeping this time around. But maybe that’s because I’m so tired and sleep deprived anyway that I fall asleep no matter what.

I’ve been desperately moisturising and pampering my left thumb, and it’s recovered perfectly, thank goodness. It looks just as healthy as the one on the right.

I’ve heard that it takes six weeks to form a habit. So I have just over a week to go before I can relax my guard. Wish me luck :)

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* I was hungry, no time for actual cooking!

** other than removing the offending point from the list

***I’m not complaining about my teeth not being straight. It doesn’t bother me at all. I hardly ever notice. But now that I’ve started on about the issue, I just wanted to give you all the facts :)

***I’m not actually counting each day, I just work it out every now and again

I’ve been suffering from absolutely non-existent motivation recently. Getting out of bed to go to work each day has been the most mammoth task. And actually posting my 2012 todo list has felt impossible, even though I’ve actually had the list complete since late January.

But for some reason, today I am MOTIVATED. I not only went to weigh in at Slimming World (without having to drag myself there), I even stayed for group! That’s the first time this year.

Last year’s list was great. I’m certain it had a positive impact on my year, even though I think I only completed about half (if not less) of the items on it. And because I was able to stick to the most important rule of No pressure!!! I’m doing it again this year :)

And here it is. If you could try not to judge me too harshly, that would be lovely, thanks.

1. Go punting in Oxford or Cambridge
2. Go to a proper restaurant on my own
3. Go to Book Barn
4. Run 10k in hour or less
5. Run half marathon
6. Get bike, cycle to work
7. Get massage
8. Spa? Spa weekend?
9. Be happier, less angry
10. Go sphereing/zorbing
11. Blog once a week
12. Go on date (speed dating counts)
13. Go to the opera
14. Go to the ballet
15. Actually follow on of the recipes/instructions for decorating cake from my countless cake decorating books
16. Go swimming on own
17. Go to Westonbirt arboretum
18. Cook something from a Slimming World recipe at least once a month
19. Quit sucking my thumb
20. Get Slimming World 4 stone sticker by bristol 10k
21. Stay at 4 stone or lower by end of year!

I’ve already kind of failed at a few of them (see items 11 and 18), but I’m hoping it’ll average out over the whole year. And if not, never mind :)

Here’s hoping I can hang on to this surge of motivation for a while :D

I’d definitely get dizzy and fall all the way back down if I tried this! I wonder what’s up with the poor kitty :-S

via Pleated Jeans

So I failed at the blogging at least once a week in 2011. Oops. There are quite a few other items on my 2011 todo list that I chickened out of, or never quite got round to, or almost managed but not quite. But I’m not beating myself up over it, because that wasn’t the point of the list.

I’m completely certain that the list improved 2011. I know I wouldn’t have bothered to insist we go to Go Ape for my birthday. Or to actually organise a trip to Alton Towers. And Alton Towers was such a hit that we (the work mates and I) went to Thorpe Park not long after that.

So 2012 is getting its own todo list. I haven’t quite finalised it yet, but it’s coming along. So far I have about 15 items (including the two didn’t-quite-make-it items from last year ‘Run the 10k in an hour or less’ and ‘Run a half marathon’).

A new resolution is ‘Be more happy’. I get cross/angry/frustrated quite easily. One of my work mates teases me about it a lot. Not in a horrible way. He tries to get me to see that constantly getting worked up over the little things just makes me unhappy. So this year I want to try harder to learn to take a step back and say to myself ‘Never mind. This really is just a little thing. So look at the beautiful blue sky…’ or something to that effect.

So happy thoughts.

Except 2012 hasn’t started great. My grandpa’s dying of cancer. Not good.

He seems more cheerful now that he’s been given a time frame to work with, even if it is very short. But it’s so hard to watch him deteriorate like this.

Apparently the ‘no drinking and blogging’ rule that I put in place a million years ago? More of a guideline that one. ‘Cause OMFG am I ever shitfaced. If I can type in my password, I can blog (not blod), right?

So, it’s been a while since I blogged. It’s also been a while since I drank much. But when I let go, I totally let go! It was lovely ;)

It was quite funny. There were a lot of people there who actually remember the epic night when I got completely lost and wandered round Bristol all night. While it’s an extremely embarrassing memory, I LOVED reminiscing about it with various people tonight :-D

But the reason I’ve actually got my PC out and written this post is the following:

I’ve joined a new volleyball team. It’s a mixed team that is part of the club I’ve been in since I’ve been in Bristol (I was a member of this club 5 years ago, when I was here for my work placement, too). But the level of volleyball is quite a bit lower than I’ve played recently. Tonight we had the first club social of the year (hence the shitfacedness). And after plenty of alcohol, my team mates have ‘fessed up: my volleyballing weakness, in their view, is my spike. My dig is great, my spike not so much.

While I understand how they have come to this conclusion (they’ve only seen me play twice, both times my digs were unusually good, but I haven’t quite got used to the mens’ height net yet (8 inches higher than women’s height!!!)), I am quite befuddled. I’ve played volleyball for 14 years now and I have ALWAYS been a hitter. My spike is my STRENGTH!

And I know I can spike down over a men’s height net. I just need to get used to jumping that high again. I am sooooo going to show them. Just watch this space, I am going to wipe the court with anyone on the other side who thinks I can’t spike! Just you watch!

Also, apparently (at least when drunk), I feel there’s no need for my old blog (notswiss.blogspot.com) to be private anymore ;)

Who knows how I’ll feel once I’ve regained conciousness…

PS: Ouch, I just sneezed and bit my tongue :(

A couple of weeks ago the random lunchtime conversation turned to music storage formats through the ages. What I took away from the conversation was the sad thought that some of my favourite music is stuck on badly deteriorated tapes.

Having been reminded of all that wonderful 90s music, I went online to have a look for it. Would you believe the first song I remembered was this monstrosity:

Isn’t it freaky? I love it to bits anyway!

I went online that evening and found a wonderful website listing all the “Bravo Hits” CDs. They’re a German kind of “Now That’s What I Call Music” compilation. Growing up in Switzerland that tended to be where I got my music from, copying my friends’ Bravo Hits CDs (I didn’t know about it being illegal back then).

With my usual self control I ended the night having ordered 7 compilations. I know, 7 double CDs is an awful lot in one go, but trust me, it was very close to being sooooo much worse…

Um, lets ignore the fact that I then had to order a new iPod Classic so that I’d have space for all my new music. Oops. But I really had been meaning to get a new iPod for ages, because the one I’ve got is slowly dying (it’s a five year old Nano).

Anyway, I digress.

The CDs have been trickling in ever since. I’m extremely happy with the five I’ve got and am looking forward to the remaining two.

My running playlist has been taken over by all the 90s europop, which makes running so much more fun. But let’s not talk about running. I’ve got a humongous fail going on there. Eek.

This next one is my favourite song from the latest CD to arrive. In fact, it might be my favourite over all. Takes me back to 1993 (I was 10, why am I in love with all this music from when I was 10?!)

(Sadly I can’t seem to embed the original version, but this is close enough *g*)

I spent all day today wondering why I was in such a completely foul mood for no good reason. After I’d managed to cheer myself up by booking accommodation for two fun trips I’ve got planned in the next few months, I managed to work out what the problem was: PMS. Oops. I always forget about it and think “I don’t get PMS.” And then once a month I look back on a horrific day or two and think “Oh, I guess I do get PMS, who knew?”

I’m feeling much better now, thanks to reminding myself of all the great things I’ve been doing or have still got planned. (Ok, so the painkillers helped too. But never mind that!)

1. Holiday in Gran Canaria the week before last.
   
   Ignore the embarrassing hat, it was the best of a bad bunch, and it did the job: I didn’t get heatstroke or sunburnt…

2. The fact that I lost weight on holiday without sticking rigidly to the diet! WOOOT! I recommend spending your days on the beach with a hyperactive German. He collected a group of people, went through us one by one, wearing us out “Play with me! Play with me!” and then started over. My right arm actually got bigger from playing beach ball for hours on end every day :)

3. A million birthday cakes. Never mind that I regained the weight I’d lost on holiday and then some. I make the best cakes! (Modest, I know *g*)

4. Going to Go Ape for my birthday! I loved it! It was terrifying! But also extremely cool! I’m very proud of the fact that I chose the hard option any time there were two routes. And I made it without getting stuck. Extremely glad I lost weight and got fit before doing it ;)

5. The fact that I look lovely and slim in all the Go Ape photos! WOOOT! I love Slimming World! Even if I have slowed down and lost less than a stone in the 5+ months since Christmas after losing almost 2.5 stone in the first 4 months. Never mind. It’s still working :)

6. I’m going to Alton Towers for the first time in my life next week!!! WOOOOT!!! I love roller coasters! Got Friday off, and going up on Thursday night so that we (some work mate and I) can get into the park early. Booked the room this afternoon. It’s going to be SO MUCH FUN!!!

7. I also booked a hotel for my random weekend away on my own in Inverness at the end of August. Scary, but cool. :-D

All this wonderfulness (if it isn’t a word, it should be!) has me making good progress on my todo list. In no particular order:

• Item #21: Gran Canaria has me confident I can make it to the swimming pool on my own. I’d forgotten how much I ADORE being in the water because of the acute mental agony caused by having to get from under the towel to in the water wearing only a swimsuit over my large body. Now I’m just overweight. It’s fine :-D
• Item #4: Although the weight loss has slowed down, having lost weight on holiday gives me extra confidence that I can keep going and see this through to target!
• Item #9: Been to Go Ape. Check.
• Item #8: Trip to Alton Towers booked, should be able to check this item off the list in just over a week.
• Item #7: Weekend away on my own booked. Now I just have to make sure I don’t chicken out and beg someone (anyone!) to come with me ;)

My necklace expresses it best of all :-D

As usual, I have a post planned in my head, but now that it comes to typing it out, I feel like concentrating on something else. So I’m skipping all the minor lessons about skirts and inside-out pants; bras and vaseline; octogenarians and *I heart tea* necklaces; and how to minimise the panic over not being find the plane tickets an hour before you’re going to bed so as to be up bright and early at 4am to catch a plane to Gran Canaria.

The one lesson I want to remind myself of is this:

In failing to reach an achievable target, it’s still possible to achieve something worth being proud of.

My goal (item #1 on my 2011 todo list, in fact) was to run the Bristol 10k in an hour or less today. But I screwed up the training. I didn’t get properly stuck into it like I’d planned to until April.

And then yesterday, I went to my grandmother’s 80th birthday party. And I was perfect with regards to food and drink. Until I stayed just 10 minutes too long and ate a whole load of cake and started picking at all the crisps and sausage rolls I’d managed to ignore before.

So I ended up doing this year’s Bristol 10k in 1:05:33 (at least, that’s how long it took me according to the gizmo I borrowed from my aunt).

I’m still incredibly proud of my time. It’s eight and a half minutes faster than last year’s 1:14:04 (which I was also extremely proud of, given I’d expected to end up walking part of it).

Also, because I knew I was going to fail at the challenge I’d set myself, most of me just wanted to give up and go home. In fact, from about 1.5k onwards most of me had decided that I was definitely walking. If not right now (which was the more popular choice) then at the very least from half way.

So the whole way round, the small part of me that hadn’t given up yet had to convince the rest of myself to run (jog really) rather than walk the next step.

Come on, just a little bit more before you walk.

You know you can run 3 miles no problem, so you can’t walk before that.

The earlier you walk, the longer it’s going to take…

Nearly at the water station now, might as well run to that now.

*Quick glance at gizmo* I’m running 12.5 minute/miles! That’s slower than last year! Now I’m DEFINITELY walking. This sucks, I hate it, I wish I’d stayed in bed!!!

6k, now there’s really no point in stopping. Over half way now…

Ooh, look, there’s the bridge. Remember last year, how great it felt to be running up the bridge and overtaking people? (This year I was still in a much faster pack than at that stage last year, so I had to be content with the fact that I managed to keep up with them all going up the bridge…)

Nearly there…

20 more metres. How about stretching those legs a bit? Sprint! Sprint! Sprint! Sprint!

F***, that was awful.

Good thing I managed to sign up for the half marathon before running the 10k this year. Last year the 10k scared me out of signing up for the half. This year, the thought of the half added to the misery of the 10k ;)

All in all I am extremely proud to have run the whole thing. In spite of the small child in my head whining all the way round. And in spite of the fact that I felt ill from 4k to 6k (I think it was the small child making up reasons not to have to run any more…) And not only did I run the whole way, I improved my average speed by 1.5 minutes per mile over last year!

Life got in the way of the sub one hour 10k this time, but I still feel like a winner and I know I’m going to do one at some point this year. After all, I’m signed up for two half marathons and the Sodbury Slog!

And there goes my inner non-runner again. I can’t type what she’s shouting at me, it’s just too rude ;)

My weekend’s extremely full. I just wrote half a post detailing my every step for you, because that’s what my mind is currently doing to me. But I got bored of writing it. It was taking too much time away from actually obsessing about it properly…

So here’s the overview of my weekend, not all in chronological order:

• Grandmother’s 80th birthday on Saturday
• 10k Sunday morning (EEEEK! ‘Nuff said)
• Friend’s birthday Sunday afternoon
• Driving to Cardiff at 4am on Monday morning to catch a flight to Gran Canaria. Wooot and all, but 4am?! I’m a complete moron.
• At some point I’m going to have to actually pack for Gran Canaria

I’ve started packing, because I don’t trust myself to get up tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon I’ll be in Cardiff for my grandmother’s birthday. And there’s no room in Sunday’s schedule for any packing. But the pressure hasn’t made any difference. I still can’t make myself pack until the very last moment. I’m just not physically capable of it.

At this point my suitcase contains the following items and absolutely nothing else:

• 2 dresses
• 2 skirts
• 2 pairs of shorts
• 3 bikinis
• 1 beach towel
• 2 pairs of 4″ heels
• 3 handbags
• 2 pairs of leggings (1 full length, 1 cropped)
• 1 UK to Europe adaptor

This might make for an interesting holiday… ;)

That’s what my aunt greeted me with after church this morning.

I’ve just had a new cut and colour and apparently she was slightly emotional due to having come to church straight from her night shift. Still, I was a little surprised. (Not in a bad way or anything.)

But brushing my teeth this evening, it struck me again*: while the face in the mirror does look familiar, it’s not my face. It’s a slimmer stranger’s face.

I like it. It’s a nice face.

:)

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* It’s been striking me most evenings. And mornings if the mirror isn’t too steamed up to see my face in it