I love my bathroom scales

These new weighing scales are so much better than the old ones; but much to Mrs Kates disgust they tell the truth - unlike the old ones which could give you any number of different results in an attempt to pacify you. But 'Old Scales' was rather devious too, he was generously giving everyone an extra couple of pounds to carry around.

Had to put 2 extra holes in the belt for my favourite pair of jeans which I wore to the Trafford Centre yesterday; a similar thing happened the other day with a pair of 'Bobs' trousers - down to a 35 inch waist now.

Oh ... well... whatever!

Had a break from the grindstone, Mrs Kate and I had a day out shopping at the Trafford Centre - a sort of ambling lunch and a nice wander around the shops sort of day. Got a nice top from Debenhams, and spied a pair of black satin leggings lurking on the bargain rail in H&M in my (new) size.

But we were so relaxed as we were wandering and chatting together that we both failed to notice in time a neighbour that works at the centre walking towards us; (I think) he initially looked at me and then looked at Mrs Kate, obviously recognising her. He didn't say anything, not even an acknowledging nod towards her, he wouldn't be certain who I was and as likely that is how it will remain..... but rather bizarrely I feel a strange feeling of 'whatever' rather than any worry.

He's a nice sort of guy and he's unlikely to spread any rumour or gossip (we think!) and he lives far enough up the street to not be aware of any further evidence to corroborate any suspicions he might have; but clearly we've had the closest 'shave' ever!

Feeling 'firsty'

Last Wednesday I achieved another first without initially realising it; I just had to have an outing to the Village before I suffocated and as it turned out I was out in the Village with no real plans, and I was Betty no mates. It's a strange feeling, to go out for an evening in the Village without any plans to be with someone or any prior arrangements to meet with any of the 'gang'; I guess the latter were all partied-out from a mass visit to Pink Punters over the previous weekend.

But I occupied myself by initially calling into Taurus to book next months Angels meal, and then to Velvet next door to have something eat and to book the Angels Christmas meal. Service was as always, brilliant and I was really amazed at how my meal arrived within 5 minutes of ordering. Afterwards I dropped by in Concorde and spent some time talking to Tamsin who had only just come out to her partner in the previous couple of weeks (good luck girl!). Astrid and and Mrs Astrid were there too having just returned from the continent, Marrianne, Leanne and a couple of others... but a definite shortage of the usual suspects. But no evening in the Village is complete without a visit to Naps (where else!) where I danced quite happily on my own for a little over an hour before I decided I better walk back to the car whilst I could still feel my feet.

Just had to get petrol.
Having that 'first' reminded me of the last big 'first' I had when Karen came to visit in September. I was on my way to pick her up from the train station when I realised I needed to get petrol for my car - either that or suffer the excruciating embarrassment of running out of petrol. All the possible options flashed through my mind including going back home to disguise myself as 'Bob' - no time to do that as Karens train was due in 5 minutes. So I took the bit between my teeth and called in to my regular petrol station to fill up.

I'd done the fill-the-car-up 'first' before, but that was at a petrol station some where in the middle of Manchester where I supposed they probably got a lot of girls calling in. But this time, it was right on the door-step, the one I use quite regularly. And it wasn't at the best of times; despite it being mid-morning and between rush-hours, it was busy with Highways workers getting sandwiches, mums on the way to the shops, and some oyke who was just simply hanging around by the door. But despite all this, I felt quite calm. I knew going to pay would be the difficult bit. I was still calm even when I walked past the oyke and the Highways workers, they never gave me a second look; no smirk, no pointing fingers, it was brilliant... they hadn't read me.

I thought I was really handling this bit very well, it was only when I tried to get my credit card out of my purse when I realised how my hands were shaking (doh! - don't let me down now!). But the guy behind the till was lovely; of course he read me - I guess I'm passable at a distance but not up close. But despite this he still addressed me with 'do you have a Nectar card, love?'.... 'No, just the receipt will be fine' I said in my softest girly voice (which I amazed even myself here as it's not something I've ever practiced - though can do a reasonable Julian Clary!). And then it was back to the car, even holding the door for another lady; no startled looks, no stares... just passing as another women - simply brilliant!

2 to the power of 177 and falling....

.... the measure of improbability aboard the starship 'Heart of Gold'; or for the uninitiated, from Douglas Adams fabulous book the 'HitchHikers Guide To The Galaxy'. But in this case, my weight approaching the mostly improbable stage of twelve and half stone in only a few weeks of trying; yes I'm at just 2 lbs short of my next target!

Over this last week there's been the release of a study of accident figures involving women on cycles. Of the cycling community, about 72% are men, the rest rather oddly enough are made up by women. But the interesting fact comes out with the number of women cyclists involved in accidents with large articulated lorries; in London, of the 8 fatalities that occurred, 7 were women. The study puts it's findings down to that women don't take as many risks as men, effectively women won't go to the front of the traffic queue at traffic lights where a lorry can see them; opting for the mistaken safety of the space between the kerb and the side of the lorry - so when the lorry turns left.... it just doesn't bear thinking about. The full article can be seen here http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/magazine/8296971.stm

I finally had my own face-to-face exchange of words with 'white van man' the other day; it had to happen, it was only a matter of time with cycling to and from work so often. I was quite civil, I didn't swear, I just suggested he should 'WAKEY WAKEY'! as he attempted to run me over from a side road I was passing to my left (he actually didn't look). But he didn't take too kindly to what was clearly a good piece of advice, because exactly like the logic of the Great Bugblatter Beast of Traal which spends most of it's life with it's head in the sand in the belief that 'if you can't see it, it can't see you' he simply abused me. So after that, I made Blind Pugh proud and left him the mark of the black spot right on the bonnet of his van - another one to add to the growing list.

Stay safe out there girls!

Oh eckie-thump!

I've just checked the NHS website for what my ideal weight should be; they say 11 stone! (158 lbs). Now that's what I call a target! And is this realistic and achievable? - by me? .... yeah, right! ... and probably the day after Lucifer skates to work!

Lucky 13 (for a change)

I did it! I did it! I did it!

I've reached (below) my target weight of 13 stone (182 lbs). I was rather surprised to find myself to be exactly 13 stone on 3 consecutive days in the run-up to, and over the weekend. Today, I weighed in at 12 stone, 13 and 3/8 pounds (181.375 lbs) which means it's still on the way down... yay! (check out the picture - taken 4 days ago).

But was this a realistic target,?... was it too easy?.... are you kidding!!!! only last week I was getting disheartened at the lack of any real progress and suddenly (woof!) it started dropping off again as I smashed through the imaginary wall. A little over 12 months ago, I was at 14.5 stone (beached whale); now I've reached my first target. Back then I sometimes couldn't sleep 'cos I felt so uncomfortable (big fat tummy!), and I was getting out of breath just walking up stairs. And hot days.... better that we don't go there!.

But back to 'if this is a real target'... hmmm yes! I think quite often we set ourselves something that is quite unrealistic to achieve in what we want to do. Sure, it's good to have dreams, but we must have a plan that is realistically achievable with milestones that give us those little wins to keep us amused and satisfied that we're making progress. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day....

So what IS my actual target; well, as a dream... to get beyond my recommended best... something to do with being the right-weight-for-my-height sort of thing. Casting my mind back to when that was last described to me ... I would just love to be better than 12 stone... but I know that isn't achievable in one go so my next target is 12.5 (175 lbs). As long as it keeps going the way it has over the last week, I'm certain I'll make it, but still with one eye on the real trophy - 12 stone or less!

There's only one drawback with losing weight though, I'll need a new wardrobe - I only discovered on Friday that my favourite white jeans needed an extra hole in the belt ... much to Mrs Kates disgust!.

Blogs like buses...

... nothing for ages and two come all at once.

I've been trying to lose weight; there was some promising activity during the initial stage of my 'market research' but I've since kind of hit a wall - I can't seem to make it below 13 stone, with my weight sort of moving up and down by a couple of pounds around the 13.25 mark.

I'm trying really hard not to snack or have such indulgences whilst out (although I do have a weakness for chocolate Salvas in Velvet!); I've even been sticking to 'just soup' for lunch in the works canteen. So I've tried cycling to work for the last couple of weeks; an impressive 'round trip of about 15 miles, come rain or shine.

Apparently I seem to be gaining weight in leg-muscle whilst losing a little off my waist. Net result - no change!

But let me tell you about the lunatics us cyclists have to endure...

Drivers that don't give you enough room - especially 'white van man', one of whom got 'the' bang on the side of his van as a result - getting one of those off a cyclist means you're marked for life; a black spot that Blind Pugh would be proud of.

Taxi drivers who get offered guidance about perhaps signaling left before coming to a stop in front of you; that one is also associated with 'I-can-just-overtake-you-and-turn-left driver' who often receives very exceptional guidance from a cyclist.... I really live for those (NOT!).

Some dog owners don't escape special advice - especially those that like 'Rover' to have the freedom of running around the designated cycleway... I'm quite pleasant in that I ask them to 'Please put it on a lead' as Rover tries to feast on my rear wheel.

But my all time favourite is 'Mum on a mission'; she really couldn't give a flying fig about other road users let alone cyclists. 'Mum on a mission' can often be found outside schools, blocking other road users whilst they're dropping off little dorrit, opening doors in front of cyclists, pulling off without signaling whilst you're passing them.... and the list goes on; suffice to say they're worse than 'white van man'.

Ok I'll stop now... grumpy old woman mode off.