The grass is greenest where you water it…

love

Are you single right now? If so, when was the last time you were out somewhere, a bar, the gym, the supermarket, on the train – anywhere, where you saw someone that you thought was so attractive that your face went warm? Can you remember? If you can – what did you do about it? Did you bite the bullet and say hello, or even smile at them? Or did you let them pass you by and watch them walk out of your life forever, kicking yourself as they went? I’m hedging my bets on the latter for the most part right?

I’ve been ‘officially’ single for a year next week, and give or take 8 months of ‘trying again’ (I use the term loosely as the only thing that was trying was the situation) I’ve actually met up with and dated 5 people since. Some lasted a few weeks, some didn’t get past the first date, and as you all know by now – one lasted 43 minutes. This is not taking into account the COUNTLESS matches, WhatsApp messages, ‘subtle’ liking of everything posted on social media, slides into DM’s and snatched kisses and swapped phone numbers on nights out. Where has it gotten me? Well – a lot further than you might think.

This week I made a decision – to come off all dating apps and use my precious time more productively. I’ve come off them before of course, and always for the same reason – in my opinion, they don’t work. For some they might, but for me, a traditionalist and eternal optimist at heart, they are most certainly not the way forward for me.

It’s fucking depressing. This is not how I want to meet the love of my life. When you are on a dating site or app you are literally one of perhaps 50 to 100 right swipes, and THOUSANDS of left – instantly writing you off as a ‘no’. This works both ways of course, and when you do match there’s that little spark of excitement… then mostly nothing. BECAUSE NO-ONE FUCKING SPEAKS! No-one wants to ‘submit’ and make the first move. There’s way too much pride involved. Will I look desperate? Will they reply? How long should I wait? Should I ask for their phone number? What if they don’t look like their profile picture? What if they’re a mong? What if they’re a serial killer?

NOPE. Sorry, that shit is not for me. If I like someone – they know it. I’m the person that smiles, I’m the person that will position myself next to you at the bar and strike up a conversation. I am the person that will text first. I am the person that takes that chance – because what exactly have I got to lose by doing so? You get out of life exactly what you put in. So if you think that you’re so fucking special that people should be falling at your feet with little to no effort on your part, then kindly step aside. I have no time for you.

Unfortunately – this attitude seems to be something of an epidemic in 2017. Effort is non-existent, ‘Ghosting’ is such a strong phenomenon that it actually has a name and the art of conversation is reduced to WhatsApp messages that can easily be misconstrued and can cause you to stare at your phone wondering why they haven’t replied for 20 mins, when they were texting back faster than you can left-swipe a man in a hat for most of the day.

Don’t get me wrong, I have met some brilliant people on dating apps, my ex being one of them – but the fact that none of them have actually worked out in the long run makes me re-consider whether this millennial approach to relationships is all it’s cracked up to be. I want to meet someone organically – someone that catches my eye, or me his and we simply have to speak to one another before we disappear forever – you know, like our parents and grandparents had to do it. Those relationships last – because the very foundation on which they were built was REAL, and required effort, commitment and perseverance. When did this stop being a thing? And how can we bring it back?

My attitude toward love and dating took a massive shift when I went to LA. I went for a week, on my own, and the second the plane touched the tarmac and I caught sight of the giant LAX sign – I knew this was the place I would one day call home.

One week I was there, and in that time I was asked out 3 times and went on a date that was one of the best I’ve ever been on. Their approach, attitude and outlook is SO spot on that it physically hurts me to think that people elsewhere are so different. Los Angeles is the city of dreamers, of go-getters and opportunists. It’s the city where people know what they want and they go after it, with everyone around them cheering them on. I had a busker break into ‘All The Small Things’ because I passed him wearing a Blink 182 top. I had a man say hello in Starbucks, then pay for my cup of tea on the sly without me even knowing or waiting for me to acknowledge his kind gesture. I had a guy stop me in the middle of the street to say “sorry to bother you, I just wanted to tell you I think you’re beautiful. Have a great day.” I had a guy chase me down the road to ask for my phone number because he’d seen me in the audience of ‘Mike and Molly’ and had been waiting for almost 3 hours to speak to me…

The date I went on? How’s this for a story… I was taking myself off on a hike up to the Griffith Observatory, and I got SPECTACULARLY lost in one of the more affluent areas of the Hollywood Hills – somewhere near Bruno Mars’ house by all accounts. A car drove past and pulled into a driveway just as I was running out of pavement. As he got out, I asked him where the observatory was, as I was clearly lost. He was GORGEOUS. He told me to go back the way I came, turn left through Los Feliz and take a left at the entrance to the park. I said my ‘Thank You’s, did an about turn and headed down the hill. A few minutes later, a car pulled up next to me (different from the one before) and the same guy wound the window down, and said “listen I’m going that way, I don’t want you getting lost again so can I drop you off on the way?”

This is clearly every parent’s worst nightmare, as it’s drummed into us from a very early age not to get into a car with a stranger. But I knew in my gut that this guy was genuine, and so I gladly accepted. He told me his name was PJ, he’d lived in LA for 4 years (he was Australian) and asked me about myself and my trip so far. When we got to the entrance to Griffith Park, he pulled up and said – without the slightest hint of cheese or smarm – “Take my number in case you want picking up later – or if you fancy doing something before you go home because I’d love to take you out”.

Can you imagine that happening in Birmingham?  Or England? Or anywhere else in the world you have been? More to the point – where else in the world would you get into the car, take the number and say yes to a date? PJ was awesome. It was never going to go anywhere as we went out the day before I flew home. I got back from cocktails at Chateau Marmont 45 minutes before my middle of the night taxi was due to pick me up to take me to the airport, and I literally floated on air all the way home.

This is how it should be.

I’ve tried every dating site and app known to man. PoF, Tinder, Bumble, Match (I got a refund – twice), Zoosk – even ‘Rock Music Lovers’ (the people on there are exactly as you would imagine them to be. I got another refund) and I have met a whole plethora of different guys. Like the one who:

  • Cut our date short so he could get home in time to have his protein shake
  • Had a foreign Facebook name, 3 phones and largely undeliverable WhatsApp messages (then told me I had trust issues, mate – you think?)
  • Said he didn’t want to go and see Linkin Park because “what’s the point? I have their CD.”
  • Popped up on Facebook a week after our date with a profile picture that clearly displayed him lovingly holding hands with another man
  • Was STUNNING – but was a raving coke-head
  • Wanted to make me his phone screensaver after one night (it wasn’t even a date – just met him. Wow!)
  • Bragged “I earned over a grand this week, this glass of rose is on me” (gee thanks bab)
  • Refused to accept it when I ended things because (and I quote verbatim) – “You feel like we should break up, so to you we have, but I feel like we shouldn’t, so we’re not.” WHAT?! How do you argue with that logic?
  • Had “never been out with a black woman and wanted to add it to his list…” First of all, I’m clearly not black, second of all, WTF?!
  • BLATANTLY ignored me when I bit the bullet and said hello via a Facebook message after weeks of liking each other’s stuff. Now he’s commenting and liking my Instagram posts as, of course he’s been deleted.
  • Lives in Los Angeles
  • Was hilarious, told me he loved me after a month then just stopped texting.

And of course, the one who broke my heart into a billion pieces, and made me the woman I am today.

I look back at every single one of these and yet still I have a smile on my face. Why? Because I’m really fucking happy. I am 32 years old, and for the first time in my life I’m not panicking that I’m running out of time, I’m not latching onto every conversation envisaging a future together, I’m not looking for it and I sure as hell am not settling.

I know – blah blah blah the same old shit every thirty-something women churns out to prove that they’re strong, independent bitches who ‘don’t need no man’. Here’s the difference – I mean it when I say I’m happy as I am. I have my shit together, I own my own home, I have two beautiful little kittens (cliché – and what?) I have a job I love, time to see and spend with my friends and loved ones and so many plans on my iPhone calendar that it makes me a little dizzy! Do I want to find love? Of course I do, who doesn’t? I’d love to meet that person that makes my heart skip a beat every time his name appears on my phone, who I can be truly myself with and who makes it all seem so fun and easy – like it should be, and he will come. However he won’t ‘complete me’, or be my ‘other half’, he will be a wonderful bonus to a life that I’m already head over heels in love with.

Day Nine: “Coming Clean – Cloud 9, and how I got here…”

4 years

For the past 9 days I’ve blogged about my journey doing the Clean 9 cleanse, and I’ve mainly made light of it all and spoke about it with undertones of humour and nonchalance. Today’s blog is going to be a little bit different, because I’m going to tell you the real reason why I started it in the first place.

I did it to test and challenge myself, and to put a marker on a journey with food that has lasted a hell of a lot longer than a week and a bit.

Today – Tuesday the 21st March 2017 – marks my 4 year official recovery from a thirteen year-long battle with both Anorexia and Bulimia (I had to go the whole hog, I couldn’t just have one.) I didn’t plan on completing Clean 9 on my anniversary – that was genuinely a happy accident.

I’m telling you this, because I think it’s really important that anyone planning on doing Clean 9 – or any other cleanse, does it for the right reasons. Please, if you’re reading this and you think it’s a fast track to skinny then keep reading and I hope I make you see sense.

It started when I was 15 and stressed the fuck out about my GCSE’s. The only way I felt in control was to restrict what I was eating. It gave me a sense of calm. It didn’t help that I’d just had my belly button pierced, and was worried about showing my stomach to people or wearing little crop tops to display my cool new accessory. I’m not going to go into the whole backlog of my illness, not because it’s irrelevant, because it totally is, but because it’s something I’ve put behind me, and am now comfortable being completely open and honest about it.

This was nothing to do with food – because I fucking love food. All of the food. I was a chef for 3 years which only went on to further deepen my love of the stuff. So the fact that I thought of it as ‘the enemy’ for over a third of my existence is completely baffling to me now – but the enemy is what it was. To recover from that I had to change my mind-set, my thoughts and my habits… forever.

I first started seeing a therapist in 2008, when I got back from gallivanting around the globe as a Holiday Rep, and as soon as I landed back in the UK – and into reality, the inevitable re-lapse happened. I’d had good years and bad years interspersed throughout my adolescence and early adulthood, but fuck me this was rock bottom.

I weighed just over 6 stone, my periods stopped (that was huge motivation to get my shit together), my hair, skin, nails and teeth were awful and I was working out for about 3 hours a day, fuelled by basically no food at all. I remember having a job at the time where I was given a mini bag of Haribo Tangfastics. It took me all morning to summon up the courage to put one of the tiny cherry sweets into my mouth, and within minutes I was hunched over the staff toilet, fingers down my throat and crying my eyes out. Nowadays I can inhale a bag of Haribo Tangfastics in one sitting without giving a single shit – and it’s one of the reasons why they’re my favourites.

I was desperately unhappy, and having cooked in Chalets in France during my time abroad I had decided I wanted to work with food – so I started applying for jobs in professional kitchens – with no experience and a crippling eating disorder. Logic at finest.

I walked into Hotel du Vin, spent the morning making breakfasts, bar snacks and food for a conference that was happening that day, and was offered a job on the spot. My dad thought I was nuts, but I knew that if I was going to overcome this, and stop likening food to Satan, I had to throw myself in at the deep end and surround myself by it. It was the best thing I ever did, and within 2 years I was recovered, the heaviest I’ve ever been (at a meagre 8 ½ stone) and living with my first love.

Then we split up.

To say I went off the rails would be the very definition of the word ‘understatement’, and I quickly spiralled back into old habits by returning to the only coping mechanism I knew. I was living on my own and barely affording basic living expenses  – so food went out the window, with any money that I did have spare being spent going out on a Saturday night and getting smashed. It was during this time that I hit my lowest. I thought I had hit rock bottom before, but this time round I had plummeted through the floor of rock bottom, landed in the basement and was busy digging the floor up to get to the equator of ‘bottom’. This did not go unnoticed, and so my parents (who were SPECTACULARLY supportive throughout) asked me to move back home temporarily until I got back on my feet. I stayed for 5 and a half years.

Therapist number two was fantastic, I’d been signed off work for four months and put on happy pills for a mixture of anxiety, depression, eating disorders, OCD and stress (yes I just had to go back and put those in alphabetical order) – and I had to wait a good 4 months before I could see a specialist equipped to deal with my level of needs. They work in a pyramid system, with the most ‘typical’ at the bottom, and getting more and more bespoke as it went up. They told me I was at the very top.

Then, on a summer afternoon in 2012, I was sitting on my bed, with my computer on in the corner. It was a day I’ll never forget, because it was the day that changed, and ultimately saved my life. I was sat, on my bed, with the packet of sleeping pills that I’d been prescribed and told I could only have half, a maximum of 3 times a week.  There were about 17 left and as I counted, I wondered – would it be enough? At that very second, my computer pinged with a Skype message from my good friend Tamsin. She had sent across an audio book and simply said “Babe – you need to listen to this.”

That book was called ‘The Secret’.

Some of you reading this may have heard of it or even read it – and if you have you will know how the power of The Universe works – and how that one moment in time was meant to happen – right at that very second.  I downloaded it and listened to it all in one go – all 4 hours of it (not like I had anything else to do) and suddenly, EVERYTHING. MADE. SENSE.

Everything that I had been through, I had brought on myself, it wasn’t an accident, or a fluke – it was because I was so unbelievably negative about everything and everyone – and it came back round full circle. Today I have a gratitude journal, and every single day I find ten things that I am thankful for.  Do you know how difficult it is to remain in a negative frame of mind when you make a point of searching for even the tiniest thing that makes you smile?

My eating started to improve almost immediately – yes it took a while, habits are hard to break, but now I realised that the vessel I was walking around in was mine – and I had to love it and bloody well look after it if I was going to get anywhere in life. It was going to carry me to my dreams.

On March 21st 2013, I took my very last happy pill, sat in my very last session with my therapist and listened as she told me how impressed she was with my progress, and how happy she was with my turnaround. I walked out of that office with my head held high and a huge smile on my face.

These days, I continue to treat my body as the precious vessel that it is. I love working out hard and pushing myself to see what I’m capable of. I’m continually amazed by the things it does – without my even thinking about it – like healing, letting me know what it needs, functioning perfectly to keep me alive and healthy. How could I ever have abused it? How could I ever have hated it so much? The notion is, today, one that is completely beyond me.

When I decided to do this Clean 9 cleanse, it was more than a little daunting because there was a huge part of me that knew that I’d be a dab hand at starving myself for 2 days then restricting my calorie intake for a week. It would be an absolute piece of piss – and I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want it to be at all. It took me 3 days to tell me parents that I was doing it, and as they exchanged worried glances, I knew they were thinking the same as me: “It never goes away.”

We were right, it doesn’t ever go away. Ever. There are still days when I look at myself and see the parts of myself I don’t like. I’ll pinch at the flesh on my stomach and thighs and grimace… but that’s because I’m a 21st Century woman, it’s what we’ve been programmed to think. It’s because I’m a 21st Century woman – not a woman with an eating disorder.

In the first few days of Clean 9, aka ‘the fasting days’ that sense of starved autopilot overcame me once again, and where to me it used to feel like euphoria, now it felt like what it is supposed to feel like – my body needed fuel to function. This is the feeling that can take over and become addictive. This is the feeling that leads you down that dark path. I worked very very fucking hard for four solid years to find my inner strength, and once you have those tools in your head that make you listen to reason, calm yourself down and make yourself see sense, you use them for the rest of your life and apply them to everything.

Negativity almost killed me during my twenties, then last year I got called both ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ and ‘the most optimistic person I have ever met’. You’ll never grasp how happy that made me – it showed me just how far I have come. It all boils down to gratitude. All of it. Everything.

I am grateful that I have completed Clean 9. I am grateful that my skin is glowing, my hair and nails are stronger and growing. I am grateful for my soaring energy levels, my restful sleep and my focused mind. I am grateful that I have rid my body of toxins and lost my dependency to alcohol, sugar and caffeine. I am grateful for the amazing results that are exactly what I hoped to achieve by doing this, but most of all, I am grateful for the fact that it has taught me how much I have come to love and cherish my body over the past few years, for my full recovery, and for The Universe showing me – once again, that I am capable of achieving absolutely anything I set my mind to.

 

 

 

Day Eight: “The home stretch…”

eleven-times-two-weights

This morning didn’t start off well. Upon gathering up my supplies for the day and checking I had all the things on the Clean 9 checklist (still relying on it – although not nearly as much), I discovered that I was one scoop short on my protein powder. Well done Forever Living, I’ve measured this out to the bastard letter for the past week and you give me ONE LESS SCOOP! Why? WHY? I am SO close to the end of this, and you just decide to go “fuck you Shelly – no breakfast for you on Day Nine” *evil laugh* Wicked. Nice one.

Somewhat miffed, I set out to work and had recovered from my initial grouch when the bag I have been using to lug all my protein measures, water, free foods and tubs of carefully measured out Aloe gave up the ghost on me in the middle of Grand Central Station in Birmingham. As it fell to the ground with a thud, I rolled my eyes skywards (such restraint for 8am on a Monday morning) and gathered it all up to carry it around in my arms like the Americans do in the movies. I looked far less cool then them tho, I reckon ‘addled bag lady’ was the vibe I was emanating in droves to be honest.

Once on-board train number two, I checked for damage, and wondered why half of my protein shake (and food source that was to last me till 1pm) had somehow disappeared into the bottom section – which contained the portion for my lunch.

Fuck.

I waited until I got to work (clever) before opening it at my desk to see what had happened (not so clever). You can probably picture the scene  – as the last remnants of protein shake on the penultimate day of this cleanse flamboyantly pirouetted out of the bottom of the (smashed – obviously) shaker ALL OVER the office floor. Double fuck.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” *emits small whimper*

Cleaning up protein shake first thing on a Monday morning whilst my stomach rumbled wildly away like some kind of satiric accompanying theme tune is NOT the way I wanted to start my week – but me being me, the only thing to do was see the funny side (and hot foot it to Tesco for two boiled eggs in a pot!)

Aside from this, today was the first day I woke up STARVING hungry, last night I very nearly caved, as the craving for honey on toast, beans on toast… toast on toast became almost overwhelming. How did I overcome it? I ate a teaspoon of peanut butter. *inserts side-eye emoji* That’s the closest I’ve come to ‘cheating’ during this whole debacle, and I still went ‘healthy’!

As Clean 9 draws to a close I’m getting less restrictive, I’ve lost another lb and another 2 inches since Friday (so 3 days) and the importance of hitting my quota of calories is becoming more and more important, especially as I workout far harder, and far more frequently than the programme suggests… and also because, you know, my main calorie intake for the day resulted in a puddle of misery on dark oak laminate before 9am.

As it’s Monday, I like to make sure I get a workout in to start the week off right, so I gathered up my kettlebell and handweights (which are laughable in comparison to what I’ve been lifting at the gym, but you have to work with what you’ve got right?) and did this workout video from Fitness Blender on YouTube (another favourite channel). They’re not wrong when they say it’s brutal – and 15 mins in I was thankful that I only had puny weights!

So I have one day left (sans protein shake) and I’m feeling, well to put it one way… ‘alive’. I feel better than I have in a very long time. I have seemingly boundless energy, I’ve shrunk substantially (I’m looking at this as a platform to now put on muscle mass properly and get my weight back up healthily) and I have a spring in my step that coincides beautifully with today – the official first day of Spring.

Here is to the last day tomorrow, already having dinner plans on Wednesday and the start of a health and fitness journey I desperately needed the kick up the ass to embark on.

Cheers Clean 9, you’ve done exactly what it said on the tin. I’m going to carry on with all the good habits you have taught me, and look very much forward to the summer and a healthier, stronger, far more bouncy (especially ‘dat ass’) Shelly.

Day Seven: “The light at the end of the tunnel…”

IMG_1273Day Seven. A WHOLE week without sugar, caffeine, salt and bread… and you know what, I don’t even miss it. Yeah sure there’s still a slight hankering for a chocolate HobNob after dinner, but I don’t miss tea and coffee at all, I don’t feel like I need it to get me through the day any more.

The weekend has been a lot harder to stick to the routine set out in the Clean 9 booklet, with morning and mid-morning having a tendency to merge into one when you’re not sat at a desk working and can keep track of time. It’s also a LOT harder to get 8 glasses of water down your neck when you’re running around doing stuff – I’ve found that if I fill a bottle of water, I can count a lot easier, and take it with me.

I split my meals into two again, and changed up yesterday’s plate of deathly boredom a little by making a raw spinach and mushroom omelette instead.

IMG_1280

I’m MUCH less rigid with it, because I know the stuff I’m eating is healthy, and I’ve got a good idea of serving sizes after 4 days of weighing everything I put on my plate!

So I have two days left, and at this point I’ve realised that clean eating and healthy living is a piece of piss when you put your mind to it. The trick is to switch up your meals and experiment a little with them to stop you from getting bored. Am I going to stick to it when I’m done? I’d say 95% yes – the other 5% will be filled with Haribo Tangfastics, Chocolate HobNobs and the occasional Chinese takeaway, as it should be.

Day Six: “Just call me butter ‘cuz I’m on a roll…”

wonder-woman

I appreciate the irony of the heading of this post – but aside from the fact I can have neither butter or a roll, the terminology is bang on. I am so focused and driven on this cleanse (a happy side effect – but also how I am anyway), and with how it is going and where it is taking me, that frankly, I’m starting to bore myself.

I looked at my Instagram feed last night and it’s basically leaves and pictures of me in my gym gear. Gone are the memes, powerful woman quotes and general randomness that normally makes up my feed (and shows, you know, my personality) – it’s all replaced with images akin to that within the pages of Women’s Health… and even they have fashion and make-up on the go! I do not want to be a person that has nothing else to say about myself, and if you follow this blog for long enough, I promise you you’ll see who I am outside of writing about a fucking cleanse!

I have an obsessive personality, I am very much “go all in or get all out”(as I have said many a time, as it’s a phrase I live by. That and “it will all be fine”- I digress.) and this is something that, when taken seriously, can very quickly take over your life. You have to dedicate yourself fully to the cause and basically follow it to the letter if a: you want results and b: you want to blog about it accurately ha!

I’ve signed up for this, and I’ve also decided to deliver an entry on here each day documenting my journey, and I can understand how I could quickly be perceived as being a right nause once the novelty has worn off, but it’s 9 days – and I want people who are thinking about doing a Clean 9, to read this, see it from an honest point of view – and decide if it’s something they want to do themselves. I’ve already had a number of messages asking more about it, and also a lot of ‘well done’s’ from the people who have done it themselves already – to all you guys. Thank you – it’s spurring me on!

So, onto Day Six…

I woke up this morning before my alarm went off at around 6.40am. More importantly, I woke up, and I GOT UP. That#s right, 6.40am on a Saturday morning… I’ve changed I have.

By 8am I was dressed and on my way to a spin class – something I have never, or could never have envisaged myself doing before the past month or so, but you know what, if you want change, you actually have to change your behaviour. Act accordingly, change your habits and find a better path. It’s the only way you’re going to ever get anything back.

Now – remember the first 2 days when I was horribly sick in the morning? It’s not the Aloe – it’s the Forever Therm tablets. It says in the booklet that these can be taken with free foods. Listen to me right here and now, this is not to be taken as a suggestion – you HAVE to have them with food. I thought I was getting used to the Aloe on Day 3 – turns out I wasn’t sick because I had lined my stomach with a protein shake. This morning, I didn’t have anything before my spin class – just the Aloe and the Forever Therm, and low and behold, like clockwork half an hour later I was doubled over in the street. One more time now – have that tablet with or after food! Your stomach, and your local street cleaners will thank you for it.

Jenni and I did a 45 minute spin class, during which I realised how much I’ve abandoned cardio in favour of the weights of late. I’m aiming for a better shape, I’m slight AF anyway, and so any definition or ‘curves’ that I have are muscle. When I was younger I did purely cardio, and wondered why I was straight up and down, then I discovered weight training – the beginnings of an ass appeared and I sacked off anything else. Today taught me that I need to balance the two, cardio is just as important as strength training, and they go hand in hand with one another. Spin hurt, but afterwards the rush of endorphin’s that I’ve massively missed out on hit me like a truck, and I felt AWESOME – like I could take on the world – and so we went and did another 90 mins weight training. I am definitely going to feel that tomorrow, but there is something vindicating about the pain of post workout ache for me. It shows me I am actually making a difference and creating change.

I’ve also been really struggling to hit my 600 calorie food quota – not sticking to it, reaching it. Do you know how much food you have to eat to get 600 calories on a plate and still eat healthily? It’s nigh-on impossible. After chatting with Jenni (my Clean 9 companion, amongst other things) she reminded me that you can split it into two, 300 calorie meals to make sure you’re getting them in. So I had poached eggs with avocado and wilted spinach – which was boring as fuck. I longed for some bacon and a couple of slices of toast with it, but with it hitting 268 calories on it’s own, I powered through and washed it down with the second shake of the day. It was, so far the least satisfying meal I’ve had during this whole process. Hell it might even be the least satisfying meal I’ve had in my life – but it did the job. For dinner I had already decided on chicken, sweet potato and salad, then I saw this meal on Buzzfeed / Facebook, so I adapted it to fit in with ‘what I am allowed’ and it turned out to be lush (see below).

buzzfeed-meals

clean-9-300-calorie-meal

I am sleeping better, performing better throughout the day, and my usual default setting of being absolutely shattered is a thing of the past. I’m more alert because I’m well rested, and nothing anymore seems unreachable or unachievable. Because I have the energy again to do things, I can actually be bothered to do them, and it’s given me a little sense of my much sought after goal -to be my very own ‘Wonder Woman’. To do it all, be it all and have it all.

Clean 9 is not a miracle cure, it’s a way to reset and change your habits, and keep you on track to achieve you goals.. My goals in life go WAY beyond what the numbers on a scale say, and if I can put my mind to, and achieve something as mentally challenging as a cleanse, with it’s withdrawal, dedication and determination, then I’m pretty damn sure I can achieve anything else I want in life too.

(Wonder Woman Image credit: http://www.dccomics.com/graphic-novels/wonder-woman-%E2%80%9877-vol-1)

 

Day 5: “4 Days, 4lbs, 4 Inches…”

First off, let me get this off my chest before my OCD riddled brain pops off my shoulders and makes a mess that I would have to immediately clean up. I am SO pissed off the I got triple 4’s on day 5! Why? WHY?! My blog is Eleven Times Two, AKA ‘1 1 1 1’ – FOUR OF THEM! Saaaaake!

Anyway, I’m officially more than half way through, and I’m feeling pretty great in all honesty. I’m not really going to write much today – I’m going to let the below picture and figures do the talking for me… (I’ve ‘censored’ my underwear because this isn’t that kind of blog and I’m not that basic).

day 1 & 5

Day One: Chest: 31″ | Waist: 28″ | Hips: 34″ | Weight: 7 stone, 9lbs

Day Five: Chest: 30″ | Waist: 26″ | Hips: 33″ | Weight: 7 stone, 5lbs

That’s a grand total loss of 4 inches all and 4lbs – in FOUR DAYS. I have 5 more to go – there’s going to be nothing left of me! I’m going to be so devo’d if my ass disappears, I’ve been deadlifting and squatting like a bitch for the past month, and it was finally starting to appear! Me thinks a major lower body session is in order tomorrow morning.

Thay being said, it’s late and I have a spin class at 9.30am…

Day Four: “So I think this might actually be working…”

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Day Four: HALFWAY (ish – maths is not my strong point) THROUGH. I woke up, dying of thirst again, so either that’s a: a side effect, b: I’m not drinking enough or c: someone broke in and poured a bucked of sand in my mouth while I was asleep. It mostly felt like the latter – I don’t care how unlikely it is.

I am NOT a morning person, that’s part of the reason I’m doing this, aside from re-setting my eating habits, I’m trying to get some semblance of a sleeping pattern on the go. The fact that this is something I’ve been trying to achieve since my parents stopped telling me when to go to bed as a child is irrelevant. So far this is the hurdle I’ve stumbled at the most, and I’ve not yet managed to put my head on my pillow before 1am this week. Even still, the difference in my complexion is already pretty noticeable – I’m only catching about 4-5 hours shut-eye a night, and STILL the dark circles under my eyes have improved enormously. Imagine what could happen if I only went to bed at a decent hour?!

Thanks to the extra shake in the morning, I’m no longer hungry throughout the day, like – at all. Also, (and I’m throwing an upwards grateful glance to The Universe here) I only have to drink the Aloe gel first thing in the morning now, so the worst part is over straight away leaving me to crack on with my day. I don’t think I could have coped with 4 times a day for the entire 9 days, my tolerance to it was actually reducing with every mouthful. When people say you get used to it – don’t believe them, IT’S ALL LIES! That stuff would test even the strongest of gag reflexes.

My energy levels are pretty much through the roof and I feel pretty wired (for want of a better word). Instead of getting home from work and wanting to collapse on the sofa, I got in, put my gym kit on and jumped around my living room for 40 mins to a Pop Sugar YouTube video (go and subscribe to their channel, they’re awesome) – and I actually felt like I was working each muscle individually. Even though it wasn’t particularly difficult, I was a lot more mindful about each move and rep, and I could have easily done another hour at least, BUT – everything in moderation (she says – doing a cleanse). I realise I’m on seriously reduced calories, and I want to do this sensibly. I’ve not weighed or measured myself since day one, but I know I’ve dropped a few lbs, I can mainly tell from this brand new jawline I have acquired. To be honest that’s quite terrifying in just 3 days – I’m worried that “I’m waaasting awaaaaay Sal!” (If you don’t get that reference, we can no longer be friends).

Dinner was grilled chicken, brown rice and veg, and the Jamaican in me DESPAIRED at not being able to use any coconut oil or salt, and so I used black pepper, garlic and ginger to prevent it from being the blandest thing I’ve ever cooked,and it turned out well, I’m getting quite good at this! I am missing a lot of the little things tho when it comes to cooking, and as Hot Pepper Sauce is also a banned substance, my menu for the next week is basically fucked.

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It’s now 9.40pm, and I’ve worked out, cooked, eaten AND written this blog entry – pass me my to-do list because I’ve got a lot of things to cross off! I decided this morning (after being a Negative Nelly yesterday), that if I am actually serious about changing my behaviour, then I have to catch myself on when I’m setting off down the wrong path. I gave myself a massive kick up the ass this morning, and promised myself to go all in, or get all out. No more moaning (unless I can do so in a particularly hilarious way for the sake of you guys reading this), I just need to step up and get shit done. It worked. This extra focus has been channelled into being productive, getting more done in my day and having the time to sit, regroup and reflect on the day gone by… and you know what? Today was a good one.