Last week was a shock on the scales: +2 lb from my starting point. Not good. Not where I want to be.
It wasn’t so much the baking (although that did have an effect). It wasn’t so much the stress (not nearly as bad as it was). It might have been the lack of walking: travel and a cold meant that I only got to 16.64 miles. But I knew what it was really: the ‘see food and eat it’. Too much snaffling up of bits and pieces, too many extra helpings at meals.
Earlier this year, I realised that although I love making all sorts of Christmassy things, I rarely have time to do them in November or December. So why not try a bit of Christmas makery whenever I had a moment?
July turned out to be rubbish. Too many things to do, too much pressure from husband not being well. In hindsight, any month where he had that many tests (MRI scan, PET, scan, endoscopy, blood tests, lots of visits to various doctors) wasn’t going to be great.
Add to that: a funeral. A merciful release for a neighbour with advanced dementia, but still a funeral.
Add to that: generally feeling out of sorts and unsettled.
It’s taken until a week into August for me to throw off July and make some progress. Husband finally got a diagnosis in mid-July – polymyalgia – and a daily low-dose steriod has him back to very much like his usual self, but it’s taken me longer to dig myself out a bit.
Weight: stayed the same, on reflection not too bad considering that I only managed 11 miles of walking this week.
Craft: mostly jigsaws. Always feel like a huge indulgence, but why not? An occasional recreation.
Exercise: coming off a week off with a mildly sprained ankle. Pleasant walk across the water meadow yesterday, first time in ages that I felt able to enjoy the walk for itself rather than grimly heading into it to earn my steps.