This weekend I had bread with a full English breakfast. I had a homemade pub burger with twice-cooked chips and onion rings. I ate a large helping of paghetti Bolognese with garlic bread. I had the most amazing burritos ever. I also ended the weekend’s eating with some scrumptious hunter’s chicken (bacon and cheddar included!). Oh, and on the side I have some chocolate brownies, several blood oranges, some bran flakes and well over twenty cans of lager.
It all sounds horrific doesn’t it? Well… it’s not. It’s all part of the plan. Let me explain how all of this came to be.
This past weekend, two of my best friends and I, along with our girlfriends, went away to South Derbyshire to a secluded holiday cabin that came complete with a decent workout space and a hot tub. This holiday was booked last November, and therefore I knew I had to carefully consider my actions when I started the war against the chubber on New Year’s Day. I always planned to indulge on this holiday and to forget the diet whilst I was out of my normal routine. The way I see it, if I go away to enjoy myself and completely strip the experience of the indulgences that are customary of a weekend retreat, can it be called a retreat? Also, will it really benefit my attitude towards becoming healthy, which should be fun and rewarding, rather than a punishment?
I promised myself at the beginning of all this that I was going to systematically destroy the chubber, and I am doing. In my day-to-day proceedings I haven’t fell out of sync, I haven’t cheated any of my rules (look below), and I haven’t given in despite many temptations. I am walking restraint and I am stronger than I have ever been. That, however, could all be brought down by the bitterness that would arise at having holidayed whilst not enjoying myself. If I allow the chubber to strip me of enjoyment, then he has won. I would eventually crack and either eat my weight in fatty foods…or I would stop eating out of desperation. That’s how dietary/ mental illnesses start, by letting extremes breed extremes. I am a man of extremes, let me tell you. Instead, I am dictating the war by allocating my time off from the front line and by making a sting return also.
My proudest aspect of this post is that I can tell you that I have come home and I am not ravenous, nor am I feeling robbed of enjoyment. I have also lost a pound! I had a wonderful weekend, with wonderful people and wonderful food. Now I am moving all my stuff into my new home with my girlfriend and I am building a home gym that I can’t wait to start using. I lost a stone (and a bit more) in the confines of my bedroom at my parent’s home; imagine what I can do with an equipment and space upgrade. It’s game on now. I can’t wait to show you the picture I took of me at the start along with the one that will be taken when I reach 15 stones and Chubcon 3 is engaged.
Speaking of Chubcon, I am currently in Chubcon 5, which is the chubber threat level that is dictating the rules I follow. I have made silly image based rule charts for my fridge, just to keep visitors to my new house informed. Look at the images below and you can see the rule sets I have made for myself. These will probably be amended in the future depending on muscle gain/ fitness and such. But for now, I’m hurtling towards Chubcon 3, and the chubber is bleeding out.
Thanks for reading!
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