How I made 5:2 my bitch
Posted by Sophie Westrope on March 16, 2015 · Leave a Comment
I HAVE spent the last few years holding onto what my sister and I have penned ‘girlfriend gain’; the inevitable spare tyre or saddle bags that come as a package deal with your new partner and your mutual love of carbohydrates and saturated fats.
The awful thing is though that my girlfriend days ended over two years ago… But unfortunately the several extra pounds did not leave as quickly as the love did. When I was doing the long-distance dance with my ex-boyfriend I blamed the loneliness for my midnight Ben and Jerry’s and his penchant for eating out (and eating in!) whenever he flew home. Then I blamed the breakup for my comfort binge eating. Then I blamed my dissertation and final deadlines at university. Then I blamed starting an office job. Then I tried to say I was ‘built to be this size’ and ‘perhaps I’m just curvy’. And I plucked out every excuse in the book and wrapped myself up in it like a security blanket and settled in for the long winter and stuffed my face with carrot cake and cried over photographs of me swanning around nightclubs in a size 8 grinning from ear-to-ear.
As I handed down all of my beautiful and now seemingly miniscule dresses and shorts and teeny tiny tops to my svelte little sister a part of me felt like it had curled up and died. I found myself wearing Spanx underneath, well, EVERYTHING and eating in secret out of pure shame. I’d refuse to go shopping, living in fear of the changing rooms and their mirrored perils. I tried to accept that maybe Mother was right, maybe I would just be ‘the curvier one’ (a label I HATED) alongside my sisters. But then my body started to detest me and I returned its hatred. It would punish me for filling it with greasy pizza and I cried every time I saw the reflection of my food baby protruding out of the few pairs of trousers I could manage to do up. My clothes dug in, my thighs chafed and I got out of breath walking up the stairs. And while no, admittedly I was not morbidly obese, I was overweight and miserable.
After being a glutton for sport for far too long I finally had an epiphany one night whilst lying in bed stifling my sobs. Enough was enough. Nobody’s got anything done curled up in the foetal position feeling sorry for themselves, have they?!
I had shared my many whiney woes with a good friend and after discussing allsorts of fads and gimmicks he suggested I try the 5:2 Diet. One of my best friends had had some successes with it in the past also so I knew it worked but would it work for me? As with most things, I checked Amazon for any sign of reasonably priced life and found a set of books by an author who had simplified the diet for those of us who are more nutritionally challenged. It seemed a lot less daunting with some lament’s terms literature to consult.
Initially the idea of ‘fasting’ made my stomach feel like it was going to fall out of my butt. But when you realise it’s not a complete fast, but a doable 500 calorie cap two times a week it seems a lot less like a prison-style punishment. Leaving you with five other days to ‘feast’ or ‘feed’ and absolutely enjoy anything you wish. I invested in a smoothie maker, bought skinny soups and started simple with liquids on my fast days. I also tracked my ‘normal’ eating days and try to stick to around a 1500kcal limit on those days.
I peed for Great Britain on the first few fast days and my stomach growled at me like a broken record but training myself to take a break from stuffing my face felt like such an achievement and somewhat like a relief. It felt refreshing to not plan my day around my next meal or sugary snack. With the help of MyFitnessPal and stringent meal planning I really put my back fat into it.
And guess what? It’s bloody worked! I am admittedly not finished yet with my progress and reaching my goal weight but I have reached milestones since the beginning of this year. Weighing in on the morning of my first ever fast day on New Year’s Day 2015 I tipped the scales at 12 stone 2 pounds. And now, over 75 days later I weigh a healthier 10st 6lbs. My BMI is also now in the healthy zone instead of the realms of overweight for my height and I’m still working towards my 9st 10lb target for ‘goal weight’.
I didn’t just rely on intermittent fast days to ‘fight the flab’. I’ve also been exercising regularly – using both cardio and weight training in my local gym – and am enjoying parading around in my new significantly smaller sized Lycra. No more men’s t-shirts and old leggings for me! I have upped my fast days from two a week to three to keep the weight loss ticking over and it fits in perfectly with my routine. They say for every fast day you do in your first month you should lose a pound. And you’ll be surprised what you can cram into a 500kcal limit! And just think, after you’re done with your fast day you’re back to eating what you want the very next day. It’s almost like a temporary diet. And it strangely makes you crave good wholesome grub, not just the newest item on the McDonalds menu… (Although I still wouldn’t – and don’t – say no to the odd 99p cheeseburger)
I used to hate those insufferable girls who went on and on about their diet or healthy eating (‘#cleaneating #fitfam’) but I have unashamedly morphed into one. And I’ve managed to encourage others to join me on 5:2 and seen their progress and just absolutely beamed with pride because I finally realise that I don’t have to wear a bigger size and cut the label out or try and starve myself before a night out or breathe in all evening. I’m doing something about it finally.
And oh baby, it feels so good!