Let me now take a step back and continue the happy story of health, weight and fitness. I was at my third appointment with the undoubtedly eccentric Elizabeth Gibaud. By then, I was feeling significantly better. Still no panic attacks, still no reflux and a real feeling of boundless energy and well being. Plus, she told me that I'd lost a further twelve pounds in the preceeding two weeks which was thrilling. This was the first time in around 15 years that I'd been able to lose weight and stick to any sort of diet. Ironically, I was helped by the fact that the health problems of him indoors meant that he was also on mission so together, we were unstoppably restrained.
"I'd like you to continue with this detox diet for another four weeks" she said. The impact of her words was palpable. How could I go seasonless, red meatless, dessertless and alcohol free for a whole 'nother month? My head dropped with a bang onto her table as I moaned about the lack of selection on the diet. We started to negotiate. "Could I add in a bit of salmon and tuna?" I asked. "And what about some seasoning? I'm going on holiday in 3 and a half weeks and I can't keep this up in France!" I shrieked. At that stage, Elizabeth did suggest various ways of marginally broadening out the diet whilst telling me, in kindly but no uncertain terms, that I still had a way to go. My bone structure was small and I really should be a much more tiny person. In fact, at that stage of being 12 pounds lighter she was looking for me to shift a further 20 to 22 pounds. I should go back to see her before going on holiday. Good oh, now at least I only had three weeks of this to look forward to.
It wasn't going to be easy. Our whole social life revolves around eating and drinking with friends, colleagues, clients, alone, on holiday - wherever and whatever we do, we eat. Ordering carefully in restaurants and not drinking any wine was taking it's toll on my credibility and my patience. Anyway, I resolved to be as good as I could and focus on how I'd feel when I'd hit the target.
Three weeks later I was back and, having been pretty good about sticking to the diet, I was now feeling amazing. Everything was better, my complexion, my hair, my demeanour, my mood. I felt better and happier than I done for years. The panic attacks were still being held at bay and I hadn't had to take a drug for reflux since I started this whole deal. People were beginning to comment on the weight loss and tell me that I looked totally different. I could even sort of see it myself and I knew how I was feeling.
Elizabeth was thrilled. "You've taken to this like a duck to water" she said as she weighed me, "and you've lost another ten pounds. Don't go too mad in France and you'll keep it off. Come back to see me in a month" she added. I took a deep breath. "Elizabeth," I said "when I first came here I didn't like you at all but now I think I LOVE you" I told her. "I feel as though you've handed me the missing magic key to losing weight and feeling better" I explained. Elizabeth was pleased. "Take care and come back to see me in a month" she said, "and we'll take it from there".
Over the next month, things slipped a little. The holiday in France, the dinner parties, a hectic social diary all conspired to put huge temptations in my way. I had a few glasses of wine, I even ate some dessert and I allowed myself to have some red meat but despite all of those, I was still being fairly careful. I even had one mini-panic attack and had to take a Rennie after a humdingingly indulgent meal.
At my latest Elizabeth appointment earlier this week I found that despite all of the above, I'd lost a further two pounds over the month. Not a disaster but I was mildly disappointed in myself. Increased exercise meant that I definitely looked different and I feel that the weight is redistributing itself around my frame. Elizabeth suggested that I make a last effort by doing the 'detox' again for the next two weeks and prior to my next trip. She prescribed a veritable cocktail of vitamins, minerals, tinctures and something called Bladderwrack - don't even ask. I agreed and I started three days ago.
So the current position is this. Today I weighed myself and I've lost 2 to 3 pounds since Tuesday - not sure of the exact amount as her scales and mine differ slightly. I'm feeling full of energy and I can't sleep although I'm bounding out of bed in the mornings - something I'm really not in the habit of doing. It's like being on drugs. I am a complete convert and make a daily effort to resist being evangelical. I've done a complete 'volte face'. You really ARE what you eat.
As my friend and neighbour said to me, only yesterday, "Nicola, you look fantastic. This thing's really working for you isn't it?"
Well, I have to agree, it really, really is.
Showing posts with label detox. Show all posts
Showing posts with label detox. Show all posts
Friday, 29 May 2009
Monday, 20 April 2009
Low fat witchcraft
At the start of my second appointment with naturopath Elizabeth Gibaud (see previous posting of 8 April), I realised my first instincts had been right. I really didn't like her one little bit. We started off our session with a heated debate on panic attacks with her telling me that what I had been having for the past four years were not panic attacks - enough to send me spiralling into a bit of a panic on the spot.
Oh really Elizabeth? Well, don't tell me about panic attacks. I know all about them having suffered them, having been scared witless for the first two years because a range of eminent 'ologists failed to diagnose them, having had just about every medical test known to man to eliminate all other nasty possibilities and having researched, written, published, read, spoken, lived and breathed them and been for endless therapy and alternative treatments. We found ourselves spatting about the symptoms with her telling me that, for example, the chronic chest pain I suffered mid-attack was not part of panic syndrome. I resolved to print out some up to date information and present it to her on my next visit but to get off the subject before I punched her in the mouth or wasted any more of my time during the short appointment.
So, I'd lost 8lb which was fan-bloody-tastic and now (she said) I must stay on the detox for the following week except that there were a few more things to exclude. I shouldn't eat lettuce or celery or even look at rocket. I mustn't touch a sweet potato or be tempted by avocado. I should continue with the eighty three supplements she had prescribed, try to factor porridge into my breakfast (no way was I going to do that, I hate porridge) and cut down on the fruit allowance she had previously allowed. Why, I asked her? What harm could celery do? It's too salty dear, she said. Where do you think celery salt comes from? I didn't bother to ask about lettuce and rocket as the explanation was bound to disappoint.
I left her feeling pretty miserable about the prospect of the coming week. I had some social arrangements involving eating in restaurants and was worried about coping with those. Ordering plain chicken or fish with no seasoning whilst all around me scoffed things with sauces and chocolate desserts was, even at this early stage, getting horribly boring. Still, I resolved to continue as the results were showing on the scales - her scales, I never weigh myself at home lest I should be discouraged.
It was a hard week. Two dinner dates and a family gathering meant that my self control was stretched to the limit. As I'm a person who can resist anything but temptation, I was really proud that my resolve was steady and I barely strayed from the Elizabeth's restrictions, barring the odd bit of unavoidable lettuce in my undressed salads.
I arrived at the third appointment with a feeling of trepidation. I didn't think I'd lost that much more weight although I was holding the panic attacks at bay and the reflux hadn't bothered me at all. I jumped onto the scales to find I'd lost another four pounds. That was a total of twelve pounds in two weeks! I could have wept with joy.
What was Elizabeth going to tell me to do next and perhaps she's a witch I thought.
Oh really Elizabeth? Well, don't tell me about panic attacks. I know all about them having suffered them, having been scared witless for the first two years because a range of eminent 'ologists failed to diagnose them, having had just about every medical test known to man to eliminate all other nasty possibilities and having researched, written, published, read, spoken, lived and breathed them and been for endless therapy and alternative treatments. We found ourselves spatting about the symptoms with her telling me that, for example, the chronic chest pain I suffered mid-attack was not part of panic syndrome. I resolved to print out some up to date information and present it to her on my next visit but to get off the subject before I punched her in the mouth or wasted any more of my time during the short appointment.
So, I'd lost 8lb which was fan-bloody-tastic and now (she said) I must stay on the detox for the following week except that there were a few more things to exclude. I shouldn't eat lettuce or celery or even look at rocket. I mustn't touch a sweet potato or be tempted by avocado. I should continue with the eighty three supplements she had prescribed, try to factor porridge into my breakfast (no way was I going to do that, I hate porridge) and cut down on the fruit allowance she had previously allowed. Why, I asked her? What harm could celery do? It's too salty dear, she said. Where do you think celery salt comes from? I didn't bother to ask about lettuce and rocket as the explanation was bound to disappoint.
I left her feeling pretty miserable about the prospect of the coming week. I had some social arrangements involving eating in restaurants and was worried about coping with those. Ordering plain chicken or fish with no seasoning whilst all around me scoffed things with sauces and chocolate desserts was, even at this early stage, getting horribly boring. Still, I resolved to continue as the results were showing on the scales - her scales, I never weigh myself at home lest I should be discouraged.
It was a hard week. Two dinner dates and a family gathering meant that my self control was stretched to the limit. As I'm a person who can resist anything but temptation, I was really proud that my resolve was steady and I barely strayed from the Elizabeth's restrictions, barring the odd bit of unavoidable lettuce in my undressed salads.
I arrived at the third appointment with a feeling of trepidation. I didn't think I'd lost that much more weight although I was holding the panic attacks at bay and the reflux hadn't bothered me at all. I jumped onto the scales to find I'd lost another four pounds. That was a total of twelve pounds in two weeks! I could have wept with joy.
What was Elizabeth going to tell me to do next and perhaps she's a witch I thought.
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
The three letter F word
Well, I finally had an epiphany. In my minds eye, having seen myself as a slim, happy 29 year old, the mirror told a different story. I won’t use the ‘F’ word but let’s just say I was very overweight and physically way below par suffering from a variety of niggling ailments. 29 was a distant dream.
Oh I’d tried dieting over the years but failed miserably. The very word ‘diet’ made me want to stuff myself with chocolate and have another bottle of wine. My new husband and I are what you might call 'foodies'. We love cooking, eating, drinking and entertaining. In fact, you could say that we live for those and egg each other on. I blame him and he blames me. I was really feeling quite desperate.
Quite aside from the weight, I’d been suffering from crippling panic attacks for the last four years. Initially triggered by a traumatic divorce, they varied in number and intensity but to an extent, they were ruling my life.
I turned to the bony shoulder of an über slim and very fit friend who tentatively suggested that I see the naturopath she herself had consulted. Her problem had not been weight but hot flushes which were driving her to distraction. She claimed that since seeing the woman and making some small changes to her diet, she hadn’t had another hot flush.
I’m a born again sceptic and don’t really believe in any hocus pocus, supplements, food combining or tarot cards. But, I was at that I’ll-try-anything-once stage so called for an appointment which wasn’t easy to get.
A month later I found myself waiting to see Elizabeth Gibaud, naturopath to the stars and credited with bringing various well known names back to health and slimness. I took an instant dislike to her.
She works by doing ‘facial analysis’ by which I mean she has a good look at you under a bright light and says things like “you should never eat mushrooms again”. She doesn’t respond well to being questioned and her level of explanation of her methods is minimal in the extreme. As a nosy parker and one who like to know what I’m doing, I felt very uncomfortable with the idea of blindly following her baffling advice. Anyway, after weighing and measuring me, she set me on a ‘detox diet’ (oh, how the very word made me laugh inwardly) which she told me to follow for a week before seeing her again. I won’t bore you with the finer details of the ‘detox’ but it involved giving up coffee, tea, salt, pepper, sugar, alcohol, red meat, yeast, mushrooms, sweet potato and parsnip. It meant embracing dandelion and nettle tea, various supplements, large amounts of water and a daily jacket potato. As I’d paid my money, I put scepticsm aside and thought I’d give it a try for a week.
I’ve never been one for weighing myself so resisted the temptation to get onto the scales during the course of the week. Anyway, I could hardly move because the coffee withdrawal set up a thumping three day headache and I felt incredibly tired, lethargic and stiff. In a quirk of fate, as a result of having a minor surgical procedure, my husband was diagnosed with high blood pressure that same week and told to lose weight and drink less. This made rigidly sticking to the diet rather easier as he was 'in the zone' too.
A week later, I was back in front of Elizabeth who weighed me, measured me and triumphantly announced that I’d shed eight pounds and lost a total of around 6 inches from various parts of my body. Indeed, my clothes were feeling more comfortable and blow me down, by the time of that visit, I was starting to feel quite a bit better. I also realised that during the past week, I hadn’t had to take a drug, or even a Rennie, for my oesophageal reflux and I’d had a week free from panic attacks.
Maybe there was something in this after all.
Watch this space for the next instalment.
Oh I’d tried dieting over the years but failed miserably. The very word ‘diet’ made me want to stuff myself with chocolate and have another bottle of wine. My new husband and I are what you might call 'foodies'. We love cooking, eating, drinking and entertaining. In fact, you could say that we live for those and egg each other on. I blame him and he blames me. I was really feeling quite desperate.
Quite aside from the weight, I’d been suffering from crippling panic attacks for the last four years. Initially triggered by a traumatic divorce, they varied in number and intensity but to an extent, they were ruling my life.
I turned to the bony shoulder of an über slim and very fit friend who tentatively suggested that I see the naturopath she herself had consulted. Her problem had not been weight but hot flushes which were driving her to distraction. She claimed that since seeing the woman and making some small changes to her diet, she hadn’t had another hot flush.
I’m a born again sceptic and don’t really believe in any hocus pocus, supplements, food combining or tarot cards. But, I was at that I’ll-try-anything-once stage so called for an appointment which wasn’t easy to get.
A month later I found myself waiting to see Elizabeth Gibaud, naturopath to the stars and credited with bringing various well known names back to health and slimness. I took an instant dislike to her.
She works by doing ‘facial analysis’ by which I mean she has a good look at you under a bright light and says things like “you should never eat mushrooms again”. She doesn’t respond well to being questioned and her level of explanation of her methods is minimal in the extreme. As a nosy parker and one who like to know what I’m doing, I felt very uncomfortable with the idea of blindly following her baffling advice. Anyway, after weighing and measuring me, she set me on a ‘detox diet’ (oh, how the very word made me laugh inwardly) which she told me to follow for a week before seeing her again. I won’t bore you with the finer details of the ‘detox’ but it involved giving up coffee, tea, salt, pepper, sugar, alcohol, red meat, yeast, mushrooms, sweet potato and parsnip. It meant embracing dandelion and nettle tea, various supplements, large amounts of water and a daily jacket potato. As I’d paid my money, I put scepticsm aside and thought I’d give it a try for a week.
I’ve never been one for weighing myself so resisted the temptation to get onto the scales during the course of the week. Anyway, I could hardly move because the coffee withdrawal set up a thumping three day headache and I felt incredibly tired, lethargic and stiff. In a quirk of fate, as a result of having a minor surgical procedure, my husband was diagnosed with high blood pressure that same week and told to lose weight and drink less. This made rigidly sticking to the diet rather easier as he was 'in the zone' too.
A week later, I was back in front of Elizabeth who weighed me, measured me and triumphantly announced that I’d shed eight pounds and lost a total of around 6 inches from various parts of my body. Indeed, my clothes were feeling more comfortable and blow me down, by the time of that visit, I was starting to feel quite a bit better. I also realised that during the past week, I hadn’t had to take a drug, or even a Rennie, for my oesophageal reflux and I’d had a week free from panic attacks.
Maybe there was something in this after all.
Watch this space for the next instalment.
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