Progress This Week & So Far

📉 Starting Weight (Jan 1st): 159.7kg
📉 Current Weight: 148.3kg
⚖️ Total Weight Lost: 11.4 kg
🚰 Water Drank This Week: 28.7 litres
☕ That’s the equivalent of 166 standard mugs of tea
⏳ Total Fasting Time This Week: 140 hours 51 minutes
🎵 That’s enough time to listen to The Fast Food Song on repeat 1,747 times

A Week in the Life of Me

This week has been a full-on roller coaster,the kind that throws you through loop de loops of highs and lows, makes you question your life choices halfway through, and leaves you stumbling off at the end wondering what just happened.

It has been a Pizza Hut, Greggs, KFC kind of week, but also a week of realisations, resilience, and BFG sized strides forward.

Some days, I was on top of the world, feeling in control and smashing goals. Other days? I was one bad mood away from single-handedly funding Greggs' next store expansion.

I have toiled for hours over what to cut and what to keep from this week, and if I am completely honest.......I haven’t been able to.

So, this is it.

A longer read, a real glimpse into how quickly things can shift, how I can go from struggles to wins in a matter of days.

Buckle in. Grab a cuppa (and maybe a biscuit or three), because this one is a ride

Saturday – The Buffet That Never Was

Into the Chaos

I woke up struggling today, knowing full well I was about to throw myself into a situation of guaranteed sensory overload.

Taking Tommy, three of his friends, and Ewan to a children’s farm? Not exactly my idea of a relaxing day out. The noise, the chaos, the constant movement. It is exhausting. But seeing Tommy’s smile made it worth it. That is why I push myself through it. Because no matter how much it drains me, those memories are his and they are worth everything

But there was another war waiting for me later in the day. A different kind of battle.

Tonight, we were going to Pizza Hut

The Buffet Battlefield

Buffets.

That one word sends my brain into a spin.

It excites me, but it also fills me with absolute dread.

As someone who struggles with binge eating, putting me in a place where it is socially acceptable encouraged, even, to eat as much as possible is like putting an alcoholic behind a bar and telling them to “just have one.”

Even when I wasn’t facing into my issues, buffets were always a struggle. The urge to pick up every slice, to go back for just one more plate, to make sure I got my money’s worth....it’s a battle I’ve fought many times before.

And it started hours before we even got there.

The Food Spiral

At the farm, we stopped to buy lunch for the boys. I queued up, scanning the options, but my mind was already racing ahead to dinner.

What can I eat now that won’t ruin later?
What can I have later that won’t make me spiral?
How do I get through today without losing control?

Before I knew it, I was back at the table.

Empty-handed.

Not because I had made some strategic decision to “save my calories.” No.

I had short-circuited. The stress of food decisions completely overloaded my brain, and I just… didn’t get anything.

And I knew exactly what that meant.

By the time we reached Pizza Hut, I was going to be starving.

And starving plus buffet? That is a disaster waiting to happen.

My mood dropped instantly. It was like standing in the arena, knowing the battle was coming, knowing my enemy was stronger, and bracing for war.

Noo-Noo vs. The Buffet

Then, the plot twist.

By the time we got to Pizza Hut, the buffet was over.

All that stress. All that mental gymnastics. Completely pointless.

But because I had fasted for way too long, I still struggled.

The moment food hit the table, my instincts kicked in.

I felt like Noo-Noo from Teletubbies, ready to hoover up everything in sight.

Every crust. Every leftover slice. Every scrap of garlic bread staring at me.

Daring me to break.

I held strong. But it was tough.

The Internal War

On my normal days, I am fine. I have found a rhythm, a routine that works.

But when it comes to days out? I am still fighting.

These used to be the days where I felt at ease, where I would just eat what I wanted and move on. But now, it feels like a war between old habits and new discipline.

I know I am changing. I know I am winning.

But some battles still take everything I have got.

Sunday – The Social Battery Apocalypse

I woke up feeling like my social battery had not just drained, but had been ripped out, thrown in a lake, and forgotten about.

The tension hit me the second I opened my eyes. Not because I was dreading the day ahead, but because my tolerance for everything had vanished.

Talking? Gone.
Chewing? Unbearable.
Even the sound of breathing felt like nails on a chalkboard.

It was like I had taken my social tolerance deep into an overdraft yesterday, and I was now facing a long repayment plan.

The Real Kicker? I Do Not Live Alone

I share this house with two others who were in exactly the same boat.

Overstimulated.
Drained.
Running on empty.

And you would think that would mean a quiet day....each of us retreating to our own spaces to recharge.

But no! That would be too easy.

The neurodivergent gods, clearly ADHD, decided that instead of dealing with overwhelm in the same way, we would all need completely different things to regulate.

For me, that means silence and solitude.

For Tommy, that means vocal stimming and constant physical contact.

Put those two together and you have a stick of dynamite with a lit fuse.

The Challenge We Did Not Need

Luckily, we had already arranged to meet friends for a walk in the morning, which was probably for the best. A day stuck in the house might have ended in bloodshed.

But the forty-minute drive to get there? That was a challenge none of us needed.

Days like this leave me completely spent. My patience disappears, my ability to regulate is non-existent, and I spiral into thinking Jess does not appreciate what I am going through.

And then the dreaded phrase comes out.

"You Are an Adult!"

That one line boils my blood.

In the moment, it makes me feel dismissed, like my struggles do not matter. But the truth is, I am not thinking logically when I feel like that.

Now, sitting alone in my room, finally getting the silence I needed, the penny drops.

How Awful Must This Be for Her?

She is stuck in a house with three people who are all overwhelmed in different ways, each needing something completely opposite from the others.

And she is one person.

No wonder she focuses on the kids first.

Because she is right. They are kids.

And I am an adult. And even though I feel like a bottle of champagne ready to explode, she does not have the luxury of picking and choosing who to support.

She is doing what she has to do.

Monday – Empty, But Still Here

Most of the time, I feel empty.

Not in a dramatic woe-is-me way, but in the I barely have the energy to handle my own baggage, let alone anyone else’s kind of way.

I have a child with ASD and ADHD, a wife who has battled depression since before we met (and before you say it, no, it is not my fault… well, I hope not), and another child who we strongly suspect is also neurodiverse.

And then there is me.

Sitting on top of this steaming pile of issues, barely holding it all together.

When The Messages Come In

So when people start messaging me about my blog, opening up about their struggles, my first instinct is to panic.

Not because I do not care because I do!

But because I have no idea what to say.

I am not some wise guru with all the answers. I am fumbling my way through this, the same way they are.

So when people reach out, especially about the blog, I feel like a fraud.

The social anxiety side of me hates the attention, and I cringe when people call it brave—because it does not feel brave.

I am just writing things down.

I do not have solutions. I am not some beacon of wisdom.

I am just a bloke trying to figure it out, one mess at a time.

A Moment of Immense Pride

One of those messages today came from a close friend, and it really caught me in the feels.

They opened up about shit at work and how they have been struggling with binge eating because of the stress of it all.

I already knew they struggled with their eating, but after we talked, they sent me a message.

They are finally going to seek help.

We have spoken about this before, but every time, they have shied away from doing anything about it. Just like I did for so long.

I have never been prouder of them.

January was a definitive line in the sand for me, but the real change started last year.

From my first counselling session, I have been working on different strategies and researching ways to help myself.

It has taken time, effort, and a hell of a lot of self-reflection to get to where I am now.

Do I still have shit days? Absolutely.

But now, I am better at controlling how deep I fall into my own mental vortex.

And seeing my friend take that first step, knowing they are ready to face their demons?

That means everything.

Owning the Journey

I do not care if it was something I said, or if they just reached this decision on their own.

We all have to own our own journey.

If knowing someone else understands what you are going through is what helps you take that step, then so be it.

This blog has always been for me first.

Every night, I write out my thoughts and feelings, not just for the world, but because I can express myself better in writing than I ever could speaking.

I share it with Jess because it helps her understand what is going on in my head.

I may not have the right words to say to people in person, but through writing, I can at least be honest.

And if that honesty helps even one person feel less alone,

Then maybe this blog is bigger than just me after all.

Tuesday – The Day of the Double Takeaway

It was Tommy's birthday, and after speaking with the school, it was decided that for his own well-being, he would be better off at home. He has been majorly disregulated lately, and the idea of throwing him into a day where he'd have to mask his emotions while also navigating a busy classroom just didn’t seem fair.

So, I worked from home while Tommy played with his new birthday presents and did some schoolwork in between. We were having a lovely morning, and at lunchtime, we decided to treat Nanny and Grandad to a Greggs lunch.

Greggs – My Ultimate Nemesis

In the car we popped, off to Greggs, where I was about to face one of my biggest weaknesses.

Greggs is dangerous territory for me. I could happily gorge on every single item. And because it’s cheap, I can buy a ridiculous amount without it even feeling like I’m spending money. Stupid? Yes. But that’s how my brain works.

I slightly over-ordered—a sausage roll, a sandwich, and some chicken goujons—but I sat down at Nanny’s house and ate lunch with them.

And the best part?

There was no devil on my shoulder whispering, "Go on, just one more."
No urge to sneak extra food.
No guilt.

Just a nice meal, shared with family.

The Double Down Temptation

The day rolled on, and it was time to pick up Ewan. And, of course, we couldn’t leave him out—so KFC it was.

We pulled up at the drive-thru, and that’s when I saw it.

The Double Down was back.

My favourite KFC product. A burger that is literally just chicken, cheese, sauce, and more chicken—no bun, no distractions.

And once upon a time, I would order three of them in one sitting.

The battle in my head started immediately.

You don’t need takeaway.
Yeah, but it’s the Double Down.
You’re doing well, don’t mess it up.
One won’t hurt, and if you don’t get one, you’ll just think about it all night.

I edged closer to the order point, knowing I had seconds to make a decision.

And then, it was done.

"One Double Down Zinger meal, please."

Enjoying It – Without the Guilt

We got home, I ate the burger, and I gave the chips to the kids.

Controlled. Balanced. No shame spirals.

And do you know what? I enjoyed it.

A few months ago, I would have been racked with guilt for eating something like that. But today? No regret. No self-loathing.

I know myself well enough now to realise that if I hadn’t had it, it would have been on my mind all night. That could have led to me losing focus at work, or even worse—triggering a binge later in the week.

So yes, it was The Day of the Double Takeaway.

But I was present, I was in control, and most importantly—I was involved.

Which is a stark contrast to my previous weight loss attempts, where I wouldn’t even sit down with my family to eat.

Wednesday – The Day the Battle Went Quiet

Today was different.

Not in a “quit my job and move to Canada to be a lumberjack” kind of way, but in a way that felt... off. And if something feels off, it is probably worth talking about.

For the first time in what feels like forever, my entire day was not consumed by thoughts of food.

No calculations.
No cravings.
No mental gymnastics about what I should eat versus what I want to eat.

It was not some grand display of willpower.

It just… happened.

And I will be honest.......it left me feeling a bit lost.

The Battle Went Quiet

I have done longer fasts before, gone through longer stretches on my yo-yo journey of change.

But I have never had a day like this.

Normally, I feel like a soldier going into battle every time I pass a McDonald's or a KFC, dodging the enemy’s chicken nugget grenades and trying not to get taken down by a Big Mac.

But today?

No fight. No war.

Just me, getting on with my day, feeling in control instead of being controlled.

I even took a franchise partner out for lunch and fasted while they ate.

Did not feel deprived.
Did not feel miserable.
Just sat there, having a normal conversation like someone who is not in a lifelong tug-of-war with food.

It was almost unsettling.

And that is when it hit me.

The Roads Were Empty

I am used to going into battle every day.

The push and pull.
The constant back and forth between what I want and what I think I want.

But today felt like the roads during COVID lockdowns—too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes you realise how loud things have been all along.

And maybe that is why, by the evening, I was waiting for something to go wrong.

Like my brain did not trust the peace and was convinced chaos was lurking around the corner.

Jess, Please Confirm I Am Not a Chauvinist

I walked into the house expecting dinner to be plated up for me.

Not because I am a chauvinist (Jess, please confirm), but because if I haven’t cooked, Jess usually does, and she is kind enough to make sure I have some too.

Except today, the meal was too good.

The kids ate it all.

High praise indeed!

Old me? Would have spiralled.

Would have used it as an excuse to eat something ridiculous or stewed over it in my head like it was a personal attack.

But today?

I just shrugged.

Made myself a sandwich, grabbed some fruit, and added a Graze peri peri crunch for good measure.

No overthinking.
No frustration.
No pity party.

Just a normal response.

Imagine that.

Confidence, Control, and a Small Reminder That I Am Actually Good at My Job

The quiet might have felt weird, but something else happened today that hit differently.

A franchise partner sent a message to my boss’s boss after meeting me.

Nothing dramatic, just a simple note saying how great it was to meet me and how they were looking forward to working together.

On paper? Not a big deal.

But for someone who overthinks everything and struggles with confidence, it was like being handed a trophy for existing.

I have spent years feeling unworthy of the things I have.

My job.
My family.
My place in the world.

It is not there all the time, but when that little voice in my head creeps in, it knows exactly what to say.

But today, I had proof.

Proof that I do belong in my role.
Proof that I do bring something valuable to the table.
Proof that I am not just some impostor taking up space.

And that feeling?

That will be useful when the inevitable dark days roll back around.

The Road Ahead

Change is weird.

We all fear it, even when we know it is for the better.

But I want this.

I want to stop feeling like food is the biggest relationship in my life.
I want to stop seeing every drive past a fast food place as a battle of willpower.
I want to wake up and not have my first thought be about what I am eating.

Today gave me a glimpse of that.

And while it felt strange, it also felt like hope.

I do not know what is coming next.

But for the first time in a long time,

I am not just reacting to the journey.

I am driving it.

And that?

That is worth everything

Thursday – Running on Fumes, But Taking BFG Strides

I am wrecked.

Two 4:30 AM wake-ups this week.
Seven hours of driving today.
A brain that feels like a dial-up connection trying to load a YouTube video in 2007.

I am running on fumes, and my body knows it.

And, of course, that’s when the cravings kick in.

Right now, I am slumped on the sofa, writing this, while my brain whispers sweet nothings about the treat cupboard.

Jess calls it the treat cupboard.

I call it the “I want to eat the whole fucking lot” cupboard.

I know exactly how this usually goes.

A tired, overstimulated me would stand in the kitchen, telling himself I’ll just have one sweet, only to come back 15 minutes later looking like a toddler who got into the biscuit tin unsupervised.

But not tonight.

The donut-shaped devil on my shoulder is telling me to eat my feelings, but I know better.

I will clonk out before I give in.

The Week That Ate Me Alive

This week has been brutal.

Saturday: Chaos, overstimulation, and the Pizza Hut battlefield.
Sunday: Total social burnout. Brain turned into a barely functional potato.
Monday: 3-hour drive each way. Energy levels below sea level.
Tuesday: Tommy’s birthday. Dad mode on full blast.
Wednesday: Another long drive, another hit to my energy reserves.
Thursday: 7 hours of driving. This was the final boss.

I am spluttering towards the weekend.

If this week were a car journey, I’d be rolling into the service station on fumes, praying I make it before the engine gives out.

Was this week perfect? No.
Did I make the healthiest food choices? No.
But am I still moving forward? Yes.

And not just inching forward.

I feel like I am taking BFG-sized strides every single week.

Huge.
Exaggerated.
Slightly ridiculous.

But undeniably progressive.

A few months ago, a week like this would have ended with three takeaways in one day and a bag (or two) of sweets inhaled on autopilot.

Today?

I am still in control.

I am still making better choices.

And even if they aren’t perfect, they are a world away from where I used to be.

What Today Taught Me

I am shattered.

I feel like a car on its last legs, spluttering to the finish line.

But here’s the difference between me now and me six months ago:

I am still moving forward.

And not just that—I am taking BFG strides.

And those are the kind of steps that get you somewhere new.

Friday – The Day of Weigh-In

This week has been manic.

A week of indulgence.

A KFC, Greggs, Pizza Hut kind of week—so thoroughly enjoyed that I am half-convinced the old advert jingle should be playing consistently in the background.

"A Pizza Hut, a Pizza Hut, a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Pizza Hut…"
Greggs, Greggs… or something like that.

But today wasn’t about food.

Today was weigh-in day.

The Ritual of the Scales

So, there I was, in my boxers, because if you weigh yourself in anything more than your underwear, you are a psychopath, and I will not be taking feedback on this.

The scales came out.

I placed them on the floor.

And then?

I just stood on them.

No mental build-up.
No “What if I haven’t lost?”
No “What if I’ve gained?”
No delaying it like I’m about to sit through a Catholic mass in Latin.

Thirty seconds. Jump on. Jump off. Done.

The result?

1kg down.

And you would think that would spark something in me—relief, excitement, even a quiet moment of pride.

But there was nothing.

No big emotional response.

It was just a fact.

And at first, that confused me.

The Shift in Perspective

It was not until I was talking to my friend later....the same friend who finally sought help for their binge eating this week....that I realised why.

The weight doesn’t matter to me the way it used to.

Hold on, I know what you are thinking.

"Isn’t this whole blog about weight loss?"

Yes.

But also, no.

I have realised that weight loss is just a by-product of the real milestones I am hitting.

The things that actually mean something:

✅ Controlling my binges better.
✅ Better mental health and clarity.
✅ Feeling better physically.
✅ Being a better husband and father.
✅ Having more energy, which helps me be more engaged with the people who matter most.

The number on the scale will go up and down. That is just part of the process.

But if I am winning in these areas?

That is the real progress.

The Marathon, Not the Sprint

I am not obsessed with the scales anymore.

I am not placing my entire sense of achievement on a number that fluctuates based on hydration, stress, or whether I had too much salt yesterday.

This is a marathon, not a sprint.

It will ebb and flow, and I will have hurdles.

But right now, I am running the best race of my life.

Not because of how fast I am losing weight.

But because of how much I am changing my life.

And I am determined to set a PB.

Not for the scales.

For myself.

Final Words

If you made it this far, I owe you a medal or at the very least a strong cup of tea. This one was a long one but some weeks just hit differently and this was one of them.

So if you stuck with me through every win, wobble, and questionable buffet choice, thank you. It means a lot that you are here, reading, supporting, and maybe even nodding along thinking "Yep, been there."

Next week I promise I will try to keep it shorter. No guarantees though.

See you in the next one.

The Bearded Belly Chronicles – Chapter Four: BFG Strides and Buffet Battlefields