The Bearded Belly Chronicles – Chapter 9: Still Here, Just About
The Bearded Belly Chronicles – Chapter 9: Still Here, Just About
In the Numbers 📊
Starting weight: 159.7kg ⚖️
Weight last Friday: 144.2Kg ⏳
Weight today: 145.4kg 🎉 (-15.5kg)
This week, I fasted for 110 hours and 37 minutes ⏱️First miss of the year. One hour and 23 minutes short. It does not sound like much but it matters. Not because I am chasing perfection. I am not. I am chasing consistency. And this week I blinked. Life got in the way, I let it, and now the streak resets. But that is okay. Growth is not in the perfect weeks. It is in how I show up after this one.
I drank 26.6 litres of water 💧, I missed my water goal by 1.4 litres and I felt it.... not just in thirst but in the hunger I mistook it for . Dehydration crept in quietly, and before I knew it, I was eating to fill a gap water should've closed. Lesson learned. This journey isn't just about what I cut out. It's about what I need to put in.
This week has been awful. Mentally and physically. The virus I caught last week still has not budged, and the exhaustion it has caused has left me too drained to fight the usual battles. Every ounce of strength I had went into just getting through the day, and with nothing left in the tank, I let the demons around food run riot.
I am not even that bothered by the slight weight gain. What has really bruised my confidence is how quickly I sprinted back into old habits. I did not just slip, I bolted. Used food as a crutch. Let go of everything I had built. And I knew it, every time. After every secret eat and binge, I did not feel like I had battled, I felt like I had waved the white flag.
My bank statement looks like the fast food hall of fame, with some alumni making multiple appearances. But it is not even the eating that has got to me. It is the way I slipped into hiding it. Spending on my card so Jess could not see. Binning the rubbish from the car like it never happened. And that is not where I've been this year. That is not who I want to be.
There wasn't a moment of clarity this week, or maybe just a moment where I gave up. I felt it. I knew I was letting it happen, and I did not stop myself. I let the donut shaped devil set the course and captain the ship. And that, looking back, was completely the wrong move.
The hardest bit? My routine vanished. And without it, I was left in a food wilderness. No map. No structure. Just me, facing addiction with nothing to hold onto.
But I know I cannot let this be where the story ends. This is merely another week, another chapter, where the protagonist faces adversity. I have not lost the war. I am just holding the space until I can fight again. We are not even into the middle chapters of this journey yet. And when this book closes, it will be with me, the protagonist, standing tall, battle worn maybe, but undefeated.
The Price of the Hit
Addiction is a strong word. But when you have a diagnosis of binge eating disorder and your go to foods are loaded with sugar, salt, and fat ..... it fits.
This week, I have sought out those foods for one reason. That brief, fleeting spike of dopamine. That hit of relief. A moment that lasts seconds before the guilt, the shame, and the punishment mindset crash straight through.
The difficulty with a food addiction is that, unlike others, you cannot live without the thing you are addicted to. That is not to diminish the pain anyone else feels through their addictions — not at all. But I cannot go cold turkey. I cannot cut myself off from food companies or avoid supermarkets for the rest of my life. It is not about abstaining. It is about managing the addiction every single day — and sometimes failing.
I have drunk barely any water this week. A task that once felt purposeful has become a chore. And I know the science — I know thirst often disguises itself as hunger. That is why I set myself the goal of drinking up to four litres a day this year. But this week, I have struggled to manage 500 millilitres. The donut devil is not just steering the ship, he is unplugging all the healthy coping mechanisms too.
The worst part is, I saw the wagon leaving. I saw it pulling away in the distance. And instead of chasing after it, I sat back and let the demons creep in. At least twice this week I have laid awake at one in the morning, searching things like “how to lose excessive weight fast, "how few calories I could eat and still function", “how to fast without showing signs of fatigue”. I was not just off track. I was punishing myself for being off track.
Right now, as I write this, a tear has rolled down my face. Because I feel like a fraud. I am here, sharing wisdom, building up my +1 method, talking about resilience and showing up .... and at the same time, I have been actively Googling how to punish myself for slipping. And that is the biggest failure of all.
This journey is not about punishment. It is about becoming better. It is about gaining control. I know there will be ups and downs. I know the path is not a straight line. But the ease with which I embraced the old habits this week has left me reeling. And the truth is, I still do not know how I catch that wagon back up.
All I know is I need to return to what was working. I need to stop swinging the bat at myself and accept that this was a speed bump. I need to stand up, shake off the guilt, and go again.
Addiction is a strong word. But when you have a diagnosis of binge eating disorder and your go to foods are loaded with sugar, salt, and fat ..... it fits.
This week, I have sought out those foods for one reason. That brief, fleeting spike of dopamine. That hit of relief. A moment that lasts seconds before the guilt, the shame, and the punishment mindset crash straight through.
The difficulty with a food addiction is that, unlike others, you cannot live without the thing you are addicted to. That is not to diminish the pain anyone else feels through their addictions — not at all. But I cannot go cold turkey. I cannot cut myself off from food companies or avoid supermarkets for the rest of my life. It is not about abstaining. It is about managing the addiction every single day — and sometimes failing.
I have drunk barely any water this week. A task that once felt purposeful has become a chore. And I know the science — I know thirst often disguises itself as hunger. That is why I set myself the goal of drinking up to four litres a day this year. But this week, I have struggled to manage 500 millilitres. The donut devil is not just steering the ship, he is unplugging all the healthy coping mechanisms too.
The worst part is, I saw the wagon leaving. I saw it pulling away in the distance. And instead of chasing after it, I sat back and let the demons creep in. At least twice this week I have laid awake at one in the morning, searching things like “how to lose excessive weight fast, "how few calories I could eat and still function", “how to fast without showing signs of fatigue”. I was not just off track. I was punishing myself for being off track.
Right now, as I write this, a tear has rolled down my face. Because I feel like a fraud. I am here, sharing wisdom, building up my +1 method, talking about resilience and showing up .... and at the same time, I have been actively Googling how to punish myself for slipping. And that is the biggest failure of all.
This journey is not about punishment. It is about becoming better. It is about gaining control. I know there will be ups and downs. I know the path is not a straight line. But the ease with which I embraced the old habits this week has left me reeling. And the truth is, I still do not know how I catch that wagon back up.
All I know is I need to return to what was working. I need to stop swinging the bat at myself and accept that this was a speed bump. I need to stand up, shake off the guilt, and go again.
No Doubt, Just Splash
Among the mess this week, something surprisingly good happened. Actually, a couple of things.
On Saturday, Jess and I had our date night and headed into Birmingham to see Six. I had been warned it was a bit shouty, a bit modern, and very much a musical about historical queens turned pop stars, and honestly… it was fine. Not amazing. Not awful. Just… fine. And in the world of married date nights, “fine” can be a pretty solid win.
The best part? The kids stayed at a family member's overnight. You might remember the last time that happened. We had full scale dysregulation, like someone had hit the red button and launched World War Three. So this time, I thought ahead. What could we do with the boys that would feel fun, but not overwhelming?
Swimming. I chose swimming. All by myself. No one suggested it. No one pushed me. I just decided it was the right thing for them, and without realising it, maybe the right thing for me too.
I invited my sister in law and nieces to come along and off we went. And the moment I stepped out of the changing rooms and into the pool area… it hit me. I did not care. No voices in my head. No second guessing. No awkward glances around the room wondering who might be judging me. Nothing. Just me, doing a normal thing, in a normally scary place, and feeling fine.
And because of that, I was present. Properly present. I watched the kids laugh. I splashed around. I did not shrink or hide or worry if I belonged there. I just enjoyed the moment for what it was.
The wider family time was brilliant. The boys were buzzing. Jess was relaxed. And I realised, even if I am struggling, even if I am still wrestling with the hard stuff, moments like this are proof that it is worth it. That the battles, the mental anguish, the quiet wins… they are all part of something bigger.
What Comes Next
So what now?
Honestly, it feels like the first week of January all over again. The energy is low. The routines are shaky. But I know what I need to do.
Pick myself up. Dust myself off. And chase that wagon down.
I need to remember the tools I have already put in place. The structure. The routine. The little steps that help me build momentum when everything feels like it is slipping.
I am expecting a tough week ahead. But I want to be ready for the battle. I do not want to drift through it, letting the demons take the wheel again. I want to choose better. Even if that choice feels hard.
The truth is, I did not win last week. And I nearly skipped writing this altogether. I came close to hiding away, pretending it had not happened, finding some excuse not to show up here. But I did show up. Because that matters.
Because only by acknowledging our failings can we start to build something better.
And that starts now.
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