Monthly Archives: September 2015

Closet Closed for Business

Freeform thoughts, In the here & now,

wardrobe

Is that what your closet looks like? No, mine either. *Sigh*. To be fair, wardrobes like this don’t happen to people like me… I do have a really lovely wardrobe, in fact three lovely wardrobes, but it’s complicated. They are bursting at the seams with clothes…skinny clothes. I can’t put my fat clothes in there. Yes, when I say it out loud I appreciate how ridiculous that sounds but I just can’t do it…if my fat clothes were ever to make it across the threshold of my wardrobe, that’s tantamount to admitting that they’re staying, and that would never do, because they’re not. Obviously.

So the fat clothes – you know the ones that have fitted me for the last six years or so – exist in kind of a holding pattern between the wash basket, the ironing pile and my one ‘fat clothes’ drawer. My skinny clothes on the other hand – the ones that fitted me for about ten minutes – have hung undisturbed since the day I sloped out of the skinny zone with my tail between my legs and started eating all the pies.

When I’m skinny, I love to shop. I have a thing about business suits and evening dresses in particular, which is strange in itself, because I have no real cause to wear either. I mean I could go to work in a suit if I wanted to, but the skinny me could probably wear a different one every day for months before I’d worked my way around them all…a lot of them still have the tags on.  As for evening dresses, although I’ve probably got a couple of dozen in my skinny wardrobe, I can count on one hand the occasions I’ve actually needed to wear one…I don’t live that life.

Which begs the question, whose life was I actually buying them for?  I’m the kind of girl who can’t wait to climb into PJs as soon as I get in from work. Weekends come around, and I love nothing more than kicking back with my family, or having friends around for a few scoops or a nice meal, but dressy black tie functions..? Not for me. It’s never been my thing at all. It’s as if I thought that once I’d hit the skinny zone, this whole new and different world was going to open up and I’d start doing things I’d never enjoyed, and living a lifestyle I’ve never aspired to. Which, when you put it like that makes me sound like a right muppet.

I can’t help thinking that it’s another example of a real mis-fire in the way I think about stuff – skinny equals a glamorous just-stepped-off-the-pages-of-vogue lifestyle, where fat equals jersey pyjamas and a love affair with my armchair. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s a bloody great chair – but there’s absolutely no reason I couldn’t buy skinny pyjamas and kick back and relax in it as a skinny girl…no glamour required, and the real me could dig in to live the life I choose, not the one I think I ought to want.

Perhaps it’s time for a clear out…or maybe I’ll leave them there just a wee while longer…after all, skinny I’m comin’ to get ya 🙂

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Asshole Logic

Freeform thoughts, In the here & now, ,

mouse

I like to think I’m a fairly intelligent person. I mean not in an academic kind of way – I’ve got a handful of smarts but I was thinking more along the lines of plain old common sense logic. Give me a problem and I’ll usually figure out a way to solve it. Make it a complex problem and that really gets my grey matter working – I love a challenge. Thing is, when it comes to dieting, logic deserts me before I’ve even counted a single calorie.

I suspect it’s the asshole factor if I’m being honest. I’ve thought about this a lot and you know that way where someone from the I.T. service desk can dial into your computer and move your mouse? Well I reckon as soon as I talk myself into another diet, the asshole gets hold of my mouse and moves it around the bit of my head that controls logic.  I can provide examples.

I’ve never ever started a diet on any other day but a Monday. Why is that? Even the mandatoryJanuary diet – obviously you can’t start a diet on New Year’s day because of the hangover munchies. But unless the 2nd of January is a Monday, I can’t start it then either…it would have to be the first Monday after that.

And say for example I decide on a Thursday that I’m starting a diet on Monday, the next bit of asshole logic means that I have four days left to eat my bodyweight in all the naughty food I won’t be able to eat once I’m on the diet. That exact thing happened before I started this one – I got back from holiday on the Saturday having basically spent the previous 2 weeks eating my way through Northern Europe, in fact I don’t think my jaws stopped moving for two straight weeks. But between Saturday night and Monday morning I still managed to fit in a chinese takeaway, fish and chips and an Indian meal. Because asshole logic told me that I wouldn’t be able to eat them ever again, so it was now or never.

Of course had the asshole not been controlling my mouse, I would have realised that the more I ate pre-diet, the more I’d have to lose on the diet.  And god forbid I put a foot wrong – let’s say someone’s passing a bag of Maltesers around at work, and I take one. They’re like 8 calories each, but well that’s the day ruined isn’t it. I’ve cheated now so I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

So as the asshole jumps up and down with glee I’ll ignore the rabbit food I brought for lunch, and have a cheese and ham toastie from the deli up the road oh and a piece of battenburg cake whilst I’m there. I’ll start again tomorrow. Except tomorrow’s not Monday. I’ll start Monday.

Real logic would tell me that’s like walking 500 steps forward, stumbling back 2 steps and feeling like I’m back to square one. Of course I’m not – I’m 498 bloody impressive steps from the starting blocks and despite the stumble I’m still facing forward. But for as long as the asshole has his hands on my mouse, I’m afraid I’m shafted.

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Bad Lands

Freeform thoughts,

ducks

I used to work with a lady who was quite spiritual in her approach to life – I don’t mean in a religious sense, it was less defined than a belief system. In fact I don’t really know how to describe her…the nearest I could come up with would probably be ‘as mad as a box of frogs’ but that sounds unkind and actually I look back on her attitude with fondness and not a small amount of envy if I’m honest. She believed in whatever felt right to her in any given moment in time, for whatever reason, no matter how quirky – or utterly bonkers –  it seemed to anyone else.

Just think about that for a second…how liberating would that be. I mean on one level, I reckon we’ve all done it to some small degree – hands up if you’ve ever read a horoscope and immediately checked a different newspaper or magazine or website to find one that sounded more appealing – I know have.  And if I have two to choose from, and one of them tells me today is the day that a tall dark handsome millionaire is going to carry me off to a land where chocolate has no calories, where he will ravish me till my eyes pop out,  or better still I’m going to bag my dream job as chief ice cream taster for Haagen Dazs and I’ll get skinnier with every mouthful, count me in I’ll pick that one every time. But much as I might leave the house with a spring in my step ready to embrace Utopia, that’s closer to wishful thinking than belief.

Our personal belief systems have evolved through our respective lifetimes as a direct result of things we’ve seen, experienced, been told. My personal view is that our self esteem is so closely linked to our personal beliefs that it’s nigh on impossible to separate the two. And if somebody says something which resonates within our personal belief system, the message lands far more easily than if it’s at odds with what we believe.

That’s why the asshole in my head has so much power over me. My belief system is built on some fundamental principles which include skinny being good, and fat being bad. I’m not alone in this belief – it’s widely held if you’ll pardon the pun – it’s a message that seems baked into the fabric of society, unless you live in Tonga (which by the way I’m still considering as a relocation option if the diet goes to shit). I can’t even begin to tell you how much I envy those people who regard fat and skinny as having equal merit in the body stakes. I’d give my right arm to feel like a goddess instead of a moose but I just don’t see a world where that’s going to happen. After almost fifty years (*weeps * HTF did that happen) my beliefs are pretty hard-wired into my DNA.

So if someone tells me I look nice, I’ll smile and accept the compliment but it doesn’t land, you know? When the asshole tells me I look fat, that lands. Bad lands every time. The trick is, taking the hit and using it to spur you on to a better place…I’m on it.

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Sunday Check-in

Diet update, In the here & now, , ,

pup

I seem to recall making a rash statement last weekend about using Sunday posts to give you an update on my progress. I’m going to have to apply a little creative thinking if I want to keep you occupied for longer than one blink of an eye, diet updates are something of a challenge when you’re averse to standing on a set of scales.

For those friends who are new to my blog, welcome and to save you wading through past posts, I’m benchmarking my success by size not weight – me and the scales, well we have a ‘thing’ you know? They bring out the diva in me so I avoid them wherever possible, and  working  on the principle that if I haven’t cheated on my diet, I’m bound to be losing weight,  giving them a wide berth means one less opportunity for the asshole in my head to attack my mood if the needle hasn’t moved as much as I’d hoped.

So two good things happened to me this week – my friend at work looked at me and said ‘you look thin today’ – bear in mind this is all relative, I am about as far from thin as it’s possible to be, but when the weight does start to come off, it’s not unusual for it to come off my face first, so I suspect that’s what she meant – it did prompt a cheesy grin and a feel good factor of eleven on the one-to-ten scale!

The other huge thing to happen this week which has caught me completely unawares is the incredible support and messages I’ve had from around the world from people who have dipped into my blog and taken the time to read and respond to my posts – truth be told I’m a little bit overwhelmed.

Sean and Jack, who both have well established blogs very graciously allowed me to signpost their respective sites on my ‘Interesting Stuff’ page, and reciprocated with a link to my blog from their own pages, which has sent visitor numbers into overdrive! I’ve found myself turning into a geek, looking at graphs and getting very giddy when pins started dropping left and right – I’ve had visitors from seven countries in the last 24 hours which just about makes me want to pee my pants.

Being serious for a minute, the amount of people who have reached out and offered words of encouragement, or emailed me and shared their own story has been nothing short of awesome. Exhilarating! Touching.  To the asshole in my head, stick THAT in your pipe and smoke it…there’s a posse of us now and we’re all motoring through this together.

One of the popular motivation theories for keeping on the straight and narrow if you’re in this for the long game is apparently to build a really strong support network. Well bugger me, isn’t that the truth!  I feel on top of the world. Thanks for reading, I feel the support and I’m sending it right back at ya 🙂

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Essential Lady Maintenance

Freeform thoughts, In the here & now,

dog hair

Now, as the asshole pointed out earlier this week, I am overdue for a haircut so I’m headed to the salon this morning. I’m going to have a colour treatment too, fool the silver into posing as blonde, as you do. All sounding good so far? It’s probably the two most miserable hours I’ll spend this month. I look forward to hair appointments as much as my dog looks forward to going to the vet.

We have different stressors obviously…he worries about the thermometer, having had several temperature checks by stealth over the years. It’s the only time he ever sits without being asked and stays sitting. Me, I worry about leaving the salon with my hair styled in the shape of a cauliflower now I’m flirting with fifty, and I’m fat.

What if, the trendy young string bean wielding the scissors can only visualise that cauliflower hairstyle when she looks at me?  What if, my request for a soft and choppy layered look falls on deaf ears because it’s clearly too edgy a style for me, in her youthful skinny opinion? What if I come out of there looking like my mother?

I  will be forced to sit in a chair which is a bit too small, in front of a full length mirror, draped in a black nylon cape for two hours by a skinny girl who will cover my head in tinfoil and bake me under a heat lamp. I don’t do mirrors as a rule, but today I shall be forced to sit and stare at myself for TWO. WHOLE. HOURS.

It’s going to be torture. All I’ll see balanced on top of the big black dome of a cape is several chins followed by chubby red cheeks topped off with a head full of little silver squares…the asshole in my head is going to think all his Christmases have come at once.

But I tell you what, now we’re talking, in terms of diet motivation – by the time I leave that salon, having spent the best part of my morning staring at my living breathing ‘before’ photo, if that hasn’t added another layer of glue to the cake shield nothing will – bring it on, I say. Asshole, do your worst – fat face? Yes but it won’t be as fat tomorrow. Chubby cheeks? Yes but not many wrinkles – you don’t get wrinkles in a balloon, BOOM BOOM! 

I even have faith that my hairdresser will give me the cut that I like. And when I’m skinny, she can knock herself out and style it in the shape of whatever vegetable she likes…when you have cheekbones in place of hamster pouches even cauliflower haircuts look foxy 🙂

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