Category Archives: Reflections on past times

The Three Second Rule

Freeform thoughts, Reflections on past times, , ,

cake1Let’s talk about the three second rule – for the un-initiated, the three second rule applies when you drop a piece of food on the floor…if it stays there for less than three seconds, it is deemed acceptable to pick it up and eat it after first blowing on it or wiping it with your sleeve. It’s a rule most fat girls have in their kit bag,  along with toddlers who don’t care who dropped what and when, if it’s on the floor it’s fair game.

Like any rule worth it’s salt, it can be ignored…I mean obviously if you dropped something sticky in a pile of freshly mown grass you’re probably going to look at it and decide to bow out gracefully. But as a fat girl with a broken food filter, if I can possibly make the rule apply, I will.  The rule can even be extended or amended under the right circumstances. In my house for example, it’s a two second rule, because I have a three second dog and if you snooze, you lose.

Now, at first look you think, hmm…it largely depends on where you drop it. If you drop it at home, where you know it’s clean or at least you know which bits of the floor are clean, it’s a safer bet. At the very least, there are fewer folk likely to look at you with a combination of pity and disgust as you scrat around on the floor chasing after the morsel of whatever it is that you’ve dropped. Outside the home might be a bit more…icky.

What made this spring to mind was a recent incident on my trip. Bearing in mind, bar the odd birthday cake-related dilemma I had been really bloody careful with my food choices (evidenced by a one pound loss whilst I was away, I forgot to mention that yesterday in my haste to have a rant about the gremlins!) and so when we arrived at the airport to come home I’d mooched perfume and stuff in the duty free shop but avoided any goodies which might have been too hard to resist. My skinny string bean friend on the other hand had bought a massive bag of cheese flavoured crispy bugle thingies which under normal circumstances would have been right up my alley.

I wouldn’t be exaggerating if I said I covertly watched every one of those little pieces of paradise pass her lips in the same way that my pooch sits in his bed and quietly drools his way through human suppertime whenever we’re eating. She offered the bag around…a couple of people took a handful, one or two people declined, and then it was my turn. Would you like some..?

Hell would I! What I wanted to do was to take the bag out of her hands, straighten it up, tip it up and pour the entire contents down my neck. What I really wanted to do, encouraged by the asshole in my mind was to run back through the departure lounge, go into the shop and empty their shelves of these orbs of cheesiness, shoving them all into my hand luggage so I could munch them for the entire duration of our ten hour flight home.

But no…I was in control. Adjusting my halo, I took one. Said thank you and admired the way it looked…smelled it in anticipation.  It smelled so cheesy my mouth was twitching. And then I dropped it. On the floor. In the departure lounge, where lots of people had walked, trolley wheels had criss-crossed the carpet tiles all day long, and there were bound to be nasties lurking in their hundreds of dirty thousands. The moment had gone…the offered bag had moved on, and my cheesy bugle sat there on the floor just crying to be eaten. I shit you not I could have wept at the injustice of it.

In the three seconds I had to react, I looked, in what felt like slow motion at all the people buzzing around…had anyone noticed? Would anybody notice if I picked it up off the floor and put it in my mouth..? If they did, what would they think? And then I saw her…the skinny-string-bean-glamour-puss flight attendant who looked like she’d never eaten a cheesy bugle in her life. She saw. So it had to stay there. I kicked it under my chair with a casual sweep of my foot, looking for all the world like it was nothing.

And you don’t need me to tell you that I thought about that cheesy bugle all the way home 🙁

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Part Woman, Part Ostrich

Freeform thoughts, Reflections on past times, , , ,

ostrich

In the way that I often do when I’ve said something out loud – or written it on here which pretty much amounts to the same thing – I’ve been reflecting on something I referred to yesterday. Remember I talked about voicing my determination to stay skinny in between mouthfuls of cake..? It sounds so utterly ridiculous when I put it like that. But as much as I was being flippant yesterday in the interests of provoking a smile and a shared ‘eyes to the sky’ moment with you all, that’s literally what happened.

When I look back I can see myself walking away from Skinny Town, a place I loved and had worked so damned hard to get to. I was walking in the opposite direction without a backwards glance, sitting in my big fat leather armchair night after night with a family bag of cheese balls and a large carton of Haagen Dazs, having already eaten my way through the day. It’s all very well me looking back now and wanting to scream “what were you thinking?!!!” at myself…I don’t think I could answer that even if the Dalai Lama himself rocked up to help me find enlightenment. I wasn’t thinking – my head was empty. I mean yes of course, on a rational level I must have known that the wheels had come off but where I should have been having a word with myself…nothing.

I can’t seem to recall a single conscious thought about what I was doing and yet every day I watched myself get bigger and bigger. Discarding the skinny jeans in favour of elasticated waists and shapeless sweaters. I lived in the moment, and never thought about the pattern. The trajectory, you know? Where I was headed. From Skinny Town to Mooseville in one long straight run, stopping only to replenish the  supply of cake. You know what I think? I think it went beyond just not thinking about it…I think I made a conscious choice to ignore what I was doing to myself and stick my head in the sand. I was an Ostrich. And I’m struggling to understand why, I mean that’s not right is it…normal folk just wouldn’t do that. I mean, maybe they’d turn a blind eye to five pounds, or even ten pounds at a push. But one hundred and forty pounds…? No.

If someone had asked me why I wanted to put the weight back on, I would have looked at them as though they’d taken leave of their senses. I didn’t. And yet, I was.

You know I still don’t have all the answers, right? I know on here I come across as fairly well in control and self-aware, but it’s mainly because I’ve had some wonderful encouragement and feedback from you guys – I know you’re drawing inspiration here and there from the odd post, and the posse in general too which is amazing. I guess we’re all just figuring it all out as we go along. Getting skinny is a familiar journey – the unknown bit, the hardest part for me at least is going to be staying there. Pulling up the drawbridge and becoming a permanent resident of Skinny Town.

But you know, I thought it was worth talking about this today, because we’re all at different stages of this journey, and if just one of our posse is sitting in their armchair every night, walking away from Skinny Town without anyone there to hold the mirror up and yell WHAT ARE YOU THINKING..???  Well I’d feel like we’d let them down.

Please don’t be that person…don’t do what I did. Please.

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

What Would YOU Keep?

Freeform thoughts, Reflections on past times,

loveSo I was telling you yesterday about my epic fail in the hypnotherapy stakes, and it prompted me to have a look through some of the homework I had to do during the time I spent poking around in the dark corners of my head. I nearly fell off my chair when the word homework was mentioned, I mean I didn’t think I’d signed up for that…I didn’t even turn homework in on time at school.

As a grown up somehow I felt less of a need to rebel,  although given that I still regarded the therapy lady as a bit mystical I think perhaps I was just a tiny bit scared that she was hiding some eye of newt in her cupboard to use on wayward clients. And to be honest, if this was the woman who could unlock my head and break out the skinny girl, the least I could do was give it my best shot, right?

So she asked me what I would change about myself if I could start from scratch and design a new me. Well, let me tell you I was out of the traps like a greyhound. By the time I’d finished my list she was the one with glazed eyes. It was like giving a four year old the Argos catalogue at Christmas and asking them to make a list. I wanted to change quite a lot, as it turns out.  But then she started to play dirty, and asked me what I would keep. That was so much harder to answer.

I settled on my eyes. I’ve always had quite nice eyes I think. Sadly mother nature forgot to bless me with thick dark silky eyelashes – bitch, they’re probably in the back of her cupboard along with my long skinny legs and impressive chest which have never seen the light of day either – but they’re a nice green colour and with the aid of either mascara, or falsies, they can look quite striking.

Actually I should caveat that – they used to look quite striking. I thought I was doing really well in the face department as far as ageing was concerned until I started wearing contact lenses a couple of years ago, and after I’d tried to blame the first lot for being defective I realised with 20/20 vision I really wasn’t ageing quite as well as I’d thought. I sulked for a week.

And that was kind of the end of my list…a bit pathetic really. I did try and explain…my hair almost made the list. I like the colour, it’s very silvery blonde now (80% mother nature and 20% because I’m worth it 🙂 ) but it was disqualified due to its tendency to kink, curl and generally misbehave whenever there’s a sniff of moisture in the air. Do you remember Leo Sayer..? That’s all I’m sayin.

My knees, well they would have made the list if I’d been 140lbs lighter but sadly they were disqualified too on the basis that nobody could remember what they looked like in their former glory, and seriously, no matter how kind someone was being, they’re not ‘keep list’ material in their current state. One of them really hurts, all the time, and the number of dimples per square inch would only look appealing on toddler.

So yes, just the eyes. It’s funny, her question was what would I change, and what would I keep. I’m the one who made the leap to all the physical things, which shows you the level of my preoccupation with what I look like when I’m fat.

So, my homework was to reach out to five of my friends, and ask them what things about me they would keep if they had to re-design me. So I did. And all five answers made me cry. Nobody talked about my kinky hair, or my dimpled knees. Or my eyes actually…they talked about my warmth, and my humour, and the fact that they knew I was in their corner no matter what. They talked about how I’m always positive and how I challenge them in a good way and make them realise when they’re being a dick. They talked about lots of things that had chuff all to do with what I looked like. Isn’t that interesting.

Why don’t you try it? I felt ten feet tall and on days where everything’s a struggle, those words will help to light you up from the inside…promise.

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Magic Me Skinny Please.

Freeform thoughts, Reflections on past times, , , ,

IMG_3588

This is the first thing I see every morning when I open my eyes – yes, that’s right I really did write ‘I am awesome’ on my bedroom wall.  My mum, who was never particularly arty and who has, many times over the years looked at me like I had a screw loose just didn’t get it. She stood there last year, five feet nothing in her stockinged feet, admiring my newly decorated bedroom, enjoying the feel of new carpet under her toes, admiring the new throw and the window seat, and the new shutters, nodding her approval, then she saw the writing and just looked…confused. She genuinely thought I’d lost the plot.

I bet you get it don’t you?  I’d put money on the fact that a fair few folk in our posse would understand the need for validation before they’re ready to get up and at the day. It’s an idea I got from a great lady I spent a couple of years soul searching with…therapy makes me sound very pretentious and actually that’s not really how our paths crossed. Like too many times in the past, I’d decided to go on a diet – it was a Monday, of course (it always is) but prior to the actual day I’d not really decided what food plan I was going to follow, so of course I woke up full of enthusiasm but with no real plan or idea of how this diet was going to pan out. There’s a surprise said nobody!

So anyway, in the absence of a plan, and without wanting to fall off the wagon before I’d even left the house, which would have been a personal best even for me I decided that since one of the things I’d never tried was hypnotism, this might be the right time to have a crack at it. I mean on the face of it, come on it was a bloody marvellous idea. Somebody talking to me in a soft voice whilst I sat in a chair and relaxed, my brain all the time absorbing all the hooky spooky magic, and I’d wake up with a craving for carrot sticks and a hatred of cake. Get in, how come I’d never thought about this before..? So out came the laptop, I googled hypnotists in my local area and by lunchtime I was on my way to my first appointment.

I have to admit that first meeting didn’t go quite the way I’d expected. Well actually you know, I don’t really know what I expected. Mystic Meg maybe? She wasn’t wearing a kaftan or a turban and there was no sign of a watch on a chain. We sat and chatted for an hour about what I wanted (to be skinny) and how I might get there (penny’s starting to drop now that she wasn’t in fact going to magic me skinny) and I left after an hour feeling a bit deflated – that’s not how it happens on the TV. I was still fat, I still loved cake and I had no cravings for carrot sticks whatsoever.

But I went back. And then I went back again…before I knew it I’d been back lots of times. She did in fact agree to hypnotise me once – it wasn’t a great success, even I had to acknowledge that. After snoring my way through 45 minutes that I have no memory of at all I conceded defeat. I mean there’s relaxed and suggestible, and then there’s fast asleep with dribble leaking out of your mouth. Enough said.  But, over the course of a couple of years’ worth of going back I learned more about myself than most people could hope to know.

The more digging I did the more layers appeared and the more it felt at times that I was a hopeless case. I’d describe myself as still work in progress, although I’ve been on an extended hiatus from all the soul searching for the last year or so. It’s exhausting. And if I’m honest, what the blog has done for me over the last two months has probably given me more practical support than therapy ever did. But one thing that I realised as I turned over stone after stone is that I might be broken, wired wrong, fat and not getting skinny any time soon, but I’m still bloody awesome on the inside, where it counts. That doesn’t mean I’m comfortable in my own skin…you know I’m not. That’s why I’m here. But on the inside, I’ve got it all going on.

I am awesome. It says so on my wall.

Like it..? Tell your friends!
 

Game Of Thongs

Freeform thoughts, In the here & now, Reflections on past times,

holsI’m getting so excited about my forthcoming holiday – it’s going to be epic. Normally I’m a quiet vacationer – I have such a busy life full of work and other pulls on my time that my idea of holiday heaven amounts to utter relaxation when I’m away you know? On my last holiday I managed to read 8 books, get thoroughly pampered and I relaxed within an inch of my life. The plan is a little different this time – six giddy girlies heading off for a few days to celebrate my milestone birthday and looking at the itinerary, there won’t be much relaxing going on! There will however be lots of laughing, lots of shopping, and plenty of memories being made…I can’t wait.

There’s only one day in the four that we’re away where we’ve got time to chill around the pool – always makes me a bit wistful when I recall skinny trips where I didn’t need to worry about choosing a swimsuit with the type of engineering designed to contain and flatter quite so much body.  I use the word ‘flatter’ in it’s loosest possible term obviously – it’s black which is as good as it’s going to get. The asshole in my head is going to have a field day from the minute I put it on but you know what, he can stick it up his pipe…I’m totally going to style it out and give the impression that I’m one of those lucky people who don’t care what other people think.

There’s nowhere to hide in swimwear is there? I remember I took a trip a few years ago with a guy I’d been seeing for a few months – I was a big girl back then but not in the same way I am now. Even so, I’d spent the days and weeks leading up to the trip agonising over what I was going to look like on the beach. It didn’t even occur to me what he was going to look like – rookie mistake number one. Afterwards, when the trauma of seeing him in a thong for the first time had receded, I made a mental note to expand on the ‘no speedos’ rule which we’d discussed before the trip. He tried to justify it by insisting that we were in Brazil, and everybody in Brazil wears a thong.

I’m here to tell you that they don’t. And in any event, fifty-year-old butt cheeks flapping in the breeze like pillow cases on a washing line are N.E.V.E.R going to be a good look. It’s the one time I’ve felt confident that nobody was looking at my ass since the one next to me was the one putting people off their lunch. But kudos to him – he didn’t care. He was living his dream, and wearing a thong on Ipanema beach was it. Incidentally it was our first and last trip together, in case you were wondering…I’m all for live and let live, but I’ve got enough on worrying about what people will think about me without further complicating the equation.

With a bit of luck there might be a hairy-assed bloke in a mankini lounging around the pool at our hotel in a couple of weeks’  time to take the attention off this middle-aged fat girl in a swimsuit…I can live in hope 🙂

Like it..? Tell your friends!