One of my biggest flaws over the years has been my tendency to look at life in a ‘Once upon a time’ kind of way – I’ve always been blessed with a really positive optimistic outlook, and whilst that’s great, I’ve learned to my cost that it’s best not to cross the line and expect life to mirror a full-on fairly tale…very rarely does that charmed life exist. Don’t get me wrong, there have been times – really really dark times – where fixating on a positive outcome has prevented my mind from wandering to places it might otherwise not have entirely recovered from, and that has served me well. But marry the optimism with naivety and blind faith that things will work out ok and that’s where things have occasionally descended into farce.
My problem has always been that I just don’t see the big red flags waving at me as I breeze through a given situation. Actually that’s not strictly true…I see them, I just don’t recognise them for what they are. To you and the rest of the world they would look like red flags spelling danger…to me, they look like bunting. They may as well have balloons attached. The only way I can describe it, is that sometimes the line between wanting something to be a certain way, and believing that it is that way gets really blurred.
The best examples I have are nothing to do with dieting…it’s a pity that my blog relates to dieting rather than dating because for every dieting anecdote I could share with you, I have ten which involve my quest to find Mr Perfect, many of which would make your toes curl and your hair stand on end. Following the incident in Brazil with the thong, which I covered in a previous post, I called off the search and have remained contentedly single ever since.
Much as a life companion is an appealing thought, my wish-list is fairly demanding and I’ve kissed more frogs than I care to admit. Hell I even married a couple of ’em. I have one of the best track records E.V.E.R for being drawn to fantasists, winos and weirdos, all of whom appear utterly charming to me so that’s definitely an area of my life which should remain undisturbed for now.
I’m trying really hard to anticipate the bumps in the road that I might encounter on the way to Skinny Town, so I don’t have to worry about failing to see them until the very moment I’ve face-planted and everything’s gone to shit. To be fair, whilst the question of relationships doesn’t directly relate to my weight loss journey, as anyone who identifies as an emotional eater would agree, often the force-field surrounding them can have a massive knock-on effect on the speed at which you can fall off the wagon.
I’d be very confident that should the opportunity present itself to remain locked in a room for the next 18 months, or alternatively be swathed in relationship-free bubble wrap, nothing will shake the dieting resolve or knock me out of the sweet spot. Therefore, that’s what has to happen…it’s part of my strategy.
Whilst I appreciate that’s a bit like someone who doesn’t eat chocolate saying they’re not going to eat chocolate, I’m nailing my colours to the mast on this one anyway. My life will remain a Prince Charming free zone. As you peel away the dress sizes there’s no getting away from the fact that your stock value rises on the relationship front. The smaller you become, ironically the less invisible you are – you’ll have to trust me on this one, having skittered up and down the size continuum several times I’ve experienced it first hand.
My fairy tale, on this occasion is the lite version, no Prince Charming required 🙂
