Blimey, yesterday’s post provoked quite a reaction from you lot. I’ve had a ton of messages about it, to the point where I actually feel a bit fraudulent accepting all this love for being brave enough to talk about something so cringe-worthy. You all totally get how embarrassing it was.
At the time it happened, I wrote about falling out of bed on my personal Facebook page, much to the amusement of my friends. I made sure to leave out the bit about actually breaking the bed though…that was never going to make it into print. Until now, right?
I didn’t feel particularly brave yesterday when I was writing the post, in fact it’s a very weird thing…I felt detached, almost like I was writing about someone else. Don’t get me wrong, I can remember exactly how I felt as I stood there in front of the bloke holding the bed leg, with the hot flush of shame creeping slowly up my body, desperately wanting to be anywhere but there. And yet, talking to you guys about it yesterday didn’t worry me at all, I even smiled to myself as I wrote down the words and imagined you all reading the bit about getting my head stuck…it was funny.
That person, the one who was 62lbs heavier than the person inside my pants today seems like a stranger to me. She’s me, obviously, but at the same time she’s not me. It’s so hard to explain, but I think it’s got something to do with the way in which I’ve peeled away layers and layers of stuff over the last few months and laid it all out for examination. Between us, we’ve picked over the bones of all manner of crap, and every time I’ve taken a step forward, I feel one step further removed from the girl who broke beds and lumbered her way through life.
In doing all that, I’m conscious that I’ve sort of become a bit de-sensitised to some of the painful stuff. I can only liken it to having a baby, you know? You start your pregnancy feeling like your body is a private thing, with intimate places which are off limits to most. By the time you push the baby out you’re so used to folk faffing around with your tuppence that you barely look up from your crossword whilst they’re having a poke around.
I’ve talked about it all so much, it’s lost the power to hurt me. To bother me. I mean, I still remember the pain and the humiliation but I don’t feel it any more, I’m just reporting the facts about how life used to be. And besides, it’s all just between you and me, right?
You’d have laughed the other day. I had to provide some information for the people my boy works for – long story, he doesn’t exactly work for MI5 but it would take too long to explain why they need it. The form asked for my build, so I wrote fat. He was peering over my shoulder as I wrote down my details and he was horrified…mum you can’t write that! I hadn’t even given it a second thought. I pointed out the fact that I was only being honest, and quick as a flash he said yeah well under the question about facial hair you wrote NONE…if you’re all about being honest…
Cheeky twat.
Hello-I’ve been reading your blog from the beginning and have to finally post after your entry today. I laughed so much-I love the way you write! And obviously your story is absolutely inspiring as well. Keep up the great work!
Thanks Tannis! It’s lovely to meet you and I’m happy to tempt you out of the shadows 🙂 Knowing you guys are behind me is totally what spurs me on, so thank you for your support, it makes all the difference!
I am completely puerile but your final sentence made me laugh out loud! I really look forward to reading your post everyday. It never fails to make me smile and/or provoke serious thought. As for the bed. Are you sure you broke it? I’m glad it doesn’t bother you any more. Keep up the good work!
Aw thanks ever so much – I’m happy that you’re enjoying the blog and thanks for the encouragement!
Dee, I second what Mimi said! You are doing the work, including a diligent “unpicking” of what’s in your mind. Time is passing. You are becoming THIS Dee.
I popped into WalMart tonight just for a big bag of kitty litter, didn’t grab a cart. I carried it to the register. I haven’t been conscious of the change in my step, but walking through the store I sort of felt my heels hitting the floor….Do you buy dog kibble in 50# bags, or shift a carton of copier paper in the office? Try look at the number printed on it.
Oh my good lord I’d never thought of that…I buy it in 15kg sacks, and I can barely lift them. I’ve lost almost double! Who knew!
So…speaking of funny things, facial hair and get aways. We went to a nearby casino to stay the other night. They have one of those magnifying mirrors in the bathroom. I used it to put my makeup on because I can’t see without my glasses an I can’t put my makeup on with my glasses. So I thought the magnifying mirror would solve my problem. Well…instead of solving the problem, I got an UP CLOSE and PERSONAL look at my face. Every pore, every hair. I felt like I needed to shave. When I looked at myself from a distance, I thought, “Hey, not bad.” But that magnifying mirror was horrible. Facial hair. ha.
Oh Tracey too funny, was the same when I started wearing contact lenses…gutted!
Ah, the days before children when my “tuppence” (lol) was private property! Last year I had an internal ultrasound, they put the wand thing right up there, and the male technician kept asking if it was ok if he touched me etc and I was fine. The only thing I cared about was getting it over with so I could go pee, as the test required a full bladder.
Oh no! I often wonder at the blokes who go into that line of work!
Some things about us do not really change, but no one is the same person after six months of living life, that is if they are paying any attention and trying to learn and grow in some way, they aren’t. Isn’t that part of what the journey is about?
You’re right about not caring what they are doing by the time the baby comes. By the time i had my last one i probably wouldn’t have cared if the janitor had walked through, also.
Love your and your boy’s humor!
Haha yes, the janitor!
Clearly, your son is just as whip-smart and funny as you are. I laughed out loud (umm, same hair issues here).
I have *never* heard the phrase “faffing about with my tuppence (I’m from the US),” but think Faffing Tuppence would be an outstanding name for a punk rock all-female band.
Ha brilliant…maybe when we all get to skinny town we can form a band…rumour has it that Fleury’s quite musical and I’m game 🙂
OMG! I haven’t called it tuppence since I left England so to see this absolutely cracked me up. I love your boys sense of humour, a chip off the old block eh?
I loved your post yesterday, it moved me and made me laugh.
You know what Jo, he makes me laugh every single day! I’m happy that you’re still enjoying the blog ?