One of the thoughts on yesterday’s post from Margaret made me howl with laughter. In case you didn’t see it, having just read about my love affair with the big fat leather recliner and how I’d been reluctant to haul my ass out of it, she suggested I kick it out into the yard and torch it. Once I’d stopped chuckling I came out in a cold sweat at the prospect of getting rid of it. I mean it’s so comfy…the comfiest chair I ever owned. I couldn’t.
I know it’s got very close links to my old life, as in I’ve spent years letting the big old frame envelop my big old arse and tip me back at the push of a button to the optimal angle for scoffing cheese-balls in front of the telly. But I’m hoping I can continue my love affair with it in my skinny life once I’ve shed the fat suit. I’ll just leave out the eating bit, and maybe self-impose a few ground rules, you know? Must do x, y and z first before any contact can be allowed between arse and seat cushion…
Thing is, I’m a bit tied to that chair. I don’t mean in a dodgy Fifty Shades of Grey way obviously, I’m too old for that shit even if there was a bloke brave enough to take me on. But daft as it sounds I’m really attached to it. I mean aside from the fact that it’s a great chair, it totally lends itself to the fact that I like to sprawl.
In the comfort of my own home, I can’t remember ever really sitting in a chair with everything where it should be you know? Feet on the floor, arms on the arm rests and so on…other folk did that, but not me. Even as a kid I remember watching TV whilst sprawling on the sofa, because…well, chairs were for the grown-ups. So even though I am a grown-up now, the fact that the chair kind of unfolds itself and offers a perfect platform to drape whatever bits of me wherever I like works, you know?
Given that I’m not inclined to go cold turkey and cut all ties with it, there’s definitely a pull towards my old life that I need to watch out for, which is more pronounced when I’m sprawling in that chair. Remember in the An Old Shoe In The Gutter post, I talked about how getting a new TV knocked me sideways because all I wanted to do was lay in the chair and eat whilst I watched it? There you go…my head just seems to make that association. I need to learn to disassociate, you know, cut ties with the memories of being a lazy bum rather than with the physical objects. Basically get over myself.
There are a few people I know, or know of who’ve taken pretty drastic action to ensure that they don’t repeat destructive patterns associated with their former fat life. Sean Anderson, one of my favourite weight loss transformation bloggers cut all his ties with refined sugar a couple of years ago because he figured out that if he didn’t, he would put his food sobriety at risk. That’s a bad-assed move, because it really restricts your food choices, but it works for him and I’m glad it does. I’ve considered it myself but just like with the armchair, I’m not quite brave enough to flex those scissors. I’m not sure enough that I need to.
That said, if I get to the point where the armchair once again becomes synonymous with cheese balls, it’ll be out in that yard quicker than a flash, you can trust me on that one. I’m curious, is there anything you’ve had to cut all ties with in order to move forward with your new normal?
