Saturday, July 21, 2007


We all know it stands for stands for Premenstrual Syndrome. For me, this usually means Polish off Many Smörgåsbords, Peruse Many Stories, Pettifog My Spouse, Punish My Self, and let's not forget Pulverize My Scales (due to water retention.) All of which adds up to Pretty Mean 'n' Scary.

The other night I did eat a wide variety of stuff and plenty of it, but that's been the only PMS binge I've had this week, and in years gone by I certainly wouldn't have called the amount I ate a real binge! I mean, shit, I went to bed and didn't even have the faintest hint of indigestion. And it only lasted one day. WTF?

Oh and for those that are keeping count, I got weighed yesterday by the nurse. I had on shoes and all my clothes; drunk a bottle of water on the way there; eaten breakfast before leaving the house plus drunk nearly another bottle of water; we can't forget the PMS bloating; and the scales said 226 lbs. Now, I remember a time when I'd be praying for that number to appear when weighing in naked and after going to the toilet to ensure every spare ounce of matter that could be gotten rid of was before I stepped on those scales. I haven't weighed at the doctor's for quite some time. And the only reason I did so this time was because I figured they'd need to know my weight in case I needed medication. Truly, you don't have to weigh if you don't want to. Was flabbergasted the first time I told them I'd rather not weigh. They had assumed I'd liked to know, but since there was no medical reason to, I didn't have to get on the scale. Score one in the victory to beat my obsession with the scales!

Oops, got distracted. PMS. Funny thing when I'm not eating my emotions away, even my hormone induced ones, I have to feel them. And apparently there's a whole lot of them. This morning after Alaskaboy had gone to work, I wrote my morning pages (an exercise from The Artist's Way) and during them, I had to pause and go grab my teddy bear and have a bit of a sob fest. Had cried a little before, because I missed having my family, and Alaskaboy around, always fun when he goes back to work after a vacation, but I let it all hang out at that moment.

After pages were written, I toddled off to the kitchen to make breakfast. Got out of the freezer one of the homemade hamburger patties and stuck it on a plate, then microwaved it to warm up. Wandered back through the house and looked at all the things that piss me off about the apartment (at least today in the mood I was in. Tomorrow it'll probably be different things.) And then I thought of all the things in my life that currently piss me off, and when the microwave beeped I walked back to the kitchen to get the burger out. In the process, I detoured past the couch and picked up one of the boomerang pillows lying on it and beat the shit out of the couch.

Feeling a little better I got out an English muffin and popped the burger into it and took a bite. I'd forgotten the tomato sauce (ketchup) and after swallowing the bite I put some sauce on and then went and picked up that same pillow, placed it against the top of the back of the couch, bent over placing my face against it and screamed for all I was worth. AAARRRRRGGGGGGGH!

This time I had the whining and keening kind of crying going on after I'd finished doing that. Ate most of the burger in between sobs, and then picked up a half box that had been pissing me off for days. We'd gotten it from the supermarket to help carry in some groceries, and of course never taken it out to the bin once we were finished with it. It'd been sitting on the side of the narrow walkway into the kitchen for nearly a week. To be sure it was on top of a case of San Pellegrino water, which we have nowhere else to sit just yet, but the case of water I could handle, that box I couldn't any longer.

I picked it up and hurled it at the couch. Then went after it. I picked it up, tore it open it so it was now pretty much laid out template style and said “Grrrrrrr” several times at it and maybe threw in a few more Arrrggghs. Then I put it on the carpet and jumped up and down on it a few times for good measure! Hurt my ankle a little as thongs aren't the best thing to be doing high impact jumping and stomping in, but eh, I felt better afterwards and the pain went away after about five minutes.

After all this wild emoting, I was exhausted and went off for some of that rest that the doctor had prescribed. But most importantly, I was binge free and I'd expressed all that rage, fear, anger, etc without hurting anyone else. Or anything else, like I could have by going out and attacking a poor tree with a plastic baseball bat. Never mind the legalities of actually doing that here where you can be sued for far lesser things. I could just see it now, the bat probably would have rebounded off the tree trunk and smacked ME in the head, or broken and gashed me somehow. At least the cardboard was inert, although the little turd did try and slip away on the carpet. Not that I blame it, 226 lbs of angry and hormonal woman is not something I'd wanna have jumping up and down on me!

So for today PMS can stand for Placated My Soul, and I did it without food. Man, does it feel good!

(I'm sure the couch and the box thought it was Premeditated Savagery!)


Friday, July 20, 2007

That explains that!

The lymph node that's been swollen for a little while now, with no other symptoms other than a slight feeling of fullness in the ear...that's called swimmer's ear. And I've got it.

Certainly explains my instinctual avoidance of the pool the last couple of weeks even though I was very hot and thought I really wanted to swim.


Thursday, July 19, 2007

I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request.

Our apartment is beginning to look like our home. Slowly but surely things are being put away and yesterday enough space was cleared on the floor that it was painfully apparent that we needed to vacuum. I had planned on doing it at some point and had asked Alaskaboy to finish off papering the kitchen cupboards. (We'd trialled putting down butcher's paper on the shelves since the paint they used tends to stick to whatever is placed in there for too long.)

We went and did some grocery shopping in the afternoon, as well as picking up a book that I'd had on hold at a bookshop and, since he was tired of borrowing mine, getting a USB thumb drive for Alaskaboy. Upon returning home I had some veg soup, one and a half boiled eggs left over from lunch, and cream cheese toast, Alaskaboy got himself something different for dinner. I read the introduction to The Artist's Way as I was eating, and realised I had to go back for a second pair of toast slices. Complete and utter emotional eating, but that's okay, I was feeling threatened.

Why threatened?

Reading this book, for me, was taking another active step to committing to being a writer. That, after the day before having bought a folding card table I can use for brainstorming or editing, or whatever. MY space for MY work. And I don't have to clear it off at the end of the day if I don't want! Previously, I'd been using the kitchen table. Not a good way to make myself or my work feel worth much of anything: Because clearing off the table to make and prepare dinner happens every evening, doesn't it?

In the background I heard the noise of the vacuum cleaner start up, but because I was engrossed in the book, I let it slide, assuming Alaskaboy was cleaning something in the study. Nope, he'd noticed the same thing I had and was vacuuming the place. That's all right, I was reading and was comfortable with him doing that as he really does like to clean. There's a reason the Dyson is known as the other woman in our marriage...Alaskaboy spends more time vacuuming with it than I do. LOL

I interrupted my reading, stood up and helped him move the chairs and stuff in the dining area so he could vacuum more easily. Also moved the fire extinguisher in the process. When I put it back, exclaiming how heavy it was, he offered to show me how to use it. I demurred and reminded him that I had seen it before. He offered to show it again, rationalising that the more I went through the motions the more I'd remember it if I ever needed to use it. I again declined. He picked it up and said something along the lines of, “It'll only take a sec.” and I said. “Listen to what I'm saying. No. I don't want to, I'm doing something that is very important to me. And I don't wish to interrupt it to look at the fire extinguisher.” (I didn't even swear. GASPSHOCKHORROR)

He looked at me a little funny but then put it down and went back to vacuuming. Big moment for me especially in light of all the people I've acquiesced to “for a second / few minutes” or “We've already gone this far, a little more won't hurt” or “just this once” in order to keep that boat on an even keel! (My stomach's churning thinking about some of those times as I write this.) I stood up for myself tonight. I didn't try and justify it by telling him I was reading a book related to my work as a writer, didn't tell him anything other than, “I don't want to.” and he respected that. For that, I love him even more than I usually do.

Not five minutes later I asked him to look at a bit of the book that I thought he'd be able to relate to. When he had the time or the inclination,of course, and after marking it with a piece of string I offered to show it to him right then! (Tricksy little LSED, now that I think about it, isn't she?)
He declined as he was busy.

Then approximately fifteen minutes later I noticed he was measuring the top of the deep freeze. Well, I thought he was, turns out he was measuring butcher's paper. Straight away, I asked him, “Are you doing that because you want to, or because I asked you to?” My reasoning was that if he didn't want to, he should not do it because he has to work tomorrow and he should relax this evening and fiddle with computery stuff, like I assumed he wanted to be doing.

He was doing it because I'd asked him to.

The conversation went on for a few minutes more inside my head after that point. Each time I thought about it I came up with reasons why he shouldn't be doing it.

1.I could do it tomorrow.
2.It wasn't that important, and besides hadn't he just vac'ed the whole place?
3.He should only be doing it if he wanted to.
4.Wasn't there more important things to be doing?

On and on the listing went until I finally got to a point where I realised what I was doing. I was making all kinds of excuses as to why he shouldn't be doing it--because I was the one who asked him to! And had asked precisely because he has the talent for fiddly fart-arsery like this, and I don't.

Now, how fucked up is that? There's many a time I can't be bothered but I'll make him some dinner, or do things just because he's asked me to. How is what he did any different? Why is he deserving of courtesy, help and having his wishes respected, and I'm not?

Why the hell was I so uncomfortable because my husband was doing something for the sole reason I asked him to do it?

Just when I think I've got it all figured out, another manifestation of my low self esteem sits up and begs to be noticed. At least I'm paying attention and can work on it now that it's slapped me a few times in the face with a wet fish.

Anyone else find themselves doing anything similar? Not the fish slapping, but the feeling uncomfortable/strange/whatever when someone makes an effort on your behalf.

P.S. Check out Marshy's fabulous guest post from yesterday.
Yaks in Hula Skirts.
Need I say more? LOL


Wednesday, July 18, 2007

For The Health Of It

I'm thrilled to have been invited by Kada to write this guest post, and I've spent a good amount of time pondering what I should bestow on Her Fair Blog.

With the panic that has taken a stronghold in Western Society over this 'obesity epidemic' there has been an infestation of propaganda and products all geared to weight loss.

Weight loss. Not health.

While I love blogging and I love the fat blogging community, there are many blogs out there that make me concerned. I love finding blogs where a sensible, healthy approach to living is taken, and then of course, the weight loss follows thereafter. Many others out there skip the establishment of a sensible, healthy approach to living, and jump straight to the weight loss - having no idea of what it takes to keep off the weight, and being so focused on the numbers going down and the weight going down that they are willing to sacrifice being healthy if it is necessary.

After trying several diets - Weight Watchers, The Heart Patient Diet, The Three Hour Diet, Body For Life, Herbalife, I have finally realised that while I want to be thin, more importantly, I want to healthy. And fit. I'm not prepared to sacrifice being healthy for being thin.

And that means healthy in the MIND, as well as the body.

We can lead ourselves to believe that we can be 'perfect' all of the time - live off celery sticks and lettuce and exercise five times a day. The fact is that we are human. And we crave. And food is a pleasure to us, and being deprived of it is damn miserable. I'm sure most of you know where I'm heading with this. I'm referring to the vicious starve-binge cycle that seems to be part of the package of losing weight.

But. It is NOT part of the package of being healthy.

Only when, and ONLY when, you decide that it is HEALTH that you are prioritising, are you able to get out of the starve-binge cycle. You might make the decision to lose weight because of your health, but it is still the decision to 'lose weight', not to 'get healthy'.

Getting healthy is not just eating five plus a day of fruits and vegetables, exercising regularly, drinking water, and so forth. It's respecting your body's natural cravings, and understanding that your body is a complex object. It should not ever be summed up by a single number. Yet we do it all the time.

I was having a conversation with Kada the other day about a blogger that was excited about a new weight loss plan they'd started. They had just under 7 kilos to lose, which is about 15lbs. A safe, permanent loss is approximately 1lb per week, with some leeway if you're heavier or lighter. For someone who is heavier, then perhaps 1-2lbs per week can be handled. For someone who is lighter, then perhaps 0.5-1lb per week can be handled. What is the safe loss for you can only be established by you, and your interest in your body's responsiveness.

My body takes a lot of activity to get any sort of response, since my numbers are smaller. My Asian heritage means that you're a porker if you're above 140lbs. I have a bit of height which can smooth things out a bit, but I understand that genetically, my body behaves in a particular way. I put weight on around my stomach instead of my legs and hips, which continues to put me at a high risk for disease even though I'm in the normal weight range for the general population.

But I'm digressing. This blogger had 7kilos/15lbs to lose, and the stock standard number given out to everyone is that 0.4kg/1lb per week is safe. This blogger was impatient, and put pressure on herself to lose at least 1 kilo per week, because they didn't want to wait for four 'whole' months to achieve that goal. Then to make matters worse, this blogger discovered that others on the program had managed to lose 4 kilograms in the first two weeks, and began to try and achieve the same result herself.

This sort of dangerous approach to weight loss makes me very concerned, and I was discussing this with Kada. There are so many variables as to why other people could've lost 4 kilograms and how it might have been perfectly safe for them to do so. Or, it might have been very unsafe for them to do so. How do you know? The fact is, YOU DON'T. You could hypothesise - it could be because their starting weight was heavier, it could be because they dropped a lot of water weight, it could simply be because they forgot to take their coat off before stepping on the scales. Though you can never know this about someone else's weight. You can, however, figure it out for your own weight.

Both Kada and I felt the same level of concern. We knew that this woman's approach was not healthy, and would do her head in in the long run. That she was focusing on the weight loss, and not on the health. And as often does when I'm talking to Kada, we chatted about cravings and whatnot and how it is best to indulge in your craving rather than dreaming about getting married to a chocolate brownie or a creamy pasta dish, and then finally caving in to eat enough chocolate brownies and creamy pasta dishes to feed the whole of Sudan.

Though when you think about it - how odd is it for me to be able to chat on a sensible level to Kada, the intuitive eating goddess, when I am Marshmallow, the calorie counting nut? Kada is all about listening to her body, letting it tell her when it needs food, and what it wants her to eat. I, am all about looking at the numbers, the graphs, calculating averages, analysing trends, and making scientific conclusions.

Kada has achieved the safe, sensible, healthy approach to weight loss by taking numbers out of the equation. She has reduced the number of times she's weighed in, and doesn't even think about calories and grams of fat, carbs, protein, etc. She's realised that weight is a simple representation of a complex thing, and that for her, taking time away from the numbers helps her to understand the complexity of her body.

Meanwhile, I am at the other end of the spectrum. I'd like to think I've achieved a safe, sensible, healthy approach to weight loss by putting numbers IN to the equation. I have increased the number of times I've weighed in, increased the number of graphs, constantly assessing the number of calories, grams of fat, carbs, protein, etc. Though I have also realised that weight is a simple representation of a complex thing, but for me, I've put more time into the numbers, and have used them as a tool to understand the complexity of my body.

I like this quote from one of Kada's earlier posts:

The number on the scale lies you see. It said I've gained only a little. But what does that mean really? All the scales can tell me is the gross weight of my body. Just like I was a packet of sausages you'd buy at the butchers. It doesn't tell me my “nutritional breakdown” ie how much fat, lean meat, water, fillers etc are within my casing. But, unlike that packet of sausages, I'm more than the sum of my parts.
And she's absolutely right. Though HOW can I agree with her, when I'm such a scale nut? When I'm on and off the scale two times a day?

The one single thing that makes our journey and destination the same is our commitment to understanding our body, and to make our body healthier, forever. Not for twelve weeks, or two months, or whatever. The only difference between us is the tools that we take along with us. Kada is the one who hikes through the woods with the 'whichever way the wind tells us to blow' approach. I'm the one with the maps and the compasses and the calculators and all of the measuring equipment that says, 'according to my calculations, the wind is blowing that way, so that is the way we should go.'

We both don't put pressure on ourselves on how long the hike should take. Because we don't know. We'd *like* to think it'd take a certain amount of time, but really, how the hell are we supposed to figure that out? Our abilities are certain to develop and change along the way, never mind that the terrain will definitely get more rugged as we go along. And of course, there'll be distractions. We'll drop some of our supplies and will have to turn around to go back and get it. We could stub our toe on a log or something - or perhaps, just stop and inhale the fresh air and pause to observe the incredible wildlife around us. We're not going to say, "It takes the average person 2 hours to climb that mountain, though I don't want to wait so long, I'm going to aim to do it in 1 hour." We're going to see whether our quads are as strong as these 'average people' that we've heard about, and we're not going to risk our health by trying to overshoot this Goodness Knows What Data This Is Based On number. We're not going to beat ourselves up if we take longer than 2 hours to climb that mountain. We're not going to beat ourselves up because we took a detour since we swore we saw a yak wearing a hula skirt and it just was more interesting at the time and in any case, you can resume climbing the mountain once you're done dealing with the distraction whereas that yak won't be hanging around for very long.

So what is the moral of this story?

There is no single, predefined way that one can truly get into the healthy headspace. Where you can stand back and make an assessment of your health based on your own individual feelings or your own individual numbers. You decide what tools you need - whether you need more, less, or none at all. What matters is that when one starts focusing on health, weight loss is a convenient side product.

It's not an obesity epidemic that we should be worried about, but an epidemic of unhealthy behaviour. And weight loss attempts without a focus on health? Dude, that ain't healthy.


Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Snot Block!

Found a bakery whilst out driving today.

The reason I'm sharing this is because I found something that I never expected to find here...Vanilla Slices! And not just any old vanilla slice but a double decker one! With real custard inside! Thick, slippery, yummy custard like you get at a quality bakery, not the hard jelly-like custard you can find in some vanilla slices back home.

They had chocolate éclairs also. Real choux pastry, not donut pastry like some shops use here and try and call it an éclair. Real chocolate ganache on top, and also filled with the delish custard. At first I was disappointed that it wasn't cream on the inside, but oh boy was that custard good! The poor éclair didn't make it home, Alaskaboy and I scoffed it down matching each other bite for bite.

We managed to restrain ourselves from eating the snot block long enough to take a couple of photos (for brag points cause this vanilla slice has to be seen to be believed!) but then it was promptly chopped in half and consumed with much finger licking along the way.

It was approx 4" long and 2.5" wide and between 1.5" & 2" tall. YUM! (They did have smaller ones if you only wanted a little bit of a nibble.)

Here tis!

ETA: Sorry got carried away forgot to tell yas. They're called Napoleons here. So, keep an eye out for things called that elsewhere.


Sunday, July 15, 2007

That should be the end of THAT nonsense

Howdy everyone - this is Marshmallow, temporarily hijacking Kada's blog.

If you've noticed weird 'Read More' links appearing all over the place that don't actually do anything, that's my fault - Kada wanted to add a feature to her blog that allowed her to cut posts that were longer in length, and getting the 'Read More' to disappear from posts where it wasn't needed was a bit of a mission.

It should all be working properly now. :-)


Friday, July 13, 2007

Sweet Soy Saucey Goodness.

My Mum was telling me the other day on the phone how my brother has been using kecap manis lately, but she finds it too sweet. I haven't had any kecap manis since moving here, and so had a sudden craving for some after that conversation. Went out and bought some and made a chicken and veg stir fry.
Kecap manis...again something I had neglected to introduce Alaskaboy to, along with the deliciousness that is mint and basil together in a Thai dish. So a Thai-style stirfry is what I went with. Was pissed off that we didn't have any ginger in the house, but funnily enough, it tasted fine without it.

Here's the recipe if anyone is interested.
Thai Style Chicken Stir Fry.
Serves 2.

2 chicken breasts – cut into short strips. If you don't like chicken, go with equiv amount of prawns/shrimp
1 smallish carrot – cut in half lengthwise then on the bias
1 smallish zucchini - cut in half lengthwise then on the bias
Half a red capsicum – cut into strips
approx 5-6 button mushrooms - cut in half then sliced
sesame oil for cooking.
Approx 2 Tbs Kecap manis – a sweet Indonesian soy sauce
Approx 2 cups cooked Rad Na, Udon or some other kind of wide rice noodle (Don't want too many noodles they're just a part of the ingredients, not the main one!)

approx 2 Tbs chopped fresh mint
approx 1.5 – 2 tsp dried basil (or 2Tbs chopped fresh)
sambal oelek or chilli paste – to taste
1 clove garlic or approx ¼ tsp garlic powder
juice of half a lime

As in all Asian cooking, it is best to prepare all ingredients before starting to cook.

1. Put on a pot of water to boil for noodles.
2. Mix all of sauce ingredients together in a mortar and pestle or a small bowl/cup. Let sit whilst preparing other ingredients.
3. Heat sesame oil in wok or heavy skillet / frying pan, add chicken and stir until half cooked. Blanch carrots in boiling water.
4. Add veggies to wok and continue cooking for approx 3-5 minutes.
5. Add sauce ingredients stirring to coat well. (Now's the time to add the dry noodles to the pot of boiling water.)
6. Let meat 'n' veggies cook for another few minutes then add the kecap manis to the wok. Stir to heat through then turn off heat once cooked to your satisfaction.
7. Drain and add noodles to wok.

Was rather tasty if I do say so myself. :)


Thursday, July 12, 2007


If you see anything weird going on, sorry about that. I'm trying to work out how to make my blog do what I want it to!

Well, I'm asking and the lovely Raina is the one doing the work of head meeting desk. {hugs}


Wednesday, July 11, 2007

And the truth is...

Yesterday Alaskaboy and I were sitting at the table, enjoying the breakfast he had cooked. Two slices each of grilled cheese and tomato on toast.
We'd been discussing my inability to have a psychologist, any psychologist, answer or return my calls over the last two weeks--and whether or not this was a sign that I didn't really need one.

You see, these last ten days or so since I made my declaration that I was going to go out and get a real job and contribute to this family financially, I've had a major back step. All of a sudden I was weighing every few days, spending a lot of time doing avoidance behaviour and as a result I've put on 4-5lbs.

It doesn't help that since I've been losing weight and getting in touch with my feminine side that I'm actually noticing my ovulation symptoms. Twinges in an ovary, sore, slightly swollen breasts, with very sensitive nipples; which lead to fears of being unexpectedly pregnant. (This happened last month as well. THIS month I took a test. Negative.)

Then I discovered strange lumpy bumpies under my left armpit and panicked for two days straight...until I realised it's the fat breaking down. No longer firm but more like cottage cheese. And of course with less fat on my body I'm discovering all these muscles, and ligaments and other things under my skin as well. Like lymph nodes, milk ducts, bones, glands and things that really do feel weird when I've been used to feeling nothing but firm fat.

All this stress and anxiety about my physical self was great to hide behind. Plus the addition of mental anguish. Revelling in it was great!
But, that's not what's really wrong. Here's what's happeni--
Nope, nope, nope. Don't want to face that. Surely there must be something wrong with me, so I NEED to see a shrink.

During last week it pretty much all came to a head. Days of rage made for an uncomfortable existence. Finally the reason for the rage came bubbling out one night and I cried out to Alaskaboy and the universe. “I don't want to go out and get some part time job. I don't want to be a volunteer worker. I'm a writer. I want to write! I'm an author. But, I'm afraid you resent having to earn all the money.”

Yeah. That's right. I'd been feeling pressured into having to go out and get a “real” job and bring in the spondoolies.
My grandmother worked. My mother worked full time when we were growing up, and still works permanent part time. My husband works long hours. And I was using these as excuses to hide behind. None of them were putting pressure on me. Well, Mum was a little, but she was listening to what I was saying, and I was lying to her. I was the one putting all the pressure on myself to go out and work because I thought I should be working.

Alaskaboy's response to my heartfelt cry was, “I only resent it when you're not writing.”

. . .”Oh.” said I, in a very small voice. Then proceeded to cry some more. Why do revelations always lead to tears?

The following day I told my Mum the truth. And she was fine with it. I felt like a bit of a dork for all those months that I'd been dancing around it with everyone and implying that I wanted to go out and get a job.

But, oh, the agony now that I've fully committed to being an author. I'm having to face the fact that I'm doing this. I will be pouring my heart, soul, sweat and tears into this job, and there's a very real chance that I'll be rejected over and over again. Also, with the added bonus of no guarantee of ever being published, let alone making enough money to help out with household expenses.

Rejection. Real rejection of something I care deeply about. That's the real reason I have only been playing at being an author. Fear of not making the grade when I give 100% of myself. Schoolwork, sports etc have all come easily. If it hasn't come easy, I tried something else, or pretended like I gave my all, but when it failed, I knew I hadn't given it my best shot so it didn't matter as much. This time, I've been backed into a corner. And I did it to myself.

All this work; the intuitive eating, the positive affirmations, the digging deep to unearth the crud from the past and free the real me, has lead me to this moment.

I am a writer.

And admitting that has scared the shit outta me.

“Courage is a writer's best virtue.” Those are the words that are up on my wall. Right beside my head where I'll see them every time I sit down at the computer. I've had the courage to come this far. I've jumped off the branch boys 'n' girls, and now I really am flapping for all I'm worth. Now, it's up to me whether I go splat or I fly where'er my courage may lead me.

Where has it led me so far? As we were eating that yummy breakfast, Alaskaboy asked me, “When was the last time you had cheese and tomato on toast?”
And for the life of me, I couldn't tell him.
There was a time when I ate cheese and tomato on toast two or three times a week. Some weeks it was every day. It's always been one of my comfort foods of choice. So, for neither of us to be able to remember the last time I had it, best we can gather is several weeks prior, is a huge thing. And it made me realise, that even though I had a brief lapse into a form of comfort eating and denial these last few days, I've come a very long way from where I used to be.

Today, I promised myself that, in seven weeks, when it comes time for my yearly check up (which I missed last year) that I'm going to give the doctor a pleasant surprise with how healthy I am compared to my last check up. In order to do this, I'm going exercise my body by doing things I love to do, exercise my creativity and my mind by writing and learning cross stitch and doing puzzles, exercise my soul by continuing to feel my emotions and say my affirmations.

Surely, if I'm living to the best of my ability, then I'll amaze even myself with how much progress I can make? I know that seven weeks ago I was nowhere near as happy and content as I am now.

Here's to the next seven fabulous weeks!


Tuesday, July 10, 2007


Sorry. This one isn't too coherent. I wrote it the other day when I was feeling hurt, depressed, and completely lacking in anything resembling creative juices.

“You're so lucky.”
Here, wanna borrow my rabbit's foot, horseshoe or leprechaun? Oh wait...I don't have any of those.

“I'd give anything to be able to eat that cake. I wish I was like you.”
Anything? Even give up your diet?
And you do huh? Okay, come on over and I'll tell you my life story.

“You can't eat that, it's bad for you!” know things about my medical history that I and my doctor aren't even aware of?

“You have to finish what's on your plate before you leave the table.”
Give one really good reason why, just one, and I will.
. . .
. . .
. . . That's what I thought.

Oh, and my personal favourites.
“That's cheating, you've got a better metabolism than me. It's not fair that you can eat whatever you want and still lose weight.” or “Intuitive eating is easy.”
Lose weight? You're kidding right? You who've lost so very many pounds, or didn't have that many excess pounds to start with, are bitching about the small amount I've lost in the past twelve months? How is eating what I want cheating? Is there a rule that says I have to be irritable, hungry, and jealous or horrified of anyone who eats a chocolate bar in order to lose weight?

Better metabolism, huh? Okay, that may be true for the people who have thyroid disorders or valid medical reasons for being overweight, or unhealthy. But, not for most of you. While you're over there having your spite attack, lemme tell you what I've been doing.

Hours of crying on the bed. Wailing for my Mummy like a lost child. Hurt, fear and pain that I don't even know the cause of, just that it's long buried stuff that I'm finally letting out.
Taking my childhood teddy bear to bed for reassurance two nights in a row whilst I felt those emotions.
Picturing inside my head just what I'd do if I could get my hands on a softball bat. Let's just say if I'd enacted that I probably would have gone to jail for both property damage and assault and battery.
Up til 6am several nights in a row watching dvds or reading books, just so I'd be tired enough to sleep without lying awake and thinking another thought.
Admitting to my mother things that I never thought I would.
Telling other people how I really feel about them.
And most of all admitting things to myself that I've been denying for a very long time.
Going out for an outing with that friendly woman...without Alaskaboy.
Going through my old address books and emails, deleting all the people and situations I've grown out of and am able to let go. Feeling the end of some of those friendships all over again.
Standing up for myself in several confrontations.
Admitting when I've had enough and need a break.
Sending the first draft of my novel out to a few readers.
Discovering more memories of different instances of abuse; mental, emotional, and physical. And dealing with them.
Looking at myself and my life and struggling to find moments of true acceptance.

All this, and more that I don't wish to talk about on here, is happening because of intuitive, look at that list and tell me intuitive eating is easy.

If it was so easy, wouldn't YOU be throwing away your diets and your hopes for a magic, quick fix and diving head first on in?

Dieting Is Easier, Truly.