A Soupçon of Worry

On the surface of it, the prospect of working off-site for the afternoon is generally something I enjoy. We have lack of decent-sized meeting rooms in the office so if there’s a few of us squashed in for a longish meeting it can get annoying, you know? Besides what’s not to love about a change of scenery.

I was off-site yesterday with one of the teams I support, and our venue was a local brewery. As one of our suppliers, they were keen to host us and they’d even offered us a complimentary lunch. I was a tiny bit worried about that – I know it sounds silly, but you do when you’re sticking to a food plan and someone else is in charge of what’s on your plate. Whatever, I figured I could flex enough to deal with it and to conserve my daily points just in case, I made my porridge with water at breakfast time. Which, by the way is taking dedication to a whole new level because it tasted more like wallpaper paste.

Just before I left, I took a phone call from a colleague wanting to know what size shoes I wear. Weird question…um, size seven…why..? Turns out the brewery were going to kit us out and give us a full on factory tour. Excellent…except. What if ‘kitting us out’ involved actual clothes? And what if they got to me and looked me up and down before shaking their head sadly and pointing a finger…she can’t do the tour, we don’t have anything to fit her…old worries take a long time to die, right?

I needn’t have spent the next hour in the car worrying about it. As it turned out the outfit comprised nothing more scary than safety glasses and a bright red hard hat disguised as a baseball cap with a day-glo yellow high-vis jacket. Apart from looking like Ronald Macdonald it was all okay…but the fat-girl paranoia had kicked in big time and given me a very uncomfortable morning as I speculated about what might happen.

Still, on the bright side, it doesn’t hurt to be reminded with a sharp poke in the ribs now and again as to exactly why I’m on this journey. My days used to be filled with worries like that…which room is my meeting in and therefore which chairs are in that room? The ones with arms? Oh no my arse won’t fit in those ones. Oh no, I have to go there..? God that’s at least a ten minute walk from the nearest place I can park my car, I’ll be wiped out by the time I get there…maybe there’ll be somewhere I can have a rest between A and B…on and on and on.

I had to navigate my whole life worrying about the problems that being fat threw at me on almost an hourly basis. And now, I don’t. The legacy it’s left me with is the odd soupçon of worry here and there…well you know what, I can live with that. Nine times out of ten these days I worry for nothing but it helps to keep me grateful for the fact that I’ve escaped that life.

Something I’ll never take for granted 🙂

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8 thoughts on “A Soupçon of Worry

  1. Eventually all those “old worries” you used to have will fade. If the sharp poke in the ribs helps keep you on point for now so be it but it does get better.

    Have a fabulous great healthy weekend! I hope you get to do one of those treks with your friends a group walk always seems so fun.

  2. I JUST read your words in “Pick Your Miserable,” about “when I’m rocking my skinny jeans,” and I rejoice that you have a different life, the life you deserve, right now. Already! Rockin that, too.

    So, I thought about my stall – stalled on the track – this scenery hasn’t changed for WEEKS, & damn it is getting pretty tired. My weigh day slapped me with a reading of 1.1# up…. So, it is cling to the RR car like a catatonic squirrel. Is my life easier, calmer, than before I started this trip? Hell yes! Stay on it. Fleury

  3. Dee, I so get this. For me, the worrying isn’t just about food, but about everything.

    I used to think that worrying was okay. Because if I worried about the worse possible scenario, anything less than that which might happen would be okay. It was truly crazy. I was a pent up basket case. It’s taken a lot of work on me to widdle away at it, but it persists. This morning I woke up at 2:00 a.m., laid in bed as long as I could and finally realized I wasn’t going to fall back to sleep because I was worrying. Work has been crazy this week (and last) and I haven’t had the time to take care of my normal responsibilities. Long story short…I got up and just started doing my work. Turns out that in less than two hours, I was able to finish up EVERYTHING I felt I absolutely had to do. Amazing what you can do when your phone isn’t ringing constantly and no one is knocking at your door every 30 seconds. My anxiety is through the roof right now. It’s 4:05 a.m. here on the other side of the pond, but I know I’m done. So my worries are gone, but the anxiety sits.

    Last night I started worrying because I haven’t been to the gym since Tuesday and I’m like, “This is NOT good. ” Sometimes I think it would be so much easier to just hang up the worry and let go of it, but it’s part of who I am now and unfortunately, giving that up takes a lot more effort than just saying, “Oh, don’t worry about it.”

    1. You’re right Tracey, if you’re a born worrier it’s hard to control. I tend not to be but the whole thing to do with the size I was was never far from my mind. It was exhausting!

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