Tag Archives: feeling the love

All Toes Present And Correct

In the here & now, ,

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So, as we head north on the train home, I’m feeling a tiny bit flat that all the excitement is over you know? I’d only been blogging for about four months when entries were invited for these awards, so for roughly half my blogging life this has been running in the background.

I’m sorry I didn’t bring it home for you guys…I would have loved to of course, but the winners were so talented and they deserve every bit of the recognition they got last night. My friend asked me earlier if I was disappointed, and you know what, I found it really hard to answer. I am, but at the same time I’m really not.

Judging by some of the outraged emails I’ve had from you lot, I think you’re definitely more fed up than I am, in fact if the judges have any sense they’ll find a safe house and stay there for a bit!

Awards are lovely, and being a part of all this has been awesome but I’ve never lost sight of the fact that I started this for me. I started writing as a way to keep my hands busy and wrestle my head into the sweet spot so I could unzip this fat suit once and for all, and no matter how much I joke about stuff, I make sure that every post helps me to move my head on to a better place. Your lovely company, and your feedback and your chatter has become a priceless part of my journey. And it’s working, so please don’t be too down that I don’t have a trophy to polish…I have everything I need right here ?

It was a great evening, and in spite of my strappy not-built-for-fat-feet shoes I’m happy to report that all my toes are present and correct, if a little pissed off. Nothing that a couple of days in Uggs won’t sort out, right..?  And I must thank you all for your lovely compliments when I shared the pictures on Facebook…you made me feel like a million dollars, and my boy seems to have gained a new fan club too, much to his bemusement.

Between yesterday’s sightseeing and a bit of shopping we’ve walked for miles, as if last night’s shenanigans weren’t enough for these poor old feet. But I’ve kept a watching brief on my diet, and I’ve earned the little treats that might have accidentally found their way through my chops…it’s all about balance, right? Mind you, the cooked breakfast in the hotel this morning was served on a plate the size of a saucer, so the string bean Gods were clearly cheering me on from the sidelines.

Life returns to normal tomorrow…it’s a bright shiny new Weight Watchers week and I can’t wait to get at it. Thanks so much for your immense support over the last couple of weeks, and for getting giddy right alongside me. I got goosebumps last night when I saw our blog in the spotlight, and I’m just immensely proud of what we’ve built.

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Oh, and in case you’re wondering…yes the man on stilts was resting his nickie nackie nooos on my shoulder. If you look closely you’ll see a touch of hysteria behind my smile ?

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Shouting About The Hard Stuff

Reflections on past times, , ,

shouting

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.

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Helping To Mend Me

In the here & now, ,

hugs

I’m incredibly touched by all the lovely notes and thoughts and messages you’ve sent following my inadvertent gymnastic incident…what a response, honestly! I can’t remember the last time I felt so cared about. I mean my boy looks after me in his man-child way of course, which has even involved doing extra chores uninvited over the last couple of days whilst I’ve been hobbling around feeling sorry for myself. The pills and potions are definitely helping, and I feel very wrapped up in this wonderful cradle of support.

It was a similar thing the other day, when I talked about my obsession with Moussaka, despite it being really high in terms of my food budget. The ink was barely dry on the page before you started sending me low-point adaptations of moussaka recipes, which was awesome, and it sort of got me thinking about stuff. You know me by now, and the way in which my head tends to wander off at a tangent when something strikes a chord. I woke up this morning feeling remarkably clear on things which I’d only half acknowledged before. I love it when that happens, you know?

This blog, and the way I set out from day one to be really honest with firstly myself, and then when I picked up a bit of company with you guys too, is probably the first time I’ve ever presented anything other than a bright and breezy hard shell to the outside world. I’ve never been particularly good at vulnerability, you know? Chinks in my armour..? No, that would never do. Help..? No, not me I’m good thanks, I’ll manage. Sympathy..? Fuck you, I don’t need your sympathy, I’m doing fine. I still shudder at the thought of sympathy, if I’m honest.

It’s always been about putting my game face on and just cracking on with stuff, and never showing if something hurt, or even that I might be struggling. Why? It’s complicated. Some of you are familiar with my dad’s story (which you can see HERE if you’ve not seen my fundraising page) – I had to grow up real quick and be strong as a little girl, and I guess it just stuck. Strong with a hard shell is all I’ve ever known how to be, and yet on the inside I’ve never been like that at all. Fake it ’till you make it, right? If that’s what you choose to show, that’s what people will see.

On here, it felt different. It helped, because I kind of did it in stages. At first my words only had one reader, and that was me. Then I invited a handful of close and trusted friends to peep inside the shell, and I got comfortable with that too. Nobody judged me. Then my friends shared it a bit more widely and that felt okay too, because it was with strangers, you know? I didn’t need to look them in the eye and I could carry on being honest.

In between the jokes and horsing around I peeled away the layers and laid stuff bare. Painful stuff. Certainly stuff I’ve never shared with anyone before. And the most unexpected thing happened…talking about stuff in what feels like a really safe environment, and realising that nobody keeled over in horror meant I gradually got more comfortable with sharing what I thought of as the dysfunctional bits of me. And I’ll tell you what, that feels truly liberating.

I am not the only one who has an asshole voice on speed-dial, nor is the concept of a self-destruct button unique to me. Turns out I’m not that different after all. Turns out that dysfunctional is actually quite normal. Who knew that? I didn’t. I have no need to hide. And I don’t need to be perfect for people to love me.

And you know what else..? It’s okay to let people help. Being vulnerable doesn’t result in me being marched out of town. If anything, people have embraced me because of my vulnerabilities, and not in spite of them and that’s been the biggest revelation of all. That’s acceptance, you know? I love the fact that I can tell you that I don’t have all the answers, and you all pitch in with stuff to help.

Honestly, it feels pretty good. The medication I got yesterday is helping settle my black and blue arse down, but you lot are doing a far better job than the anti-inflammatories in helping me heal…you should come on prescription  🙂

 

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Tea For The Posse

In the here & now, ,

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I woke up today to a message from a company who want to send me a freebie, in exchange for me doing a review of their product on our website – how exciting! Well, that was my first thought. Let me wind back a few steps…do you remember when I went to meet all my fellow UK Blog Awards finalists one evening a few weeks ago in London? Quite a few people mentioned back then that they regularly got offered free stuff, and I remember thinking then that maybe I should muscle in and start blogging about holidays, or fashion or something where lots of interesting free stuff might come my way…I love a bargain, me.

So there was much giddiness at Skinny Towers this morning, I kind of feel like I’ve arrived. Except there seems to be so many rules about how to manage stuff like that, that I immediately started stressing and my biggest worry of all of course, was what if I didn’t like the product? What if it tastes like feet?

It’s a range of teas, which allegedly help you detox and lose weight, and that all sounds really amazing but I’m not sure it’s something I’d get on with. I mean I can’t imagine that I could add a dash of milk and one sugar and drink it as I’m doing the washing up, you know? I think I’d need a yoga mat and a strappy top and a clear complexion with no wrinkles. And a serene expression, which has never been my forte.

I’ve never been very good at funny teas. I have a friend at work who’s really into fruit teas. They always smell amazing, and there are no calories in them at all so you could drink them all day long. But they confuse my senses, which kind of makes me suspicious you know?  They smell like guava, or blackberry or some other exotic thing, but they never actually taste like they smell, and that messes with my mojo. Invariably when I’ve tried them, I find they just taste of feet.

I think I’m going to have to decline their offer, right? It doesn’t feel right to accept something that I’m fairly certain I’m not going to like, and quite apart from that, this isn’t really the kind of blog where I’m bringing you the latest trends in this or that anyway, is it? You’re not used to me saying do this, or try that and it makes me feel a bit weird imagining myself in that space.

If I’d set myself up as some kind of expert, or had set my stall out as the blogging guru of weight loss, you know, someone who dispensed advice and guidance left and right then it might be different. But all I really do is share with you the inner workings of my head, which I’m constantly trying to wrestle into the sensible zone, whilst simultaneously squashing the asshole voice and doing the best I can on my own journey down the scale. It’s about what turns lights on for me, rather than what might work for you, and that’s a subtle but important difference.

I do know that you listen carefully to the words I throw out there, and I’m regularly touched by the messages I get where you tell me that you’re relating and finding it helpful as you navigate your own journey. I love it when that happens, it honestly gives me the biggest buzz ever. So I’m really conscious that everything I write or talk about has to come from my heart, like it always has, otherwise it won’t be authentic.

That said, I’d just like to make it absolutely clear that if anyone from Chanel is poking around the blog, the same rules wouldn’t apply to your handbags, right? If you want a review writing about how a fat lass from Yorkshire feels carrying a piece from your latest collection, I’m very happy to oblige. I’ll say whatever you like, and it’ll be the best review you’ve ever had, I guarantee it 🙂

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I Could Have, If I’d Wanted To…

In the here & now, , ,

clothingrackSo yesterday was a better day for me, on a number of fronts. Firstly, work was a little less manic. I had time to breathe, which is always nice. In fact more than that, I even had time to get out at lunchtime, and that hardly ever happens. A couple of the guys in the office were going up to a big retail outlet near to where we work, and I took my head out of my bum for an hour and tagged along for good measure.

After a quick mooch around we went into Marks and Sparks so they could grab lunch from the food hall. Me, I’d taken lunch to work and already eaten it – hey I was hungry, once the little hand is heading for twelve, it’s fair game, right? So I waited for them in the clothes section, and had a poke about, as you do. There were one or two really nice things that caught my eye, and I damn near fainted when I realised they had them in my size!

I mean, before we all get too giddy I’m still in size sumo, but I was in a shop that wasn’t a fat girl shop, and they had really nice stuff on their rails to fit me. As realisation dawned, I just kind of stood there, grinning like the village idiot, looking at this beautiful turquoise linen shirt and trying to figure out how many years it’s been since I walked into something other than a fat-girl shop and walked out with something new. I wish I’d bought it. Except it’s not quite payday so I didn’t, but the point is I could have, if I’d wanted to.

What I wanted to do was fist-pump the air, and run around the ground floor of Marks and Sparks waving the turquoise linen above my head singing I’m too sexy for this shirt at the top of my voice.

I didn’t have to admire the jewellery, or pretend I was interested in the bag section, or the cosmetics, whilst normal people browsed the clothes. I could browse the clothes without fear of being laughed out of town because I’m a skinny-girl-in-training, and I’m officially in the club, you know? That club where members can wear what they like, instead of what fits.

I was still riding the wave of euphoria later in the afternoon (and wishing I’d bought the damned shirt) when bugger me, a colleague walked into our office and said MY GOD! Look at you, you’re wasting away!! I mean, I’m clearly not…I stand five feet five and a half inches tall in my socks and I weigh nearly nineteen stone so I’m hardly teetering on the verge of malnutrition, but still. It’s the biggest buzz ever when people notice I’m losing weight, and are kind enough to comment. It all helps to spur you on, right?

So, all in all, yesterday ranks number one day in my week so far, and you know what, days like this are going to keep on coming 🙂

 

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