Well as my Grandma used to say, there’s no getting any sense out of me now. It’s that time…me and my boy are almost ready. As we speak he’s pacing the floor and getting used to the feel of his tux – his first black tie event – whilst throwing furtive admiring glances at the mirror. I don’t blame him, he looks incredibly handsome (even though I’m not allowed to tell him that 🙂 )
I’m all ready underneath but still in pyjamas. It’s strange, my nerves have gone and I’m ready to throw myself headlong into the evening. I’ve been practising my losing face, you know so I can look as happy for the winners as those movie stars who don’t bag the Oscar. I’m in that place where one minute I think OMG IMAGINE if we WON!! and then next minute Assholio chips in with don’t be ridiculous there are people here who actually know what they’re doing, you’ve got no chance, you’re just not good enough…at least I won’t have a TV camera in my face to beam a thumbnail of my disappointment around the world if one of the proper bloggers knocks it out of the park.
You know what, it’s academic at this point, right? It’s the first time something good has come of me being fat, and whilst I won’t be content until I’m living in an average-sized body inside the Skinny Town county line, being fat and being on this journey is what’s presented me with this amazing opportunity, so in your face Asshole, I’m in a good place. Where this love of writing came from I have no idea, but when I needed it the most, there it was and I’m grateful. Who knew!
It’s funny, there have been a couple of moments in the last couple of days where I’ve bumped into the fact that I’m very much still work in progress. Driving home from the office on Wednesday evening and feeling very happy at the prospect of five days off work and all the exciting things to come, I was acutely aware of the Asshole voice encouraging me to unplug the diet for the next few days…you’re on holiday! Just take your foot off ’til after the weekend…that’s always what I did before, you know?
Same thing yesterday when James and I were talking about the train. We travelled in the posh bit since it’s a special weekend, and they give you free food, so he was thinking out loud about what might be on the menu. Let me tell you how much I would have exploited that in the past, I would have chewed all the way way to London. My boy did, in the way that you can when you stand six feet three inches in your socks and have hollow legs.
The Asshole was jumping up and down like Rumplestiltskin at the fact that I wasn’t over-indulging on free stuff. I wanted to of course and I felt the familiar blend of resentment that I couldn’t and satisfaction that I wasn’t. But I didn’t, and that tells me that whatever I’m doing is working…I’m slowly replacing those old habits.
So here we are then, it’s time…I must go get dressed. I promise pictures tomorrow but if you follow me on Twitter you may just get pictures and hot-off-the-press updates as we go…