Hello faithful readers –
(or perhaps unfaithful readers. You’ve been reading other sites as well, haven’t you? I knew it! I saw the way you switched windows as soon as I came into the room, and there was panic in your eyes and sweat on your brow… well!)
– anyway. As you can see I’ve moved house. After slobbing around Trish’s domain for a couple of years, stuffing chocolate wrappers down the couch and belching far too loud, I felt it was time to get out into the real world and do my own laundry. Trish is a rockin’ lass and has always helped out when I forgot my passwords or done something really stupid, so here is a big public thank you to her for all her kindness.
It feels funny to have a proper domain name. I’ve always been a fan of the .org thing. It sounds rather official, like The Dietgirl Organisation is a Fortune 500 company or a network of spies. Alas it’s still just plain ol me.
I’m hella busy at the moment so I know I’ve got broken links and all sorts of mess around here, if you spy anything please leave a comment or email me at dietgirl AT dietgirl dot org.
. . .
I’ve been a slackarse, I know. I just let things slide while my mother was visiting. I felt compelled to sit there with her rather than computering, since she’d come 10,000 miles or so to see me. I had planned to lose a kazillion kilos before she got here, since it had been a year since we parted, but instead I had to be content with about a 14 kilo difference.
It seemed enough. Unless she was being overly polite. But she kept sqwarking, “Look at you! You look great! You’re so skinny!” blah blah blah. She brought over a bunch of new clothes from Australia and I was half elated/half devastated that they were all too big. I’d definitely be a size 16 back home now. Oh I wanted to cry when I saw the price tags! Ten bucks for a t-shirt. Twenty dollar pants. And here I am spending the equivalent of $70 on a shitty pair of track pants for the gym. It was almost enough to make me pack myself up in Mum’s suitcase and go back to Oz.
At one point I was trying on some shirts and I had my (naked) back to Mum and she crowed, “You’ve got a WAIST now! Wow!”. I couldn’t help grinning. Then she had to ruin it all, “But look at those freckles on your lower back. Or are they moles? Have you had them checked out? Have you noticed any changes in them?”
“You should get them checked out. Take some digital photos and note where they are. Draw a map.”
“I’m not going to draw a bloody mole map!”
I think my fat isn’t the biggest change since I last saw Mum. I could tell she was surprised by my attitude change. She could tell I wouldn’t take any crap anymore, that I had a lot more confidence. The combination of moving far away and losing more weight has made me less needy, more independent. It really threw her for awhile. I’d catch her looking at me with a bewildered, sometimes envious look. I know she is struggling to get motivated to tackle her own health problems, and that was something we always had in common. And of course I was a lot bigger than her for awhile. The balance has subtly shifted in our relationship. I want to say more about this but will thunk it out better soon
. . .
This Sunday marks six months since me and my lovely guy got together. Holy crap, that went quick. But it also marks six months of me really going nowhere with my weight loss. Now that I’ve survived my first northern hemisphere winter and other crazy events, I really need to get my arse moving and quit the excuses. Nessajane left the most incredible comment on my last entry that really was the slap in the chops I needed:
DG, this is the time when a lot of people give up and make do…when they have reached a point in their weight loss when they feel that they are acceptably overweight and not grossly overweight.
You, my friend, need to re-visit some of your older journal entries and see how far you have come. Now is not the time for excuses, now is the time for bravery as this is a very courageous journey that you have embarked on.
So gather up all your courage and get on with the job so that one day you will find yourself coming out of the strain of the doing and going into the peace of the done.
I love that woman so much. She is right, I do feel acceptably, managably overweight now. And it’s easy to be complacent especially when you have the likes of your mother, sister and work colleagues telling you how nice you look, how very different.
But I know my body and the feel of my clothes and know I have not made much progress in the past six months. My efforts have not been consistent. A few weeks of full-on committment seems to be followed by a few weeks of slackarsed binging.
So I am not done yet and I do not want this to be the end. I want smaller, sexier clothes. I want muscle. I want to be fitter. So it’s time to get serious.