Hidey ho, old chaps! I’m on the train back to bonny Scotland after my couple of days in the ye olde English countryside. I’ve been massaged and manicured and now I’m ready to get back to reality.
Have to admit I’m feeling a wee bit fragile right now. I don’t know if many of you read my non-fat blog, but we found out on Wednesday that my permanent residency application has been denied. Basically when you marry a Brit you get a two-year temporary visa then after that time you have to prove you’re still a red hot legitimate married couple so you can stay together forever and ever in your British love nest. If they don’t think you’ve proved it, you’re oot, baby!
And whaddya know? The Home Office thinks me and the good Doctor G ain’t the real deal.
I have been through all the emotions over the past few days. First the knee-jerk reaction on my blog and generally feeling sick to the stomach that anyone could question our lovely wee relationship. Then anger because I know we filled out that goddamn tedious form properly and sent the correct documents. Then came a hysterical kind of bemusement because the rejection is just plain absurd and there is absolutely no logic behind it.
This was followed by my old friend PANIC, because this really could not have happened at worse bloody time. Like there is a good time for these things, but anyway. Everything is happening all at once and the pressure is a wee bit overwhelming.
You know those moments where everything builds up and you have to decide whether to sink or swim? Well, I allowed myself to splash around in the panic pool for awhile but now I’ve calmed down. I refuse to fall in a heap. I’ve got my lists and plans and thought out how to deal with everything logically. And I know me and my Scottish Companion are the real deal, thank you very much; so we will get this sorted.
. . .
The massage was nice, by the way. No paper pants, just strategically placed towels! I was too chicken to take off my undies but there were no major Fat Girl Freakouts.
It was bizarre how knotted my body was. There were great lumps of tension in my shoulders and arms and even in the palms of my hands. When she kneaded my back it felt like there were marbles under my skin. She even said my scalp was all stiff. Urrgh. Rather painful at times but still enjoyable!
I couldn’t seem to switch my brain off. This may sound bizarre but the whole thing made me extremely emotional. I kept thinking of my Skinny List and how I felt about my body way back when I wrote it in 2001. I always try and downplay how much the lard-busting process has changed me, I don’t know why. Perhaps a little embarrassment that I got so big in the first place, or defensiveness coz I’m "still the same person". But with a strangers hands poking and prodding the body that I used to feel so ashamed of, I couldn’t deny how much has changed. It was a strangely powerful moment, like the past six years rolled past my eyes in a Rocky-esque montage…
Shit shit shit. I dunno what’s wrong with me at the moment, I keep getting teary at inappropriate moments and the dude sitting opposite is looking at me funny. So I will sign off and gawk out the window instead. And I hope this entry doesn’t come across as self-pitying in any way. I am slightly scared but quietly determined. Keep calm and carry on, as they say. Hope you are all well