The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl

A Little More Action

I've been stuck in a perpetual state of Freaking Out for the past month or so. It's either right there in my face, intense and debilitating and bloody irritating for all around me, or it bubbles under the surface - a nice jittery background panic, just enough to cause insomnia.

There's nothing wrong per se, it's just that everything seems to be changing all at once. And I've always been rubbish with change. I tend to find a nice little rut, fill it with mud and roll around all comfy and safe for as many years as possible. Splash splash, wallow wallow! But then one thing changes and it seems to set off a chain of further changes and suddenly that cool pool o' mud no longer surrounds you.

If you look at it all with calm and rational eyes, you see change as challenge and opportunity. It really is positive stuff what's happening to me. But I always seem to have to go through a tedious period of Headless Chickening before I can embrace that. This involves funny breathing, spontaneous sobbing, making lists of things to do but being so overwhelmed by said list that I do nothing at all, etc etc.

You'd think when things are uncertain that that would be when you'd REALLY make sure to look after yourself and exercise and eat right. But nooo... the routine got chucked out the window. I have been moping on the couch, doing a few half-hearted DVDs or going for a bike ride only because Gareth spent an hour persuading me.

This isn't about fat or diets or weight loss, it's just that basic mind and body connection. Personally, when I deliberately move my arse and eat the fruit and veggies on a regular basis, I simply feel better equipped to handle the world. When mind and body are humming along together as one kick ass machine, I have the energy and self-assurance to muddle my way through challenging periods.

So why the bloody hell do I always abandon that connection when things get tough?

I've been drafting and deleting entries all month about this, because I am a paranoid loon and so many people I know read this now therefore I hate being a whinger. But this blogging malarkey has always helped me work through things and to GET OVER the Freak Out and GET ON with the action. So if you will indulge me today. What I am going to do is:

1. Draw a Microsoft Paint representation of my current state of mind, because Microsoft Paint really is an underrated as an artistic and therapeutic tool
2. Get off the couch and do my Muscle Max DVD then
3. Report back to you.

OKAY PEOPLE I AM BACK!!!

My abba-dabbas are screaming and my triceps are still shaking and I have gained perspective. Score!

A basic lesson I need to remember is that no matter how petrified one may be feeling, nine times of out ten that feeling can be soothed (temporarily or otherwise) by one or more of the following:

1. Fresh air
2. Exercise
3. A cup of tea

I feel much better. I feel kinda... rebooted. I will get back into my routine, darnit. Like I said, this isn't about weight loss, it's just knowing what my brain and body needs to feel capable and excited about moving forward, rather than terrified.

I am determined to be done with the Freak Out phase now. So it's on to the Action phase.

This arvo I am going to make a pot of veggie soup (with guest appearances from barley and split peas) then I am going to do the dishes and then I'm going to store all my summer clothes so there is more room in the drawers so I don't have to swear at the drawers when I can't find anything and can't close the fucking drawer afterward AND THEN I'm going to read some more of this book or tackle the Email Backlog of Doom and then I am going to figure out what the hell to wear for the first day of my new job on Tuesday (ARRRRRRGH no I didn't mean arrgh I meant YAY) and then I think I'd better have a bath.

Thanks for putting up with me, comrades. Bloody hell.

The Great Wall

I've spent the past two evenings stripping ancient wallpaper in our hallway and it's been quite exhilarating. I know I'm nearly 30 and definitely old enough to legitimately do such things to a dwelling, but DIY still feels like reckless vandalism. I kept waiting for the Mothership to jump out of the cupboard and say, "What do you think you're doing, young lady!?"

All those hours of steaming and scraping gave me a lot of time to ponder in a Calorie Flabshaw sort of way how wallpaper stripping is a great metaphor for weight loss. I reckon you can turn almost anything into a crappy lard-busting metaphor - chickens, bananas, sunglasses, making risotto (feel free to raise a challenge) - but wallpaper removal is particularly good and cheesy.

Why Stripping Wallpaper Is Like Weight Loss

• If you want good results, you're going to have to get hot and sweaty
• You start out thinking you'll blast it off quickly and neatly but it ends up taking a bazillion times longer
• At first it's almost fun... but soon novelty is replaced by NEVER-ENDING TEDIUM and you realise you're going to have do the same thing over and over and over and OVER again
• When things get dull, you look for shortcuts and/or alternative methods until you eventually admit that only time and hard work will do
• Sometimes you scrape away for ages and ages and the wallpaper won't budge, then just when you least expect it a great big chunk comes off at once!
• Things can look grim and messy when you're in the middle of it but if you persist it will come together eventually

At least I hope that one is true. Hmm...

. . .

In other news, I'm daydreaming about boots. Knee high ones to wear with frocks and skirts. I've never worn 'em before and I vow at the start of every Scottish winter, "THIS YEAR SHALL BE THE YEAR OF BOOTS!" But every year I talk myself out it, saying I needed to get smaller legs first. Just one more year! Then you will be Boot Worthy!

Well this will be my FIFTH Scottish winter and I say to hell with all that postponing. My legs are plenty bootworthy right now. They always have been, darnit. They are sturdy legs, and I'll no doubt need wide fit ones from Duo or similar to accomodate my calves. But they're strong and healthy, they've faithfully lugged me around through thick and less thick and I'm over this Waiting For A Skinny Day mentality. I'll save my pennies and hopefully I'll be clomping around town by Christmas. Woohoo!

Tenderised

Two stupid minor injuries in the name of health and wellbeing this week. Firstly, I bit into an apple yesterday. Since spatial reasoning has never been my forte the bite was much wider than it needed to be. Instead of sinking into the fruit, that really pointy tooth sank straight into the side of my tongue. Now I've got a centimetre-wide flappy bit of broken tongue, all swollen and painful.

And then tonight we went to the forest for some off-road cycling action and I forgot to wear my padded shorts underneath my trousers. D'oh! After 90 minutes of pelting over rocks and puddles and big fat tree roots, I am feeling rather tender in the lady parts.

The first half hour of these bike rides always seems to suck. My legs just don't work properly and it's too haaard and I just want to go home because I just don't think I can doooo this today. But when it's done and I'm wiping mud off my bike with a handful of grass before loading it back into the car, that's all completely forgotten.

"Sorry I was such a whingy git earlier," I said to Gareth after a recent ride, "It always feels like I'm not going to make it."

"That's alright," he smiled, "I don't listen to you anyway!"

. . .

In other exciting news, I had another culinary first last weekend - a fresh fig!

Somehow figs had passed me by until now. Once as a child I waited in the car feeling completely mortified as a certain member of my family climbed over a fence of a former WWII prison camp site with a plastic bucket, then raided the fig trees in order to feed their homemade fig jam habit. The jam was always a weird browny greeny colour and freaked me out. The fruit itself looked a bit creepy too.

So when my friend served them up for dessert the other day I wrinkled up my nose. Well I wrinkled it up inside my mind, because it would have been rude to wrinkle it for real! But these figs had briefly been in the oven alongside some fresh peaches so they were warm and syrupy. Then they were dolloped with vanilla creme fraiche. PHWOAR! It was difficult not to moan with all that juicy soft but crunchy goodness... I waited nearly 30 years for this? All week long I've been thinking fig fig fig, I gotta get me some more figs.

That is one of the greatest pleasures in life, I reckon. The moment of surprise when you taste something amazing that you've never tasted before. And knowing there's still a million other untasted things out there all shiny and new. Noice.

Bon weekend, lovelies!

On The Road

I have a relatively sane relationship with food these days. I love it dearly and passionately and still dream of diving naked into a vat of Nutella - but these days it's not quite as dominant in my thoughts. At the very least not to the detriment of basic things like work, sleep, bathing, etc etc.

Every now and then though, I get that possessed feeling. And more often that not it happens when I'm out of town. Put me on an open road and suddenly there's nothing in my brain but thoughts of FOOD FOOD FOOD.

Perhaps this stems from the epic voyages of my Australian childhood when my parents rationed one measly Lifesaver per 250 kilometres, but as soon as I'm in a moving vehicle for anything longer than half an hour I think... Ooh I'm kind of peckish. Are we there yet? I start calculating how far it is to the nearest town or motorway services as a mild panic flutters in my stomach... What if I get really hungry? What if I STARVE?

Last month we were heading way up the A9 for a wedding in a tiny village. Despite a generous lunch before we left and an arsenal of fruit and nuts in my handbag my thoughts quickly wandered to chocolate. It's a pretty boring road, the A9; and as always we were stuck behind a parade of trucks and tourist buses. We inched past magnificent mountains but I was mesmerised by all the signs that warned ROAD LIABLE TO ICING... Mmmm, icing.

It didn't stop when we got to the Tiny Wee Village either. It really was tiny and wee, and we were going to be there for two whole days and two whole nights! So as soon as we checked into the hotel I said to Gareth, "Let's go check out the town", which was codespeak for, "Let's find out where all the food is". I paced down the streets, scanning the smattering of buildings like a robot. Name. Opening Hours. Prices. Menu. I had to have all the information. All the options. You know, so I wouldn't STARVE TO DEATH!

On the morning of the wedding we had a full Scottish breakfast at the hotel that would satisfy most stomachs for three weeks, but already I was plotting... Wedding isn't til 1PM... wonder how long it will go for? What kind of gap will there be between wedding and reception? Is the reception like lunch, or dinner? Should I stuff a sandwich into my handbag? Hmm hmm...

The wedding was lovely despite the relentless rain. I love proper weddings. And then there was a bloody delicious dinner about 4PM... I had the roast beef and my first ever Yorkshire pudding. Ooh yeah baby.

Not long after they cleared the tables ready for the ceilidh - that's Scottish dancing, take yer partner by the hand and all that. And what do you know, I was still thinking about food, especially now that glass of wine had kicked in. I hear these Highland weddings go on all night. And all that dancing. What if I get hungry again? Huh huh huh?

And that was despite the chocolate fountain. As soon as we'd sat down for dinner I'd noticed a mysterious tower-shaped structure in the corner, wrapped in plastic.

"I reckon that's a chocolate fountain under there," I'd said casually to Gareth.

I tried to act natural but he kept catching me staring at it. And so began the whispered running commentary throughout our meal:

Oooh lookit that fountain, Shauna!
Wahey! The dude's taken off the plastic cover!
Ooh, he's switching it on!
Oooh look, he's adding the chocolate chips!
He's getting out his marshmallows now!
And his strawberries!
Are you ready to dip? Are you excited?

Well of course I was bloody excited! It was molten, flowing chocolate, three feet from my nose! But then again, I thought, what if it wasn't really nice chocolate? Even in the depths of ridiculous possession I still had my lofty standards. Besides, I reckon I could do two trips to the fountain before I'd get an attack of self-consciousness. It could be a long evening. What to do?

Meanwhile the backs of my heels had become all blistered from impractical shoes, so I seized that excuse to wander over to the wee shop before it closed to get some Band-Aids. And a Freddo Frog. It was still chucking down with rain but I risked breaking my neck and/or frizzing my hair to hobble across the street. Stomach comes first!

So we danced and drank and chatted for hours and had a lovely time. I felt like such a goose carrying round my emergency chocolate ration, especially when they wheeled out the tea and sandwiches and wedding cake for supper. But somehow, in the midst of that foody mood... it was so comforting and reassuring to know wee Freddo was there, nestled beside my tissues and lipgloss, just in case I needed him.

Poetry In Motion

So I'm on the train to the Big Smoke and I bought George the Laptop with me, determined to use this enforced period of seating and free wifi to catch up on all my emails, especially the ones from April, so people don't go on thinking I am a Snobby McSnobbypants; and update my darn blogs so people don't get bored and never come back. But my seat is facing BACKWARDS and as the scenery whizzes past my window I feel like I am going to spew. Urrgh. I fear those scrambled eggs I ate for lunch are going to come back and haunt me. Arrrrghhhh!

A wee while later... Okay I just posted another entry but it stank so I took it down. Apologies to the Notify List and RSS folk! More soon.

How DietGirl Became Not-On-A-Diet-Girl

You may have noticed that I've not really updated the weight stats on my sidebar in a long long time. I keep meaning to explain why, but all I had to show you is fifteen abandoned drafts. The truth is, everything has changed this year; my attitude to this diet stuff. I needed to pull back from the scales and think long and hard about things. There's been so many incidents that screamed to me that after six and a bit years, I had to change my approach to my health and weight.

It wasn't until the lovely Sarah invited me to write a guest post for Elastic Waist that I actually sat down and put the massive changes in my head down on paper. The post is up today. Thanks all you lovely EW folks for having me over.

Update: I've archived the full post below for posterity.

Loose Skin: DG by Request

So enquiring minds want to know about Loose Skin. What does one look like naked after losing half their body weight? Does my stomach hang down to my knees? Do I resemble a human shar-pei? Will you resemble a human shar-pei if you lose weight?

I completely understand why this issue causes so much worry. At the end of 2000 when I was trying to work up the nerve to Do Something, part of me was reluctant to even start for fear I'd end up looking like my furry friend on the left there.

Of course now I can only answer from my own experience, and I am happy to report I don't look like a roly-poly-dog.

The People That You Meet

Ooh ooh ooh I can't believe I neglected to mention my latest bout of Blognobbing. You know, like hobnobbing, except since it's famous bloggers it's blognobbing!

A couple of weeks ago I met Australia's favourite globetrotting poledancing triathlete Skinny Latte Phil in sunny Edinburgh. She was up here checking out the Fringe Festival and has just posted a lovely entry about her adventures.

It was great meeting her in person. Sometimes you read a blog and wonder if the blogger will be like the blog in real life. Then POW! You meet them, and it's just like the blog has grown a voice and arms and rather sexy legs. It's all real, baby!

Phil seemed to like Edinburgh, which really warmed the cockles of my psuedo-Scottish heart, because I demand that everyone loves the city as much as I do. She'd taken in a lot of theatre and shopping and then we took in a helluva lot of vodka. So much so when I ran into some good pals afterwards at Guy Pratt's hilarious show, I couldn't remember one of their names. Eek!

I think because so many Antipodeans make the trek to the UK that people don't always realise just how difficult it is to find your feet. And find shelter, employment and sanity. But Phil has hit her stride in London now. She's full of plans and dreams and enthusiasm. Go you good thing!

Dr G took a pic of us which I uncermoniously nicked off her blog. Pink cheeks ahoy!

Tomorrow I am meeting K and Rosemary. 2007 has been a year of top quality blognobbing, what with all the lovely Americans, the Greek Goddess Argy, etc etc. But I still pine to meet all the Aussies. PINE, I tell you! Someday, someday. Sniffle.

In other news, I did a wee interview with Weight Loss Tips today. Check it out!

Three Times A Lady

Thanks everyone who kindly left Entry Requests in my last post. I initially wrote that line as a joke but later thought I quite like the idea of you guys bossing me about. And I'd like to be helpful. Maybe it could be a weekly feature? I remember when I was starting out I had so many burning questions and just wanted some honest answers and encouragement, dammit. So leave a comment or send an email if there's anything on your mind - food, exercise, what's with the Freddo obsession, whatever :) And of course I shall link back to the Question Asker's blog, if they have one.

I'll start with the Loose Skin Conundrum as it's such a FAQ. I've touched on it before but I'm getting together some more thoughts and information.

. . .

It's now September and if my shaky maths serves me correctly this means TWO THIRDS of 2007 is gone! But I've knocked off a New Years Resolution ahead of schedule - Try three new sporty activities. First we had kickboxing in January and canoeing in April and now finally... kayaking!

Yesterday I did a wee taster lesson and it was pretty cool. The most traumatic part of the whole experience was donning the wetsuit, surely the least flattering garment on earth. And even more so when you put it on inside out by mistake, and the inside of the suit is bright yellow with black sleeves, so you look like a bloated neoprene bumble bee. I'm just glad my friend pointed this out before we left the change rooms.

I quite enjoyed paddling around the loch in my sexy yellow boat, even when I kept running into the banks and/or spinning round in circles. I like how I don't feel panicky anymore doing sporty things, just willing to have a go and not feeling like my self-esteem is in danger of being demolished at any moment.

There was one Fat Girl Freakout though; albeit a quiet one. There were five of us in the class - me, Gareth, two of our friends Dave and Lynne and their 8-year-old son Alexander. We had to paddle close together so our kayaks were in a row, then hold on to each others boats so we formed a sort of kayak raft. Then we had to take turns jumping out and walking across the raft then back again. One by one they wobbled over, laughing and struggling to keep their balance.

As I watched them clamber over me I couldn't help crunching numbers. Dave and Lynne are a lot shorter than me and a good 20-30 kilos lighter. Alexander would be no more that 20 kilos himself, and that svelte bastard Gareth is about 5 kilos lighter than me too. So I when it was my turn I froze in my kayak thinking stubbornly, "No bloody way."

It's been so long since I've thought about my weight. As in, you know, my heaviness. I haven't felt conscious of being at all weighty. I wasn't scared of falling or drowning or whatnot, but I did feel my Impending Humiliation Detector going off.

Gareth said, "C'mon Marsho!" and the instructor said, "You've come all the way from New Zealand and you're not going to have a go?" and I just said quietly, "Not today thanks."

Blah. Sometimes you feel like you've come so far then sometimes you feel the opposite, and those moments can happen ridiculously close together.

After the kayaking lesson we got the canoe out again for some capsizing practice! Dave, Gareth and I are going to try some bigger water soon and it's really very highly unlikely we'd ever get chucked out, but Dave likes to err on the side of caution. So the three of us spent about an hour throwing each other overboard and snorting up vile loch water and flipping the boat over and trying to haul ourselves back in. It was such a hoot, especially when I accidentally kicked Gareth underwater and he yelped in shock and said, "I thought it was f*cking Jaws!"

I feel like I've found real joy with exercise this year. Real joy in just living in this body, in general. I'm spending far less time in the gym but I'm so much fitter. Yesterday I felt such strength in my arms and shoulders as I pulled myself back into the canoe from deep water. I also felt goofy and messy and drenched and scared but uninhibited. Today my shins are covered in bruises and it feels like they're the bruises I was too tentative and self-conscious to accumulate when I was a kid.