After spending the majority of this year faffing around with weddings, the fun is officially over. Now it’s onto married life. Sorting out the spare room, mortgages, fixing cars, deciding whether or not we should buy a tumble dryer. Borrrrrrrring!
The other night I dreamed my mother told me that all the guests had bitched about me at our Aussie wedding. About how I claimed to be this dazzling weight loss success story, swanning around in books and fancy magazines, yet I didn’t look any different from when I left Australia. They’d all expected me to have been far smaller. In fact, it was obvious to everyone that I still needed to lose an arseload of weight. Basically I was a fraud!
I woke up so upset and angry that I almost called my mother to see if it was true. Then I remembered it was just a dream, fuelled by paranoia and guilt, since Id accumulated some extra pudge in Australia. I was so overjoyed on the first day of the trip when I bought three pairs of pants (that’s trousers to you Brits) in a size 14 and a bunch of tops in Medium. Woohoo! I nearly wept with glee, I never thought I’d ever see a 14 on the label. But after three and a bit weeks of rolling around in the succuclent Australian food baskets, the pants got extremely snug.
But I have no regrets. Ohhh I loved every mouthful. I had made a pact with myself only to eat the things I really wanted – the stuff I’d truly missed while living in the UK. The only problem it turned out I’d truly missed a helluva lot of stuff. Kingston biscuits, Cherry Ripes, Cadbury’s Top Deck, Vietnamese food, Baker’s Delight, sausage rolls, fresh orange juice, mangoes, cheese, Jatz crackers, Smith’s chips, $20 giant sushi platters, papaya salad, sweet potato chips, cheap avocados, Turkish banquets, fish and chips on the beach, al fresco cooked breakfasts, juice bars, Milo, steak sandwiches, pineapples from a roadside stall, luscious non-greasy pizza, fresh and lean burgers, passionfruit cheesecake, roast pumpkin, astoundingly good hot chocolate, multigrain English muffins, fruit smoothies, chocolate wedding cake, my grandmother’s caramel slice…
Oh man. I could go on, but I won’t. I’m all emotional just thinking about it. Sniff. It’s not the delicious meals themselves so much as the gobsmacking freshness of it all. And eating outdoors with the sun on my skin. And eating with much-missed family and friends. And eating because it so bloody cheap! Every time we go for a meal in Scotland I end up cranky because we have paid so much for what often is a crushing disappointment, £25 for a pathetic sliver of meat in a piddly sauce that tastes like it came from a jar.
Okay I am making it sound worse than it is, but my memory is currently tainted by oodles of happy Australian memories. I do love Scotland, really I do. I’m sure I’ll get over this soon!
As bloated as the menu sounds above, I am reasonably happy with how I ate. I was content to refresh my memory with just one sausage roll, one piece of wedding cake, one Cheesymite scroll from Baker’s Delight – as opposed to multiples. Except for my grandmother’s caramel slice. I ate about six bits of that. Oooh it’s so tasty! And she cuts it into tiny wee inch squares so you kid yourself you haven’t eaten much. Evil old dame.
But like I said, back to reality. I was back at the gym within two hours of getting off the plane. Have you ever lifted weights after flying for 28 hours? I almost fell asleep in the squat track, which could have lead to some permanent damage. I also kept my weights as heavy as my last class – which was four weeks ago. Oww oww oww. I was crippled for the rest of the week, so it’s only tonight I’ll be properly back into the cardio. I have gained just under three kilos so I’ve got some serious work to do in order to de-snug those Size 14 Pants O’ Joy.
I’ll write more about the trip soon, and I promise to scan that Cosmo story!