A woman sat next to me on the bus yesterday afternoon. It was funny coz only that morning I’d been looking down at the seat beside me and marvelling at how I fit onto my half of the seat and no longer spilled over into the other side. But by the afternoon I was thinking differently. It was a quiet time on the bus so everyone had a seat to themselves. I watched the woman walk up the aisle and my Fat Girl mind assumed she’d never sit next to me coz of my lardy ass. She’d definitely sit next to some weedy person. But she sat herself down right beside me! Of all the seats on all the buses in Scotland, she chose mine…
I was quite chuffed about that and smiled to myself. Until the next stop when someone got off, leaving a completely vacant seat. She got up and moved to it. Hmmph. Had I forgotten my deoderant?
So I have broken my Posting Twice A Week vow, but I had to spend some quality time with The Boy after he returned from Canada. All my PMS-fuelled paranoia was proved unfounded, he didn’t have any sudden revelations while away and change his mind about me, he had missed me just as much. The thing that made me so happy was how happy and content I was while he was away. Sure there were the first few days of angst and moping, but after that I really enjoyed the time apart, wandering around the city on my own, doing some extra classes at the gym. I missed him like mad, but I was content knowing he was enjoying his snowboarding, having a well-deserved break. I just realised for the first time what a mature thing we have goin’ on. We’re so comfortable and secure with each other that he doesn’t mind me going out on the town with the blokes at work and I’m happy for him to go travelling. I guess every guy I’ve known before has been a clingy "where have you been!?" type and I am just loving this trust and easygoing thing I’ve got now. I never knew it could be like this. Woohoo!
. . .
I’ve been obsessing about my thighs. I think I’ve shedded about ten years of fat now, which means my body is the approximate size it was when I was sixteen. Now I feel like I am sixteen again whenever I look in the mirror, fretting over the exact same bits I fretted about back then. So much lard has come off my chest, waist and hips that I’d forgotten that I’ve always had big thighs. The body goes out at the boobs, in at the waist, out at the hips, then out even further at the top of my thighs. What the bloody hell do you call that? These are curves that could quite easily be used to prop up a few screaming toddlers and shopping bags. When I’m at my dance class and shimmying at the mirror, all I can see is thigh.
I was shrieking to my sister, "Why do they stick out like that!?! How am I going to get rid of them?" She told me they were meant to be like that. I looked around the studio. People had thighs of all persuasions, but of course in my head mine were the hugest and most… flared out.
I’m going to be one of those people writing into fitness magazines, "How can I reduce the size of my thighs?" and they shall write back in patronising tones, "Dear Desperate of Scotland, there is no such thing as spot reducing… blah blah blah, eat less, accept your thunderous thighs…"
Now I am all paranoid and wondering if there’s anything that can be done. Is stacking all that weight on the bar for my squats and lunges making them bigger? Should I take up running? Should I wrap my legs in hot mud and cling film? Lipo?
Once an obsessive, always an obsessive. No matter how happy you can get with your body, you can always find something to pick on!