Hello comrades! I’m back from Amsterdam. Things didn’t turn out so well Radiohead-wise, but it’s a lovely town and we had a great time and I didn’t eat too badly. Ha!
My problem has been more about the days before and the days after. All this stupid knee/shoulder pain, and feeling frustrated and translating that into too many pieces of cheese on toast. But I was back on track today. No more wallowing.
. . .
This month is designated 2001 Month for The Book. I’m giving myself a month to write each year, if that makes sense. 2001 is proving to be a real bitch. I’ve got my notes and my outline and I’ve poured over the archives so many times, but I’m still struggling. It’s taken me two weeks to figure out why – I just don’t recognise myself.
I always downplay how much this Lard Busting Journey has changed me. I fear sounding like an egotistical wanker, and I don’t want people thinking I’ve done anything particularly special or difficult. People ask me How I Did It and I’ll say I just ate right and exercised. For five years.
But reading back, I was a completely different person in 2001 and it’s hard to relate to her. Who was this chick, hiding from the world, afraid to go to the pub with friends, exhausted by a walk around the block? Don’t get me wrong, I empathise with her, I want to hug her and sometimes kick her arse — but it’s so hard to believe that was actually me.
Back in the day I used to wander up and down the aisles at the supermarket in tears, wondering if I’d ever climb out of my black hole. Then I’d stop by the freezer and pick up a 4-litre tub of Home Brand Vanilla Ice Cream. No expense spared! I’d eat the whole lot it in front of the telly over the next few days, just plain or sometimes drizzled with passionfruit cordial. Cordial makes a great sauce on the cheap, don’t you know.
And then last week in the depths of my injury-related self-pity, I was cruising the freezer aisle again. I debated for ages over whether or not to buy a Marks & Spencer Exotic Fruit Split, a single serve ice cream with just 100 calories. Tastes like passionfruit!
So I still like my comfort food in the same flavours. Not everything has changed. But at least the portion sizes are different!
Y’know, I’m always bitching about how I’m taking so long to lose this blubber, but if it had happened any quicker my head would probably just explode from the enormity of it all.