So its Tuesday which to me means Fat Club day. After a lifetime of loving food and never being able to get the balance right or understand 'moderation' I finally joined a Slimming Club last March and have lost 2 stone.
I hated the thought of group 'therapy' or restricting my life, and loathed the idea of a life of denial.
I was wrong.
I'm eating more than ever, nicer food, healthier food and have become very dependant on thelovely people in group who never judge, or tut, or see me as a failure (I do enough of that for myself).
So today I gained 3lbs. ARGH. The difference now compared to the past is that I'm not depressed about it, I'm not hateful to my reflection, I just pick myself up, dust myself down and get back on the horse...
One thing I've learned is that if you're a food lover, if you have a tendancy to eat the wrong things, or eat too much of the right things, there's no 'cure'. This is about managment for life. Its not as simple as 'eat less, do more' yet it is. Its about balance, good choices, support and friendship. Its about liking oneself, respecting your reflection, learning to love who you are without being arrogant.
So yeh, Fat Club rocks. I'm losing weight, slowly, healthily and thoroughly enjoying myself. Its also very cheap therapy because the emphasis is also on image therapy, knowing yourself, dealing with issues and not being judged.
So I had a gain. I earned every lb. I will lose that gain for next week with no denial or shame.
That is a GOOD THING.
Tuesday, 24 January 2012
Monday, 23 January 2012
Landlocked
I'm taking abreak from Woosley Gumpt (the book) today as I'm over thinking things.
I'm feeling landlocked. I grew up in Devon, my spiritual home and now live in another lovely part of the world that would be perfect if it weren't for the lack of the sea. I am craving a wet and windy walk along the shore watching the rolling waves, feeling the Atlantic's strength, making me feel both small and inferiour yet so so alive. I miss 'my' ocean. My parents moved back down to the West Country a few years ago, I think I resented them at the time, after all it was they who enforced my own relocation northward away from the spray. Now I envy them and their decision.
I need to be grown up about things really. It would be impossible to relocate right now, my boys are happy and settled, my husbands work centres around this (beautiful) area, my father-in-law needs us. I have good friends here, and pleasant cottage, there are many trees.... but still, I still ache for my ocean.
It inspires me.
I'm going to hold onto this thought, these feelings and memories and try to work them into my landlocked life. Why do I feel I can do things when in Devon that seem impossible here? Daft really, but any one who's heart has been stolen by the coast and its people will probably understand.
Only 4 months until I'm back in my own slice of Heaven, at which point, true to form, I'll decide I miss my trees and mountains and ache to come home. My long term mission is to combine both, and make my/our home in Devon again. Today's mission is to daydream about my home and take comfort from my beautiful memories, because really, I'm not far from home at all, its in my heart. I want to share it with my family everyday, especially on a cold November day where the sky everywhere else would dampen the spirits but where, in Devon, its just another beautiful day. *sigh*
I'm feeling landlocked. I grew up in Devon, my spiritual home and now live in another lovely part of the world that would be perfect if it weren't for the lack of the sea. I am craving a wet and windy walk along the shore watching the rolling waves, feeling the Atlantic's strength, making me feel both small and inferiour yet so so alive. I miss 'my' ocean. My parents moved back down to the West Country a few years ago, I think I resented them at the time, after all it was they who enforced my own relocation northward away from the spray. Now I envy them and their decision.
I need to be grown up about things really. It would be impossible to relocate right now, my boys are happy and settled, my husbands work centres around this (beautiful) area, my father-in-law needs us. I have good friends here, and pleasant cottage, there are many trees.... but still, I still ache for my ocean.
It inspires me.
I'm going to hold onto this thought, these feelings and memories and try to work them into my landlocked life. Why do I feel I can do things when in Devon that seem impossible here? Daft really, but any one who's heart has been stolen by the coast and its people will probably understand.
Only 4 months until I'm back in my own slice of Heaven, at which point, true to form, I'll decide I miss my trees and mountains and ache to come home. My long term mission is to combine both, and make my/our home in Devon again. Today's mission is to daydream about my home and take comfort from my beautiful memories, because really, I'm not far from home at all, its in my heart. I want to share it with my family everyday, especially on a cold November day where the sky everywhere else would dampen the spirits but where, in Devon, its just another beautiful day. *sigh*
Wednesday, 18 January 2012
A good thing...
Revisiting Woosley Gumpt has been a good thing, I read it to my children last night. My youngest, who's the target age, fell asleep. My eldest loved it but found the characters a little 'babyish'. Their reactions weren't wrong. The book needs stripping back, simplfying, less twaddle.
So that is what I'm in the process of doing. I'm am the sort who uses 500 words when 5 well chosen ones will do, this is going to be tough.
As it is a book that is supposed to be read aloud, I am reading it aloud.
This is all good. Exciting for me actually because once editted, I think its a tale with legs. I enjoyed reading it.
This isn't an ego trip, I'm still rather embarassed about it all, but I have surprised myself in my faith in something that I'd written off long ago and only kept because well, its part of my history and I'm a hoarder. Today I am glad I kept it.
So that is what I'm in the process of doing. I'm am the sort who uses 500 words when 5 well chosen ones will do, this is going to be tough.
As it is a book that is supposed to be read aloud, I am reading it aloud.
This is all good. Exciting for me actually because once editted, I think its a tale with legs. I enjoyed reading it.
This isn't an ego trip, I'm still rather embarassed about it all, but I have surprised myself in my faith in something that I'd written off long ago and only kept because well, its part of my history and I'm a hoarder. Today I am glad I kept it.
Thursday, 12 January 2012
The Second Step
So what's my hook? What is this blog about?
I am not going to think too hard about that, I'd get bored in a week if I only wrote on one subject, I'll never know how I got through 3 years of a degree but I do know I was 'spent' half way through the first term. Sheer determination to finish the damn job got me through. It paid off.
I guess as I'm a woman, and a mum, and a knitter and a recovering fat person, this blog will touch on random musings about being a woman, a mum, a knitter and a recovering fatty. I hope its more than that, though when I think what else it could be I draw a blank. Just like I do when asked what I want for Christmas, I spend all my spare time day dreaming and creating wishlists, only for the lights to go off when it matters.
Ah, there you go, I'm also a daydreamer. That should plump the content out a little.
Its January and extremely mild, miserably so. The kind of weather the UK is mocked for. Not one thing or the other, grey, drizzly, uninspiring (though there was an 'Armageddon' type sunset last night - the end of the world will be pretty I think) and it seems everyone has a cold. I have a cold. I've had it for 5 weeks now and was beginning to think something was seriously amiss until I spoke to other people who reckon this one lasts a good few weeks. Bah.
So I'm feeling crappy. Its January, the hangover month after a wonderful magical Christmas. I'm on a mission to de-clutter my house, detox my body, purge my mind of dust. I need a better hoover, plus as I'm feeling rubbish, its far easier to sit here and talk about it than actually do something about it.
Which is why I'm being strict. One hour a day on bloggery, no more. No planning of what I will say, no drafts. This is a kind of automatic writing, lets just see what happens.
A good thing has happened though, I burrowed through a box of 'stuff to keep' and found Woosley Gumpt, the original children's story. Its alright. It needs serious reworking, but I enjoyed reading it. I've added it to my 'to do' list. To be done in my downtime from duty. That is a good thing. I also found an old dairy that contained another of my wishlists. Less said about that the better, its a little depressing. I will return to that once I've decluttered everything else and try and make peace with the 14 year old child who wrote it.
I am not going to think too hard about that, I'd get bored in a week if I only wrote on one subject, I'll never know how I got through 3 years of a degree but I do know I was 'spent' half way through the first term. Sheer determination to finish the damn job got me through. It paid off.
I guess as I'm a woman, and a mum, and a knitter and a recovering fat person, this blog will touch on random musings about being a woman, a mum, a knitter and a recovering fatty. I hope its more than that, though when I think what else it could be I draw a blank. Just like I do when asked what I want for Christmas, I spend all my spare time day dreaming and creating wishlists, only for the lights to go off when it matters.
Ah, there you go, I'm also a daydreamer. That should plump the content out a little.
Its January and extremely mild, miserably so. The kind of weather the UK is mocked for. Not one thing or the other, grey, drizzly, uninspiring (though there was an 'Armageddon' type sunset last night - the end of the world will be pretty I think) and it seems everyone has a cold. I have a cold. I've had it for 5 weeks now and was beginning to think something was seriously amiss until I spoke to other people who reckon this one lasts a good few weeks. Bah.
So I'm feeling crappy. Its January, the hangover month after a wonderful magical Christmas. I'm on a mission to de-clutter my house, detox my body, purge my mind of dust. I need a better hoover, plus as I'm feeling rubbish, its far easier to sit here and talk about it than actually do something about it.
Which is why I'm being strict. One hour a day on bloggery, no more. No planning of what I will say, no drafts. This is a kind of automatic writing, lets just see what happens.
A good thing has happened though, I burrowed through a box of 'stuff to keep' and found Woosley Gumpt, the original children's story. Its alright. It needs serious reworking, but I enjoyed reading it. I've added it to my 'to do' list. To be done in my downtime from duty. That is a good thing. I also found an old dairy that contained another of my wishlists. Less said about that the better, its a little depressing. I will return to that once I've decluttered everything else and try and make peace with the 14 year old child who wrote it.
Wednesday, 11 January 2012
Newbie fears...
Oooh get me, a blog no less. I've often wondered "what is this thing of which you speak?" and moved on to something else without second thought. So now I'm here, taking baby steps into the world of the blog, and feeling slight trepidation. I shall start small and slow.
What do I want this blog to be? Mostly an outlet, sometimes a vent, somewhere to write general musings, part dairy part commentary and always unplanned... I can't think of another way to do it.
I feel like I'm shouting into the void. Maybe that's a good thing, I will learn as I go.
The title, Woosley Gumpt, is the first thing I could think of, and also the first story I ever wrote, and the last I ever completed. It was a very low standard, aimed purely at the children I babysat for when I was 19. I'm not sure if it has any future, as its so far in the past, but I enjoyed writing it and there's the link. I hope I enjoy writing this. It would be lovely if people enjoyed reading it, but really, its not about that, this is therapy! Woosley Gumpt is also a nonsense, so seemed very fitting.
What do I want this blog to be? Mostly an outlet, sometimes a vent, somewhere to write general musings, part dairy part commentary and always unplanned... I can't think of another way to do it.
I feel like I'm shouting into the void. Maybe that's a good thing, I will learn as I go.
The title, Woosley Gumpt, is the first thing I could think of, and also the first story I ever wrote, and the last I ever completed. It was a very low standard, aimed purely at the children I babysat for when I was 19. I'm not sure if it has any future, as its so far in the past, but I enjoyed writing it and there's the link. I hope I enjoy writing this. It would be lovely if people enjoyed reading it, but really, its not about that, this is therapy! Woosley Gumpt is also a nonsense, so seemed very fitting.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)