Sunday, 24 January 2016

Fat Chance

My, what a bonnie child I am!  At the age of 41 I am still surely making my Mother proud by following the above average line for my weight gain.  I just know when I go to visit her next that she will proudly take me out to visit all her friends, parade me around, and be the envy of all.  Surely they will see what a great Mother she is by observing my impressive gains!

Recently whilst I was rummaging around for undies and preparing to dress my extremely impressive body, I had a breath-taking and slightly comical experience.  As I grabbed the undies and shook them out, they unfurled like a ship’s sail, and I stood there in a shocked ‘Shallow Hal’ moment.  Though incredibly familiar, quite shabby actually, I was caught off guard by their stretched and saggy size.  Were these truly mine?  I knew they were; but I felt a mixture of horror and humour at just how big they looked.  It was like I was seeing them for the first time and I didn’t like what I saw.

While I tucked my tummy snugly into the shabby yet accommodating cotton under clothing, my mind traveled down delightful avenues.  What if being 'bonnie' carried on past the baby stage?  At what age did being chubby switch from being a badge of good health that people delighted in, to something to be ashamed about?  When did Mum’s friends go from saying things like ‘look at her little chubby hands she’s just lovely’ to ‘have you seen her daughter, she’s quite big...’, followed by raised eyebrows and a lingering look of disappointment.

I kept travelling down the path and imagined that my weight was still of great pride to my Mother, and how impressed her friends would be.  Mum would meet me at the airport and throw herself at me in delight.  She’d kiss both of my chubby rosy cheeks and exclaim happily ‘look at you, you’ve gained weight, you’re such a clever wee thing, you always were a good eater’.  I’d beam my cute smile at her with my cheeks so chubby they look like they’ll burst.  Mum will look around her proudly, observing the other Mum’s and Dad’s that wish they could have such a 'bonnie' daughter.

We’d go and meet Mum’s friends and their kids from our playgroup days.  I’d be the delight of the meet-up.  ‘Look at Pam’s daughter, isn’t she chubby, just glowing with good health, gosh Pam is such a good Mother, she must be so proud’.  The Mum’s with the thin kids would feel ashamed of themselves for their unhealthy, emaciated children, and encourage them to eat some more afternoon tea which they are just picking at.  They’d be trying not to appear jealous as they watch me tucking in ravenously out of the corner of their eyes.  Inside they’re boiling with jealousy and thinking what a bitch Mum is for rubbing their faces in her success.

As the meet up gets more intimate and friendly and everyone finds my chubby, cheek splitting smile utterly adorable, the thin kid’s parents try and talk up their kids stunning achievements and amazing personalities.  No-one’s listening because they’re all transfixed on my Mum, who’s attentively wiping food from my double chin while gazing adoringly at me. They are all waiting for the moment when they can squeeze my thigh rolls and watch me giggle with delight.  Mum will tell them I always was a good eater, never fussy and I just eat anything she puts in front of me.  The thin kids Mums will all look at each other and roll their eyes spitefully because deep down they know- they’ve failed to raise a healthy, fat, bonnie child...

I'm dressed now and ready to hit the day, self esteem high...

Friday, 1 January 2016

So Goodbye 2015 my Annus Horribilis...

So Goodbye 2015 my Annus Horribilis...

And from the worst year of my life and the pits of despair, I have clawed my way through the black sorrow to gasp a refreshing lungful of fresh New Year air.

And although my soul has been deeply scarred from my experiences, now is the time for rejuvenation, because this journey through hell did not come without lessons and revelations.

I have truly met myself for the first time, the personal me, the me that I think I am inside.  I like me, I’ve nestled in, I’m home.  The other me, that other’s see, seems like a stranger, an evil twin, with good and bad qualities, but still me, I’ll toy with that...

Last year I learnt that I’m a writer, I was always meant to be a writer,  I’ll always be a writer.

I’ve learned that I need solitude and space for creativity, but also people and experiences to build my stories with.

My Family and friends are the most important things in my life and nothing else compares, I’d give anything for them.

My body will reflect my genetics, lifestyle, and age which is as it should be.
My work will not dominate my life ever.  I will only work to the level required to fulfil my passions and earn the small amount of money that is truly needed to survive.

I will minimise my stuff as much as possible, because it is a pointless waste of space, money and time.

I like my garden, the birds, walking with my dogs, biking and big and small adventures.

My body may be aging but my soul is growing more full and colourful every day.

I will be a lifeboat for my friends and family as they have been for me, keeping me afloat.

I’m scared that I might have run out of time to learn all the things that I still want to learn, like French, Japanese, Spanish, Italian, American History, Graphic design, Dressmaking, British History, Greek Mythology and so many more things.  I’ll just keep reading...

This year my goal is to publish a book.

I will watch a movie every week, because stories and art together are good.

I don’t like sci-fi or special effects.

I only want to be friends with honest and genuine people.  I don’t care where you live, or what size you are, or what car you drive.  I just like interesting minds and kindness.

Shallow and materialistic people are boring.

Spending your life chasing money and following rules is a waste of a life.

I like to be fit and healthy, but I will still drink alcohol, eat junk food and sleep in till midday in the weekends, because that’s what makes me happy.

Crying daily is not normal for me and if it starts happening again I’ll make changes sooner.

Other people in the world are suffering a lot, this doesn’t ease my pain but it helps me keep things in perspective.

I’ll always be angry that men that kick balls and climb mountains are hailed as heroes but the huge sacrifices that Mothers make go unnoticed.

I’m really strong, but I almost broke.

There is comfort in the ordinary things like doing the washing and making dinner.

I will tread lightly on the world and hope the world treads lightly on me.

I believe in the energy and power of our minds and souls and that together we can achieve amazing things.

This year will be my annus mirabilis.