The destruction

I have noticed a strange phenomenon lately. Those who never in a million years would have said how fat and unhealthy I was, seem to be completely happy to tell me how gaunt and ill I look.  There is this a very foreign new body I now possess and for me is taking a long time getting used to.

Yet the hidden insults and snide comments about my new body seem to roll off the tongues of those who should know better.  Is it my lack of fatness that makes me a politically correct target?   God forbid you tell me whether  am eating to many pies or that I need a special chair at dinner to make sure I don’t topple over during supper.  MY BMI is just 24, making me just about normal.  I am no near an unhealthy weight.  There are highs the lows the in-betweens.  I am still who I am.  I am sensitive and the insults and believe me they cut just as deep. The difference is it is open season.  Once a dirty little secret , only the cruelist of the cruel would dare to call me call me the old fat names I became so used to.

To be honest todays blog was supposed to be about running and exquisite pain I feel in my thighs that follow and how much it feels like flying.

SO, here I am I can fly, but I can also hurt. So, today I will sit licking my winding wondering how this catch 22 is created…But, will I exercise today  FUCK YA

My nemesis

Well following a very large series of tantrums I have agreed to bring my four year old twins to McDonalds.  Yes, in case you were wondering I see the irony in allowing them to eat the crap I try so hard to avoid.  Nevertheless here I am sitting in a booth distracting myself with the free wifi and trying to pretend I do not wish to jump over the counter and shove my face in the beautiful mountain of golden, glistening fries that mocks me even from the other side of the shop.  

I have come to realise that no matter how my body changes food will still hold a certain special place for me.  These days barring the occasional binge, food has taken on a more pornographic quality.  The idea of watching Michel Roux Jr (you will learn along the way he is my pin up these days) prepare a beautiful buttery French delicacy is nothing short of the equivalent of an adolescent masturbatory   fantasy but without the sexual overtone.  It is an ultimate appreciation for the beauty and delicate respectful handling of the food.  The wondering of what it tastes like.   Admittedly, I have been trying to get a reservation to La Gavroche  for a year now to no avail.  Probably the universe telling me it would be to much for my psyche to handle.  In the presence of said Chef  I would likely pass out possibly wetting myself in the process, ending the beautiful gastronomic fantasy for good…  This may go under the category of things that should stay an illusion.

On the fat front, I am still attending a slimming group.  I know not everyone is “group” person.  But, I think it very therapeutic.  This is why I feel the need to step it up a bit.  Well actually 12 step it up a bit.  I have found my local overeaters anonymous  chapter and feel like maybe that is my next step.  Having lost more than half my body weight and conquering some very difficult physical hurdles, I do believe the mental ones are definitely due for a check up.  Food still controls me and “I” want to control me.  I don’t want to be foods bitch.  I think this addiction or whatever you wish to call it has to much of me.  It’s like a conjoined twin that shares my blood supply and we can’t live without each other.  


What a week…

I am sorry for the gap in blogs.  There is so much of my old life in conflict with my new life.  It is a very difficult juggling act.  I am not working at the moment which some how has made me more busy then ever.  The precious five or ten minutes to myself that I so long for seems forever out of reach.

I have been learning more each day about what is happening in my head with all the changes.  I had hoped to attend a reunion of sorts in Birmingham with a group of fabulous chicks who also had their surgery with Cosmetic Bliss.  It didn’t happen in the end for many reasons.  Not the least of which are the input of those in my life that don’t understand what this all means and how it effects my head.  They just tend to make things harder.  I need a quiet life and there are times that I know decision needs to be made that will keep things a bit more “Zen” in order to keep me on track.  I am broken and fragile.  This was the revelation of the week.  I need order and I need help.  I am an addict!  Probably doomed from the start to be this person I have become.  The difference now is I am thin.  But, the line between keeping myself under control food is beyond hard sometimes.  I am beginning to think it is time to go deeper.  As much as I feel my slimming club keeps me on an even keel in many ways.  I have realised that I need to delve deeper.  I need the acknowledgement that there  is something within me that is broken.  More importantly I need to be with those who “get it”….  I am not crazy, but I am not well either.

I know I have gone a bit off topic with all this.  The crazy ramblings of a food junky.  But, I am hitting a wall and I don’t know how to get past it.  This isn’t my usual weight wall.  In fact my weight is probably more stable then it ever has been.  But, this is a lonely place.  With each pound that comes off I find myself thinking, maybe over thinking actually.  I wonder if the reason I need to run with music is that I am not happy to be alone with my thoughts.  I have so many regrets and feel like I have made so many mistakes.  This reinvention lark is harder then it looks.

I have once again found myself without a job.  But, again in my quest for peace and that ever elusive feeling of zen, I am trying to go the “everything happens for a reason road.  Maybe it does and the this weeks lesson will to be to figure out the purpose.