Seriously, stop calling me fat

It’s a drizzly day on a London Bank Holiday, and I am tucked up in bed, wondering why it is that I have to drag my butt out of bed on a work day, but on a holiday I am wide awake?  I am spending it messaging a friend who is abroad but happens to be awake at the same time – a rare occurrence, and I am having a wee giggle to myself at the ridiculousness that we are writing.

I have thought long and hard about writing this blog.  I try to keep my blogs light and a bit of fun, just how I like my life to be, and that is one of the reasons I have not written for so long, some quite serious and upsetting things have been going on.  But then this is a subject that is quite raw and close to my heart, so here goes.

Over the past few months, people have called me fat or overweight to my face.  And it really hurts.  Imagine if the thing that you disliked the most about yourself was pointed out to you.  By people that you hardly know.  Actually, I am not sure if that makes it better or worse.  I would be fairly hurt if someone who knew my struggles with this pointed it out too.

My weight has always fluctuated.  When I was a teenager, I was really fit, healthy, still curvy but quite small.  I had a strong and active body.  When I hit uni I put on a bit of weight and was introduced to the fun that is Weight Watchers.  I kept at a healthy weight for most of my 20’s and was still really active.  I gymed five days a week and watched what I ate.

Then, I was very unlucky and developed endometriosis and then the fun really began.  After a couple of operations, I was given a hormone implant, that was apparently the cure.  For a while it was ok, I was still recovering from surgery, not really able to eat or drink too much alcohol.  Then I was working out again and I could kind of keep a healthy weight by flogging myself at the gym on a regular basis, but slowly and surely the weight crept on.  My lifestyle of going out for dinner and drinking with friends, was a key factor, but I reasoned that I would rather be with them, than home on my own with a salad.  And it was not like I was lonely, I was still able to pick up men and even date a few of them.  And not once did they express that they did not like my body, far from it.

Last year, it all went a bit wrong.  I was working out five times a week again, bootcamp was my drug of choice and it was getting fitter, healthier and slimmer.  I had confidence again and was feeling pretty good about myself.  I was able to fit into my old clothes and I was eating healthy as well.  I felt great.  Then I had a comedy injury, slipping on a banana skin, damaging my knee quite badly.  It would be six months before I could work out again.  In that time, the cure stopped working and I spent a considerable amount of time begging my doctor to send me back to hospital. 

And here we are – back to square one.  I am due for more surgery in the next three to four months, am working out like a demon, when I am not working like a madwoman, and trying to eat as healthy as possible.  I know that I have packed on weight, but I am at a bit of a loss what to do about it.  And I have literally worked my ass off in the last month – losing a dress size and feeling much better about myself.  I want to be as healthy as possible for when I do have surgery, as I want to recover as fast as possible.  But its quite hard to work out when you are in pretty much constant pain that sees you spending a lot of time in bed.

So, that brings me to the incidents.  I was lucky enough to head to Romania earlier this year to go skiing with my close friend.  Bless, he was so excited about getting back out on the slopes, but we were both worried about how my knee was going to stand up to a few days skiing.  We headed down to the ski hire place in our resort on the first morning there, and met a lovely old man called George.  He had previously sent a very awful onesie up with my friend for me and I had taken one look at it and said that is not going to fit.  He took one look at me and said, it’s too small.   Now that was not my issue, it was clear that was not going to fit me.  I was fitted for an equally hideous onesie, whilst my friend was given lovely baby blue ski pants.  George fitted me for my skis, and mine were shorter on me, than what my friends were on him.  He asked about this and the answer was, yes but she is fat.  I was standing right there.  I think that George, who was speaking rather good English, saw my face and quickly said, I mean solid.  I thanked him and got out of there quickly before I had a total meltdown.  I decided quickly that now was not the time to lose it.  My friend was really excited and I did not want to ruin his day.  But I was really hurt, and so I messaged my friend in London and we dealt with it.

Later that day, (after I had skied! Yay!) after I had iced a tender knee, we headed out for the town, and decided to drink vodka and redbull on the bus there.  My friend wondered why he was drunker than me, I simply said, that there was less of him than me and he replied, I knew that you were upset about that.  He then proceeded to tell me about how it was a compliment in Eastern block countries and how the man had limited English and that I should not be worried about it.  I brushed it off, as again, there was no point having a meltdown as we were about to meet our ski instructor in town.  But I will admit to choosing cocktails with no cream and wondering how I could get back to exercise with my knee in the state that it was.

The second incident happened just last week.  I was back at the hospital having my pre-op assessment, where they take blood, assess you for MRSA and check out your general health.  The male nurse there remembered me from three years ago and was joking with me about being back there again.  My scales are currently out of batteries, so when I got on the scales, I was pleased to see that I had lost weight from the last time I had weighed myself.  I didn’t congratulate myself for long though, when as I was on my way to have my blood tests, he mentioned that I had put on a lot of weight.  This time it got to me, I was already on edge from finding out that I needed to go through surgery again.  On the edge of tears, I looked at him and said, what do you expect when I have been given a hormone implant, and he just looked unconvinced and said, I suppose so.

Later that night, I was out for a distraction dinner with my friend and told him the story, and was trying to laugh it off.  He told me that he did not find it funny at all and just did not see me that way.  Well that is because he is just lovely.  And some days, that is all I see of myself. 

The reasons that I thought that it was important to share this are – firstly, don’t ever think that when you point out to someone that they need to lose a few, that they are not already aware.  They will rarely look down at their body and gasp in shock in the realisation that they have a curvy figure.  Believe me, they know.  Secondly, fat might keep you warm, but it does not stop words from hurting.  There are 1001 reasons why people have different body sizes, unless you know about that persons struggle, you really have no right to comment on their size.  The reason I have shared a rather large chunk of my very personal struggle is to illustrate that.  I hate talking about my health, it’s a really unhappy story and there are much happier topics to discuss, it does not mean that it is not at the back of my mind constantly.

So next time you think its helpful to point out that someone is fat, don’t.  Back the hell off and leave them alone.  Right, rant over, next blog will be some happy holiday pics or video’s of cats….

Why I Dislike Valentine's Day - and it's not why you think...

It’s Sunday night and I am procrastinating.  I should have cleaned my room and cleared out my closet, however, I have cleared 8% off the Sky box, have read a clothing catalogue and spent a fair amount of time playing Candy Crush.  So now I am indulging my fav distraction, a good old rant over my blog…

Ahhh St Valentine’s Day, 14^th of February.  It’s a day that is fraught with so much emotion.  It makes the single among us feel unloved and excluded and those in a relationship feel loads of pressure to have the perfect day.  Ugh, and somewhere along the line, the love kinda gets lost.

Lets get the whole single issue out of the way and then I can tell you about why Valentine’s Day has, in my opinion become a material day, that no one really enjoys.

Ok so, I am single.  I am single every other day of the year too, and for the most part, it does not bother me.  Sure I would love to be in a relationship with someone who I loved and they loved me back, but that is not my reality right now.  What I really hate about Valentine’s Day at the moment are the articles that come out like this one.  One of my other single friends posted this article with the heading ‘What a patronising bitch’ and I must agree.  This article treats being single as though it’s a disease and these are the steps to acceptance of said disease.  I do realise that there are people out there who are less sane than me, who probably do get really cut up on Valentine’s Day about being alone, but I am not sure that this article is that helpful.  I mean really – try and keep yourself busy.  Sure.  

I don’t know about anyone else but my inbox has been full of emails offering me raunchy lingerie to spice his Valentine’s, cheap hotels to get away too, obviously to display the lingerie in, and places to have an over priced dinner with your significant other.  I just kinda feel like this is a lot of pressure for one day.  Spend a whole chunk of change on an average dinner, probably with a whole bunch of other people, hardly an intimate dinner, and then go home and put on your overpriced lingerie and take it off again… hang on maybe I do want in on this!  In all seriousness, it kinda feels like this whole commercialism is cheapening love a little.  When was the last time that love was only about dinner, lingerie and motels?

I think that love is about a lot more.  I was once in a relationship that lasted some number of years and not once did I hear those three little words.  I am not sure who was the bigger fool in that relationship – me for putting up with it, or him for thinking that he could get away with it.  It’s now become acceptable to say those words more often to people who are not your significant other.  I have friends of both sexes, who routinely tell me that they love me and I say it back.  And I mean it.  But love is more than that.  Love is someone making you a cup of tea, pouring you a glass of wine after a long day, cooking you a dinner that they know that you love.  Love is considering someone else’s wants above your own and love is in all of the small things.  I think that in this culture of mass media, that there is a perception that love is about the grand gestures.  Well it’s not.  Grand gestures are amazing and everything, but that is not going to happen every day, once the gestures are over, there has to be something else to take its place.

I have spent a number of Valentine’s Day’s in a relationship.  A fair number of them were when I had a rather large mortgage.  I preferred not to spend the money on overpriced flowers or nights out, but as it was summer in NZ, a picnic in the park or even the backyard was nice.  It’s also fair to say that the men that I have dated have not been the flower buying types.  Two of them valued money over me, so there was no buying of things that were just going to die.  But those are my bad choices I guess.  I have also spent a number of them in love with completely inappropriate people or people who had no idea how I felt.  I learned a long time ago not to expect these people to magically realise that I was in love with them on this day, and I would fall through the floor if they ever found out.  I am not going to declare my love or extreme like just because it's the day for it.  If I ever did get up the courage to tell someone how I felt, it would not be on Valentine's Day, talk about pressure!   

I still maintain that if you regularly make an effort throughout the year, then you don’t need a day to remind you to love someone, however, if it is the only day that you make an effort, than you should.  I remember one flatmate who regularly bought his girlfriend flowers, just because, took her out for dinner often and really did treat her like a princess, who felt that he should not have to pay a ridiculous amount for the same flowers he bought the week before, so did not celebrate Valentine’s Day.  And I agreed with him, he made an effort all the time.  She did not see it that way.  She wanted a big gesture.  And it caused an argument between them that simmered for a long time.  Interestingly, this same flatmate, who was a hopeless romantic, once described how he thought I should be proposed to.  He was a traditionalist as well, so he felt that my father should be asked permission.  Which is all well and good, however, the reality is that anyone I meet over here is unlikely to have met my father.  Other than over skype I guess.  Apparently, this flatmate felt, that it would be the best idea, for this fictional guy to be ‘busy’ for a week, to travel to NZ, to meet my family and to ask my Dad for my hand.  All the time I would be unaware of what was going on.  Now don’t get me wrong, this sounds amazing, but is this the reality?  This sounds like a Hollywood movie and I really don’t think I am selling myself short, by saying that I don’t expect this.  I just want someone who will hold my hand, who will give me a hug when I am hungover, who will consider me their partner and wants to spend their free time making me laugh.  And I will do the same for them.  I want someone who is amazing company, that I can see myself traveling the world and growing old with…

As Valentine’s Day this year is a Friday, I will be having dinner with friends, the way that I normally would on a Friday.  It was supposed to be another single friend and I, and a lovely couple that we know.  Now he has bailed, for a better offer, apparently non-valentines related, it’s just me and a couple.  Sad but true.  We are going to have dinner, watch a movie and probably drink a fair amount of wine.  It’s going to be a great night and I am really looking forward to it.  Next year, I will be in NZ, celebrating the wedding of some close friends.  With a bit of luck, I will be the celebrant of that wedding.  Now that sounds like a great way to spend Valentines.  Who knows, by then I may be in a relationship, but if I am not, I know that I will be happy.  I will be in my homeland, will be with friends and life will be good.  Don’t let Valentines get you down people.  I will leave you with this quote from my friend Peta (hope that you did not mind that I stole it!).

‘V day is just a painful reminder that you are sadly single and if you're not then you have a stink boyfriend that doesn't buy you anything and you pretend that you're totes ok with it because you don't celebrate V day but really you are not, you are hard out fucked off with him cos the least he could've got you would be some fingerless gloves for the impending winter!’

Date a girl who...

Can’t quite believe it’s been so long since I have blogged.  It’s not through lack of anything to say, it’s that old chestnut, lack of time.  Well thanks to some quite painful endo, I am at home on a Friday night and therefore finally have the time to write.  It kinda sucks that the only time I have to write is when my body physically makes it impossible for me to do much else.  The truth is that I have been aching to write for a long time now.  There is so much to say and so much inspiration.  I am sick of writing boring reports for work, about outcomes and budget tables.  I want to write about passion, life and excitement. 

It’s nearly the end of January, and whilst many people are facing the end of a month without booze or congratulating themselves on completing New Year resolutions, I am beginning to wonder what this year will offer me.  There are a lot of new beginnings for me in the year ahead, and it feels like I am on the cusp of something really exciting, that within a few months, life is going to fall into a new and exciting place.  The one thing that I have been wondering about this year, which I am sure that every single girl does, is, will this year bring me love?

   

Recently, there have been a whole load of articles that I have picked up off Facebook entitled ‘Don’t date a girl who (insert something profound here)’, reads, writes, travels – you get the idea.  These articles or essays describe a life that is sad, dull and seems to be missing the point.  The Stepford wife kind of woman, who have not experienced being lost in a book, been lost in a city or at the grand bazaar in Istanbul, or who have tried to describe their lives, hopes and dreams on a page. 

These articles make me feel special, annoyed and sad all at once.  Because it’s true, the girls that they are describing as the ones who are worthy of dating, are.  But what is sad is that they are often the girls who are over looked.  They might be the ones who spend their lives reading a book in a café, not spending their money on clothes or shoes – but when you are on a night out, it’s the girls with the clothes and shoes that get picked up.  And the girls who read, travel, write are the ones who get caught up in a conversation with the guy who is looking to pick up their friends.  Don’t get me wrong, it is very clear that girls who read, write or travel are not interested in these empty men, who are more interested in t and a, pink lipstick and big hair.  I have nothing against the girls with the short skirts and amazing cleavages – I believe that everyone deserves great love in their lives and that there is not one kind of person who deserves another kind of person. 

I think that it is clear that I identify with the girls who read and write and more than a little with the girls who travel articles.  I love to get lost in a good book, I love the moments of romance and I have on more than one occasion laughed out loud or sobbed my heart out at moments in a book.  Since I was a teenager, I have kept a very personal diary that I would be mortified if anyone read, as it tends to be full of awful poetry and very maudlin, self-indulgent angst.  I often need to write to get my head straight.  And I have this blog, where I am happy to share my public thoughts and feelings and accounts of my travels.  

What frustrates me is that in my experience, these qualities are not valued by the single men that I meet.  I may not be drop dead gorgeous, I do have a more than curvy figure, but I can out smile and laugh most people, and I can more than hold a great conversation.  The problem is that to get to the smile and the conversation, you need to get past the curviness and the lack of big hair.  Internet dating, which seems to be the best way to meet men, is just awful in my experience.  I find it to be a shallow and demeaning experience.  And it’s not like I have not tried.  I have tried many internet dating sites both in NZ and the UK and found them all to be just awful.  And what is worse is that there is always someone helpful who will tell you about their friends, friend or their aunties flatmate who met the man of their dreams on the internet.  Maybe I am looking in the wrong places, but I am yet to find someone who values me for me and can look past the exterior, which changes depending on the season.

Lena Dunham - defo not fat.

The series Girls began again in the UK last week.  I love Lena Dunham – she is one of my heroes.  Her writing is honest, quirky and feels more realistic than the Sex in the City genre.  I love that she does not care what people think of her. (And she dates one of the guys from Fun.  Could not be cooler in my eyes!)  On more than one occasion in the first two series, we have seen Lena in various states of undress.  To me, she is a normal sized girl.  She is not skinny, she is not fat, she is average.  I think that it is refreshing to see a cast of different sized girls in a hit series.  I like it that she shows herself in this way.  What I absolutely hate is the fall out that comes from it.  In one episode Lena’s character Hannah, spends a dirty weekend with a man that she has just met.  The man is very handsome, a doctor, I believe and very fit.  The online backlash about this episode was horrific.  Most of the comments were that a man like him would never sleep with a girl that looked like her.  Girls that look like her do not deserve a man like that.  Well what kind of men does she deserve?  And what kind of man do I deserve? I have a very different figure to her, but I am sure that she is likely smaller than me.   Why are some people so offended by the way that others look?  Surely it is none of their business.  And what really frustrates me is that when commentators defended Lena/Hannah by saying that she is normal sized and that people need to back off, that the most common defence was that obesity is killing people and that as a television star or role model, she needed to take more care and have more responsibility.  Drinking, drugs and smoking kill people too, all of which are shown in just about every primetime television show, I don’t see thousands of comments about this.  In our current culture, it is easy to pick on the overweight, it’s the trendy bullying of the moment. 

I am not alone in thinking that in this age of the thinner the better, that it is good for young girls to have role models who are not looks obsessed – Lena Dunham or even Adele are good examples of this.  This rant by Adam -And I am not finished - Hills made me love him more than ever.  And he has a point.  

What all of this leaves me thinking is – will I find someone this year?  Do I even want too?  Maybe I am just better off living my current life where if I want to watch Game of Thrones in bed with a twistie sandwich (or cookie time), I can, without any judgement  Maybe I am better off having inappropriate, unrequited crushes on men who would not look twice at me, but are missing out on a great person.  I don’t mean to sound defeatist, but I would much rather live the life that I am living now, full of travel, laughter and amazing friends, than live the life described by any of the articles that I have mentioned above.  I want joy, laughter and a great love, not a humdrum existence that I struggle through.  Am I asking too much?

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