Yay – Friday is finally here and the weather is absolutely glorious, hence my mood is much-improved too! Am feeling very upbeat as the week draws to a close, having been pretty fagged off for quite a bit of it.
I discussed my challenge with K last night, ahead of the weekend, so that he wasn’t alarmed at my not drinking. He was very cool and supportive about it, but reminded me that he ought to point out to his family that I am not part of his ‘club’ (i.e. AA) and therefore my choice not to drink is of my own volition. Bless him.
We touched a bit on how the blog was helping me address all my head stuff, whilst I abstained, which was probably the first time I’d really reviewed my ‘plan of action’. I also confessed to having become addicted to drinking memoirs, as a way to remind me that a) I am not alone and b) it could have been much, much worse! Above all, the therapy I get from writing stuff down has definitely helped me stick to my vows and I couldn’t imagine doing it without this now. No matter how ‘sorted’ I sometimes feel, I am only too aware that ‘there but for the grace of God go I’. Putting pen to paper (or should that be ink to printer) each day, is the best way of consolidating and addressing all my conflicting thoughts and feelings.
K was at the hospital today for a barrage of tests. It’s all linked to his thyroid, which has been getting him down of late, the frequency of his bad eye days having increased dramatically, and the pain from his eyes has at times been quite unbearable. I am hoping that there will be some positive news after it all, maybe some tweaking of his medication, as we are due a bloody break right now! We had a very tough 2008 and so far, 2009 has been a struggle with the light recently starting to appear at the end of the tunnel for a lot of stuff. With a bit of luck I am hoping that the next 6 months or so will be a smoother ride than of late and we will have a good run up to our wedding in December.
Talking of which, in my desire to stop procrastinating, I’ve been busy doing research and am now ready to start booking the main parts of my wedding. I have planned that in for next week, the challenge being to have it all done and dusted by end of June, with the exception of my dress which I won’t think about until the end of the summer. I am hoping that by then I will feel comfortable enough in my own skin to start looking and trying on, so am not rushing this element. I’d like the rest to be done, purely so that I don’t miss out on good deals and the dates I want.
It’s funny how Friday eves have got easier as the weeks have gone by. Friday was a real obstacle for me as I had become ritualistic about it being the start of the weekend and therefore the best excuse ever to crack open the wine. The first few weeks were hard as I had to change a long-standing habit of buying a bottle and a ready meal at M&S and either sharing (the food element) with K, or hibernating alone whenever he was out/away. Going home without my goodies and settling down for a quiet eve was made easier by the fact that we have been meeting on the South Bank on a Friday and wandering back together, sometimes stopping for a bite to eat. It took a change of routine and something to occupy my mind instead, to stop me falling back on bad/old ways. It sounds so simple and the action is in fact, nothing major. Having the gumption to do it the first week, then carrying on is the hardest part and I am no longer obsessing about what I am NOT having and am instead thinking about all the lovely stuff I am doing instead. K will be at home already tonight as he was back at the hospital this afternoon rather than the office, so I need to head back alone come the end of the day. I shall pick up some nice food, maybe some more herbs for K’s new garden project (well for garden read kitchen windowsill) and wander home via London Bridge. So much more healthy and rewarding than guzzling down a vat of rose and gorging on a fat-boy curry!!!
Friday, 29 May 2009
Thursday, 28 May 2009
The mess inside my head!
The weekend is already within sight and I am fair looking forward to it. It will be busy, but am sure it will be enjoyable, although am getting just a ‘leetle beet’ nervous about meeting all K’s family and doing the reading, now it is only days away. That said, I may lack confidence in many areas, but strangely, meeting new people is not one of my bugbears. I’d almost say I enjoy it, unless I know in advance that said company will not interest me (such as the family of one of my ex-boyfs, for instance, who brought a new meaning to the word dull!) when I go into Kevin the Teenager mode and yawn ostentatiously until I am granted an escape – ha ha!!!
My head has been up and down all this week though, with quite staggering highs and lows. Maybe it’s arriving at the one month date and realising I have only just started this journey and have a helluva long way to go yet. Maybe it’s the weather which has fucked me off big style being filthy one minute and glorious the next. Maybe it’s the mind-crushing boredom at work, as stuff trickles in but I am still occupying my time with deadly admin and other such time-passing endeavours. Maybe it’s just life, eh?
I have at least realised that I like to apportion blame to things as it’s neat and tidy in my mind if I can find a reason. I am hell bent on giving a meaning to everything and can not comprehend the idea that things ‘just happen’. It’s weird because I have been trying to ascertain what sort of mind I have, if only to gauge what I like/dislike/enjoy doing/hate or resent, in an effort to find things to do that don’t involve drinking and will keep me busy and suppress the desire for a drink.
I don’t think that I have what could be considered a logical brain, as I struggle a great deal with basic maths and science. I can grasp the big picture but am hopeless at the detail. I get bored very easily and equally I can get sudden inspiration and be full of ideas. However, I often can’t be arsed with the application element, which I like to think makes me a creative type – ha de ha ha!! But then I get terribly bogged down with sequences and patterns and things ‘fitting into place’ which kind of suggests that I am driven by order not chaos. I am anal about my desktop being clear, and keeping drawers and cupboards spotless, yet my home becomes a pig-sty before I have even noticed and I am quite capable of letting things slip there. I go through phases of being polished, from top to toe, then I can quite happily let my roots show, my nails break and wear the same things on a rotational basis to save ironing other stuff. As regards some subjects, my memory is positively photographic, then I can watch a history programme and be enraptured for hours, yet not be able to regurgitate a single date or fact straight after. I feel as if somewhere along the way in my development I have emerged as a mass of contradictions, like I’ve been fighting the left and the right side of my brain all my life. I wish, on the one hand, that I could just let go of what I consider my ‘hang-ups’, yet I count them as virtues when things need organised or sorted out or kept on track. I would also like to just let things go, take it as it comes and not get anal about things. However, as soon as I sense that chaos may well be taking over in Bedlam, I go hell for leather restoring calm again.
I suppose all of the above explains why I’ve had what I can only call an inner torment for as long as I can remember. The good girl, the dutiful daughter would do it this way. The bad girl, the devil child would do it like this. I kept using the bad one to beat up the good one and vice-versa, in perpetuity. I suppose bad isn’t even a fair word as I am not thinking of doing anything inherently evil. Bad in my books is not tidy, not organised, not simple and not ‘good for you’. Good is being a paragon of virtue but both are total extremes that can not be condoned as a way of life. So that’s where I am at today. When I can finally find my middle ground, I will be a very happy bunny!
My head has been up and down all this week though, with quite staggering highs and lows. Maybe it’s arriving at the one month date and realising I have only just started this journey and have a helluva long way to go yet. Maybe it’s the weather which has fucked me off big style being filthy one minute and glorious the next. Maybe it’s the mind-crushing boredom at work, as stuff trickles in but I am still occupying my time with deadly admin and other such time-passing endeavours. Maybe it’s just life, eh?
I have at least realised that I like to apportion blame to things as it’s neat and tidy in my mind if I can find a reason. I am hell bent on giving a meaning to everything and can not comprehend the idea that things ‘just happen’. It’s weird because I have been trying to ascertain what sort of mind I have, if only to gauge what I like/dislike/enjoy doing/hate or resent, in an effort to find things to do that don’t involve drinking and will keep me busy and suppress the desire for a drink.
I don’t think that I have what could be considered a logical brain, as I struggle a great deal with basic maths and science. I can grasp the big picture but am hopeless at the detail. I get bored very easily and equally I can get sudden inspiration and be full of ideas. However, I often can’t be arsed with the application element, which I like to think makes me a creative type – ha de ha ha!! But then I get terribly bogged down with sequences and patterns and things ‘fitting into place’ which kind of suggests that I am driven by order not chaos. I am anal about my desktop being clear, and keeping drawers and cupboards spotless, yet my home becomes a pig-sty before I have even noticed and I am quite capable of letting things slip there. I go through phases of being polished, from top to toe, then I can quite happily let my roots show, my nails break and wear the same things on a rotational basis to save ironing other stuff. As regards some subjects, my memory is positively photographic, then I can watch a history programme and be enraptured for hours, yet not be able to regurgitate a single date or fact straight after. I feel as if somewhere along the way in my development I have emerged as a mass of contradictions, like I’ve been fighting the left and the right side of my brain all my life. I wish, on the one hand, that I could just let go of what I consider my ‘hang-ups’, yet I count them as virtues when things need organised or sorted out or kept on track. I would also like to just let things go, take it as it comes and not get anal about things. However, as soon as I sense that chaos may well be taking over in Bedlam, I go hell for leather restoring calm again.
I suppose all of the above explains why I’ve had what I can only call an inner torment for as long as I can remember. The good girl, the dutiful daughter would do it this way. The bad girl, the devil child would do it like this. I kept using the bad one to beat up the good one and vice-versa, in perpetuity. I suppose bad isn’t even a fair word as I am not thinking of doing anything inherently evil. Bad in my books is not tidy, not organised, not simple and not ‘good for you’. Good is being a paragon of virtue but both are total extremes that can not be condoned as a way of life. So that’s where I am at today. When I can finally find my middle ground, I will be a very happy bunny!
Wednesday, 27 May 2009
Bleuurggghh!!
London has gone miserable again. After a weekend of brilliant sunshine, it’s soggy, dull and grey. I haven’t managed to walk in from Waterloo for 2 days and I feel lethargic. That said, I have started to take some positive steps whilst the weather has been foul, with regard to my endeavours to stop procrastinating and to start just doing instead – ha ha.
Yesterday I finally subscribed to The Guardian (saving a hefty 33%) and then went to meet my mate C to buy a digital camera from him at a very good price. K and I had been saying for a while that we needed one, but neither of us had bothered doing anything about it. With the christening this weekend, it was now or never and as C is someone I know who is well into his photography, it was just luck that he also wanted to sell an almost new camera just when I needed one. I feel such a sense of achievement, though, finally doing a couple of things that I have been putting off until tomorrow for ages. So I have started to make a list of stuff and am determined to work my way through it each day. Have even managed to install said camera on my pc today (a job I would be soooo leaving until later normally!) which is definitely a step in the right direction.
Anyway, am not feeling particularly verbose today. I have some stuff in my head, but nothing that I need to put down on paper today. Maybe tomorrow, eh!
Yesterday I finally subscribed to The Guardian (saving a hefty 33%) and then went to meet my mate C to buy a digital camera from him at a very good price. K and I had been saying for a while that we needed one, but neither of us had bothered doing anything about it. With the christening this weekend, it was now or never and as C is someone I know who is well into his photography, it was just luck that he also wanted to sell an almost new camera just when I needed one. I feel such a sense of achievement, though, finally doing a couple of things that I have been putting off until tomorrow for ages. So I have started to make a list of stuff and am determined to work my way through it each day. Have even managed to install said camera on my pc today (a job I would be soooo leaving until later normally!) which is definitely a step in the right direction.
Anyway, am not feeling particularly verbose today. I have some stuff in my head, but nothing that I need to put down on paper today. Maybe tomorrow, eh!
Tuesday, 26 May 2009
I am a sloth and I don't care!
Bank holidays – made for lying in bed! Ah - the pleasure of being old enough to do what I want and child-free, so that’s exactly how they pan out for me now and do I feel guilty? Do I heck!!
We did go out for some of the weekend, but enjoyed a mostly lazy one as we have such a lot coming up over the next few weeks. The highlight was dinner on Saturday eve, at a place we went for my birthday last year, just down the road from London Bridge. We decided a while ago to stop frittering money on your average weekly takeaway and saving ourselves for a monthly blow-out somewhere really exquisite. The treat factor is the benefit of this approach, as I even justified buying a new dress that day for the occasion!! As it was gorgeous and sunny we had a pre-dinner walk along the south bank and then a meal to remember. All of it was beautiful, tis just a shame that my very favourite bit, the hazelnut ice-cream, was actually on K’s plate!!!
I was chatting to my friend A yesterday about the meal, and explaining how not drinking has made me realise how over-important the wine aspect had become. A hasn’t drunk much at all of late, given that she is still having treatment and currently in the middle of her radiotherapy, so she could appreciate the sentiment. Enjoying a meal sans vino has recently become a pleasurable new experience, but I have to acknowledge now that so many of the fabulous dinners I have been fortunate enough to eat over the years are but a blur in the memory. I always thought primarily about the wine, enjoyed that aspect tremendously and recalled the food vaguely as being very nice. I’ve eaten in some of Europe’s best hotels and restaurants and yet virtually none of the food I consumed can be recalled. I could easily tell you, however, how many bottles of wine were drunk and what state I was in when the meal ended, on each and every occasion.
The fact is, my eye has always been on the bottle; seeing whether there was a need to order to another and how much was left for me if others in the party wanted some. God, being so very frank about it makes me sound terribly greedy, but the fact is, I always made sure I got my fair share (and a tad more if I could swing it). I would happily offer my chips or whatever to anyone who asked, but if someone dared to touch the wine, they’d get the death stare from me, as chance are they were about to ruin my carefully calculated divisions.
I can vividly recall the discomfort of being somewhere when the wine allocation was out of my control. I loathed being with my ex-boyfriend and visiting his family, as they took rationing to another level! I remember us both looking aghast at his uncle pouring a glass of wine each for a table of 6 and putting the cork back in on a remaining inch of red! It simply never occurred to us that everyone’s glassful was enough (being about 100ml) as we considered a 250ml glass ‘just a cheeky one’ and as for leaving some, ‘hello?’
When I stayed with friends in Gerona who hardly drink at all, I wasn’t alone in feeling ‘parched’ as my Dutch friends who were also visiting, snuck out with me onto the balcony when the other couple had gone to bed for what little was left in the one bottle they had opened that eve. My friend S and I had been and bought wine for the meal from the local shop, at least 3 bottles, but it never crossed our minds that the host and hostess would stop at less than one!
Each of the incidents above is clearly branded into my psyche, but ask me what I ate at The Lanesborough in London in 1998, or Le Dome in Paris in 2007 and I’d be lying if I said I could. I know it makes me sound avaricious, and to be honest I probably am, but I can only hope that I hid it well. I could quite easily have imagined ordering one very good glass of wine on Saturday night if I’d been ready to try just the one, but I am definitely nowhere near that stage. I am actually relieved that whilst a year is suddenly feeling like a very long time, this is the deadline I have set in stone. Any sooner and the lessons to be learnt about consumption could be forgotten just as quickly. I do feel stronger about my attitude already, but my resolve could be broken in a split second once I actually tasted some alcohol, so I am revelling in having completed a month and am relishing another eleven. OK, OK, there will be days when I wish to God I’d said 6 months instead, but if it doesn’t cause me some sort of pain from sacrifice, I am being far too kind to my soul. I know that only when I can truly understand how it felt to say no, when the urge was immense, will I ‘get’ why I am doing this challenge. I haven’t reached that point yet, but will definitely share it with you when I do.
We did go out for some of the weekend, but enjoyed a mostly lazy one as we have such a lot coming up over the next few weeks. The highlight was dinner on Saturday eve, at a place we went for my birthday last year, just down the road from London Bridge. We decided a while ago to stop frittering money on your average weekly takeaway and saving ourselves for a monthly blow-out somewhere really exquisite. The treat factor is the benefit of this approach, as I even justified buying a new dress that day for the occasion!! As it was gorgeous and sunny we had a pre-dinner walk along the south bank and then a meal to remember. All of it was beautiful, tis just a shame that my very favourite bit, the hazelnut ice-cream, was actually on K’s plate!!!
I was chatting to my friend A yesterday about the meal, and explaining how not drinking has made me realise how over-important the wine aspect had become. A hasn’t drunk much at all of late, given that she is still having treatment and currently in the middle of her radiotherapy, so she could appreciate the sentiment. Enjoying a meal sans vino has recently become a pleasurable new experience, but I have to acknowledge now that so many of the fabulous dinners I have been fortunate enough to eat over the years are but a blur in the memory. I always thought primarily about the wine, enjoyed that aspect tremendously and recalled the food vaguely as being very nice. I’ve eaten in some of Europe’s best hotels and restaurants and yet virtually none of the food I consumed can be recalled. I could easily tell you, however, how many bottles of wine were drunk and what state I was in when the meal ended, on each and every occasion.
The fact is, my eye has always been on the bottle; seeing whether there was a need to order to another and how much was left for me if others in the party wanted some. God, being so very frank about it makes me sound terribly greedy, but the fact is, I always made sure I got my fair share (and a tad more if I could swing it). I would happily offer my chips or whatever to anyone who asked, but if someone dared to touch the wine, they’d get the death stare from me, as chance are they were about to ruin my carefully calculated divisions.
I can vividly recall the discomfort of being somewhere when the wine allocation was out of my control. I loathed being with my ex-boyfriend and visiting his family, as they took rationing to another level! I remember us both looking aghast at his uncle pouring a glass of wine each for a table of 6 and putting the cork back in on a remaining inch of red! It simply never occurred to us that everyone’s glassful was enough (being about 100ml) as we considered a 250ml glass ‘just a cheeky one’ and as for leaving some, ‘hello?’
When I stayed with friends in Gerona who hardly drink at all, I wasn’t alone in feeling ‘parched’ as my Dutch friends who were also visiting, snuck out with me onto the balcony when the other couple had gone to bed for what little was left in the one bottle they had opened that eve. My friend S and I had been and bought wine for the meal from the local shop, at least 3 bottles, but it never crossed our minds that the host and hostess would stop at less than one!
Each of the incidents above is clearly branded into my psyche, but ask me what I ate at The Lanesborough in London in 1998, or Le Dome in Paris in 2007 and I’d be lying if I said I could. I know it makes me sound avaricious, and to be honest I probably am, but I can only hope that I hid it well. I could quite easily have imagined ordering one very good glass of wine on Saturday night if I’d been ready to try just the one, but I am definitely nowhere near that stage. I am actually relieved that whilst a year is suddenly feeling like a very long time, this is the deadline I have set in stone. Any sooner and the lessons to be learnt about consumption could be forgotten just as quickly. I do feel stronger about my attitude already, but my resolve could be broken in a split second once I actually tasted some alcohol, so I am revelling in having completed a month and am relishing another eleven. OK, OK, there will be days when I wish to God I’d said 6 months instead, but if it doesn’t cause me some sort of pain from sacrifice, I am being far too kind to my soul. I know that only when I can truly understand how it felt to say no, when the urge was immense, will I ‘get’ why I am doing this challenge. I haven’t reached that point yet, but will definitely share it with you when I do.
Friday, 22 May 2009
As my anniversary approaches...
The weekend beckons and I am really looking forward to a relaxing one before we have a couple of busy ones. Next weekend is the christening, and I am trying to resist the urge to buy a new outfit. I have a ton of clothes in my wardrobe which I haven’t worn for ages (didn’t fit) that I now find fit me very well and flatter my slowly shrinking figure. In spite of an abundance of perfectly good dresses, I’ve been window shopping (what’s window shopping on t’internet, eh – screen-licking?) and am soooo tempted to splash out.
The devil is pulling me to the shops and the angel is saying wait until you feel comfortable in your skin again and happy with your weight. It’s like the impatience you get as a child when you can see presents to be opened under the tree and you are offered the ‘you can have one on Xmas Eve or keep them all until tomorrow’ option by your parents – well that’s what happened in our house! My bro always went for opening one now, but I invariably resisted with a smug, self-satisfied look on my face.
Question is, did I actually appreciate it more the next day, or not? I’m inclined to think not. I have a similar attitude to savings. Whenever I have saved money and then spent it in a splurge on whatever it was designated for, the reality has been a real let down. Maybe that’s natural, maybe that’s me, I just don’t know. K on the other hand, who was incapable of saving before I came along to help manage his finances, displays extreme pleasure when he gets his hands on something he has been saving up for. He needed a new battery recently for his exceptionally expensive watch, which costs an obscene amount to replace. As such, we’d earmarked the expenditure for last month’s salary and when he got the watch back (from its trip to bloody Switzerland FFS!) he couldn’t contain his glee. Seriously, he kept looking at it and shaking it on his wrist for days, so pleased was he to have his now gleaming and functioning watch. My feelings when I bought some shoes last month that I had been considering for a while, was a whole different ball game. Maybe it’s because I spend such an immense amount of time planning and budgeting, that the thrill is somehow lost. Also, perhaps as I am doing the planning and budgeting for K, he can actually sit back and enjoy the event. I am deeply tempted to just go out with my credit card and buy what my heart desires as and when I see it and see how it feels. But as my lunch break today involves a trip through Mayfair with my colleagues to a leaving lunch, perhaps I should save that idea for the weekend – ha ha!
Anyhoo, am not back to work until Tuesday 26th which is my first anniversary of not drinking. Yay! One month of total sobriety will have passed and I will be one twelfth closer to my target. Am not gonna get too excited, as I do have 4 days to go but as I don’t feel in the slightest bit tempted to drink still, am fairly confident that I will make it.
So, what have I learnt over that period of time?
- I have no concept of moderation in any aspect of my life – alcohol is just one of the things that I consume/do in an excessive fashion;
- I am happier on a day-to-day basis without a perma-hangover. I also experience variations in mood based on events (which are therefore entirely normal) rather than my own internal struggles;
- I have a long, long way to go if I am ever to get back to normal drinking. I am no longer scared though, that I might well become permanently sober and am willing to face the fact that whilst I am no alcoholic, I do have a drink problem.
I have also achieved a great deal.
- I have saved a fortune! OK, I’ve spent it on other life-enhancing stuff, but wow, how nice to be flush again;
- I have lost over half a stone in weight (I don’t weigh myself but use clothes as a guide and the comments from my friends) and feel much, much healthier;
- I have got on top of the housework and started to keep things up on a continual basis rather than constantly lurching from pristine to pigsty.
Next month will be interesting as I am starting to settle in to the challenge and imagine that complacency and boredom will be my greatest hurdles. I am not setting myself any goals this time, having learnt that this can be my biggest enemy, thus thwarting my success. I shall, instead, just go with the flow, something I have never knowingly done before!!!
The devil is pulling me to the shops and the angel is saying wait until you feel comfortable in your skin again and happy with your weight. It’s like the impatience you get as a child when you can see presents to be opened under the tree and you are offered the ‘you can have one on Xmas Eve or keep them all until tomorrow’ option by your parents – well that’s what happened in our house! My bro always went for opening one now, but I invariably resisted with a smug, self-satisfied look on my face.
Question is, did I actually appreciate it more the next day, or not? I’m inclined to think not. I have a similar attitude to savings. Whenever I have saved money and then spent it in a splurge on whatever it was designated for, the reality has been a real let down. Maybe that’s natural, maybe that’s me, I just don’t know. K on the other hand, who was incapable of saving before I came along to help manage his finances, displays extreme pleasure when he gets his hands on something he has been saving up for. He needed a new battery recently for his exceptionally expensive watch, which costs an obscene amount to replace. As such, we’d earmarked the expenditure for last month’s salary and when he got the watch back (from its trip to bloody Switzerland FFS!) he couldn’t contain his glee. Seriously, he kept looking at it and shaking it on his wrist for days, so pleased was he to have his now gleaming and functioning watch. My feelings when I bought some shoes last month that I had been considering for a while, was a whole different ball game. Maybe it’s because I spend such an immense amount of time planning and budgeting, that the thrill is somehow lost. Also, perhaps as I am doing the planning and budgeting for K, he can actually sit back and enjoy the event. I am deeply tempted to just go out with my credit card and buy what my heart desires as and when I see it and see how it feels. But as my lunch break today involves a trip through Mayfair with my colleagues to a leaving lunch, perhaps I should save that idea for the weekend – ha ha!
Anyhoo, am not back to work until Tuesday 26th which is my first anniversary of not drinking. Yay! One month of total sobriety will have passed and I will be one twelfth closer to my target. Am not gonna get too excited, as I do have 4 days to go but as I don’t feel in the slightest bit tempted to drink still, am fairly confident that I will make it.
So, what have I learnt over that period of time?
- I have no concept of moderation in any aspect of my life – alcohol is just one of the things that I consume/do in an excessive fashion;
- I am happier on a day-to-day basis without a perma-hangover. I also experience variations in mood based on events (which are therefore entirely normal) rather than my own internal struggles;
- I have a long, long way to go if I am ever to get back to normal drinking. I am no longer scared though, that I might well become permanently sober and am willing to face the fact that whilst I am no alcoholic, I do have a drink problem.
I have also achieved a great deal.
- I have saved a fortune! OK, I’ve spent it on other life-enhancing stuff, but wow, how nice to be flush again;
- I have lost over half a stone in weight (I don’t weigh myself but use clothes as a guide and the comments from my friends) and feel much, much healthier;
- I have got on top of the housework and started to keep things up on a continual basis rather than constantly lurching from pristine to pigsty.
Next month will be interesting as I am starting to settle in to the challenge and imagine that complacency and boredom will be my greatest hurdles. I am not setting myself any goals this time, having learnt that this can be my biggest enemy, thus thwarting my success. I shall, instead, just go with the flow, something I have never knowingly done before!!!
Thursday, 21 May 2009
Living for the weekend...
Had quiet evening in yesterday. K was back lateish so I had time to potter and do some chores, make dinner and bathe in peace, which was lovely. Was reflecting too on my first big social engagement hurdle, at the end of the month. K’s sister is having her youngest christened. As a result, both sides of their respective families will be down and it will be the first time that I get to meet K’s Glaswegian relatives. Am really looking forward to it, but have to admit to being slightly anxious about the non-drinking part.
One aspect of K’s sobriety is that no-one ever tries to force booze on us in a social situation. It certainly helps, but on this occasion, it being a ‘knees-up’ type of affair, I think K has simply presumed that I will drink, as a special occasion thing. He’s very sensitive to the fact that other people around him should be allowed to drink as they see fit, so I don’t want to put him on edge by remaining dry, his worry being that it might appear to others that he is trying to influence my drinking habits. As we are going out for a really nice dinner on Saturday eve, I think it would be best to broach the subject then and perhaps explain a little about my ‘challenge’. I’d rather he was aware in advance than confused and concerned next weekend.
It’s funny, though, how not drinking is something you always have to explain. Unlike not smoking, which is totally understandable, everyone wants a ‘reason’ why you don’t drink alcohol, the assumption being we all want it and not wanting it is the odd thing. I know that I have been as guilty as the next person of quizzing anyone who didn’t want a drink on their motives, be it religion, alcoholism, a simple dislike/allergy or a monster hangover, there always had to be one.
It also struck me today, on my way into work, that my bottle of wine had been a faithful ‘friend’ for many years, and that giving it up as I have done is no mean feat, as it’s like rejecting and avoiding the one thing that has given you comfort over a long period of time. It’s usually around Thursday, as the weekend beckons, that I start to think about my association with drink, as Friday was always the start of drinking (had I not already spent the week on the piss as was often the case!!!). Almost everyone I know views the tipping point of Friday night as the start of some sort of bacchanalian feast, when booze and food can be consumed in massive quantities with impunity. I often hear people say that they ‘only indulge at the weekends’ as if eating their body weight in cream and cheese and drinking their recommended weekly allowance x 3 over 48 hours is somehow better that way! Fair enough, when you are working it’s best to do it with a clear head, which is the sensible reason for such an approach but there is another far more complex mental association for most people. They view the sinning over the course of 3 days as off-set by being a saint the rest of the time. They wait hungrily for Friday evening as the start of a free for all and then lament Sunday night when they have to put the brakes on. They live their lives wishing the week away and longing for bank holidays when they get an extra drinking day. Drinking becomes lionised as the best bit of the week, the fun part and the rest is simply passing the time making the money to spend on it.
So there is still a massive way for me to go before I can disassociate myself from this sort of behaviour. I still view the weekend as the start of pleasure and the week as a chore. I have to make a lot of changes to shake this up and they are definitely going to take time. But the first step is recognising it so at least I have embarked on the journey as best I can.
Anyway, tomorrow is indeed Friday and the start of a bank holiday weekend. Bring – it – on!!!
One aspect of K’s sobriety is that no-one ever tries to force booze on us in a social situation. It certainly helps, but on this occasion, it being a ‘knees-up’ type of affair, I think K has simply presumed that I will drink, as a special occasion thing. He’s very sensitive to the fact that other people around him should be allowed to drink as they see fit, so I don’t want to put him on edge by remaining dry, his worry being that it might appear to others that he is trying to influence my drinking habits. As we are going out for a really nice dinner on Saturday eve, I think it would be best to broach the subject then and perhaps explain a little about my ‘challenge’. I’d rather he was aware in advance than confused and concerned next weekend.
It’s funny, though, how not drinking is something you always have to explain. Unlike not smoking, which is totally understandable, everyone wants a ‘reason’ why you don’t drink alcohol, the assumption being we all want it and not wanting it is the odd thing. I know that I have been as guilty as the next person of quizzing anyone who didn’t want a drink on their motives, be it religion, alcoholism, a simple dislike/allergy or a monster hangover, there always had to be one.
It also struck me today, on my way into work, that my bottle of wine had been a faithful ‘friend’ for many years, and that giving it up as I have done is no mean feat, as it’s like rejecting and avoiding the one thing that has given you comfort over a long period of time. It’s usually around Thursday, as the weekend beckons, that I start to think about my association with drink, as Friday was always the start of drinking (had I not already spent the week on the piss as was often the case!!!). Almost everyone I know views the tipping point of Friday night as the start of some sort of bacchanalian feast, when booze and food can be consumed in massive quantities with impunity. I often hear people say that they ‘only indulge at the weekends’ as if eating their body weight in cream and cheese and drinking their recommended weekly allowance x 3 over 48 hours is somehow better that way! Fair enough, when you are working it’s best to do it with a clear head, which is the sensible reason for such an approach but there is another far more complex mental association for most people. They view the sinning over the course of 3 days as off-set by being a saint the rest of the time. They wait hungrily for Friday evening as the start of a free for all and then lament Sunday night when they have to put the brakes on. They live their lives wishing the week away and longing for bank holidays when they get an extra drinking day. Drinking becomes lionised as the best bit of the week, the fun part and the rest is simply passing the time making the money to spend on it.
So there is still a massive way for me to go before I can disassociate myself from this sort of behaviour. I still view the weekend as the start of pleasure and the week as a chore. I have to make a lot of changes to shake this up and they are definitely going to take time. But the first step is recognising it so at least I have embarked on the journey as best I can.
Anyway, tomorrow is indeed Friday and the start of a bank holiday weekend. Bring – it – on!!!
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Just peachy!
I read a good article in Red magazine yesterday, entitled ‘Is drinking the new smoking?’
Firstly, I really ought to give up my addiction to women’s magazines, but try as I might, they sort of jump off the shelves of WHSmith, and chase me across the concourse at Charing X, so that I feel honour bound to buy them! It started when I worked at L’Oreal and part of my job was checking the magazines and approving all our ads. The range was huge – from Heat to Saga magazine and I even started reading Reader’s Digest at the time – hmm, marking my move into middle-age I imagine! Anyway, I may have stopped all the others but somehow Red is a habit I have failed to break and if nothing else, it can be considered my guilty pleasure (along with Zest, Time Out, The Economist etc etc. Oh damn it ‘my name is Ilona and I am a magazinaholic!!’)
Anyway, enough on that subject. The crux of the article mentioned above is that being teetotal is the new black. Yep, when it became taboo to smoke and all the puffers were forced out onto balconies and patios, no-one considered that the next potentially anti-social habit would end up being a glass of el vino. I have considered how I fit into the new puritan circle and am not convinced that I’ve made that leap of faith just yet. True, I am abstaining, but in a purely self-centred and in some ways independent fashion. I have told everyone I have met since giving up that I have no truck with them imbibing and haven’t turned down a social event based on alcohol being consumed. I have sipped my fizzy water and not even been tempted to sniff a glass of red and have, in my mind, been more entertaining and in control than if I’d had a few glasses. Question is, would my friends agree? Would they instead say that sitting opposite someone being so pious and precious is as much of a turn-off as if I were preaching the evils of alcohol at them from a pulpit? I don’t dare ask, because heading down that road would be an encouragement for me to drink again and thus become my old self and be better company. On the other hand, I could be correct in my assumption that I am going about abstention in my own sweet and quiet way and that my social diary is not about to implode – ha ha!
However, one thing that I do know is an improvement, at least according to K, is my complexion. Such a lovely, old-fashioned word, that, and I smiled when he mentioned it at dinner the other eve. We still haven’t had a conversation about my non-drinking, as I suspect this time he has realised that I am keeping it to myself and is respecting that decision. We discuss it as if it were a given that I am no longer boozing, but without delving into the whys and wherefores. He told me that my skin was one of the things he praised after our first meeting, when his sister had asked him for a de-brief! Apparently, in his kind and gentle way, my skin was blotchy when I was over-indulging and is looking plump and dewy now! Ahh – bless him and his way with words.
The upshot is that looking better is definitely an incentive. I am 35 now and can’t mess about with these things any longer. An erratic beauty routine (from previously sleeping in make-up and being permanently dehydrated) won't help keep the crow’s feet at bay, that’s for sure. The 2 litres of water I am now knocking back at work is also helping and I am struggling to imagine what it was like before. I am permanently thirsty now, despite drenching myself with still and sparkling water, green and mint tea like they were all going out of fashion. It must work on the same principle as alcohol, cos the more I have the more I want - ha ha!
Actually, there is a Volvic advert doing the rounds at the moment with a smug, self-satisfied twat on it, which drives K to distraction every time it’s on. It will never, I repeat NEVER be cool and hip to drink water. Sensible and mature, yes, but for God's sake advertisers wake up to your bloody selves and stop trying to make us believe that a bit-part actor with an infantile haircut and a cheesy (read nauseating) grin is someone we want to aspire to. Bill Nighy, Frankie Boyle, Alastair Campbell, Billy Connolly or other reformed drinkers on the other hand, now they might make me wanna drink Volvic, if only cos I could aspire to being like some of my favourite totty!!!
Firstly, I really ought to give up my addiction to women’s magazines, but try as I might, they sort of jump off the shelves of WHSmith, and chase me across the concourse at Charing X, so that I feel honour bound to buy them! It started when I worked at L’Oreal and part of my job was checking the magazines and approving all our ads. The range was huge – from Heat to Saga magazine and I even started reading Reader’s Digest at the time – hmm, marking my move into middle-age I imagine! Anyway, I may have stopped all the others but somehow Red is a habit I have failed to break and if nothing else, it can be considered my guilty pleasure (along with Zest, Time Out, The Economist etc etc. Oh damn it ‘my name is Ilona and I am a magazinaholic!!’)
Anyway, enough on that subject. The crux of the article mentioned above is that being teetotal is the new black. Yep, when it became taboo to smoke and all the puffers were forced out onto balconies and patios, no-one considered that the next potentially anti-social habit would end up being a glass of el vino. I have considered how I fit into the new puritan circle and am not convinced that I’ve made that leap of faith just yet. True, I am abstaining, but in a purely self-centred and in some ways independent fashion. I have told everyone I have met since giving up that I have no truck with them imbibing and haven’t turned down a social event based on alcohol being consumed. I have sipped my fizzy water and not even been tempted to sniff a glass of red and have, in my mind, been more entertaining and in control than if I’d had a few glasses. Question is, would my friends agree? Would they instead say that sitting opposite someone being so pious and precious is as much of a turn-off as if I were preaching the evils of alcohol at them from a pulpit? I don’t dare ask, because heading down that road would be an encouragement for me to drink again and thus become my old self and be better company. On the other hand, I could be correct in my assumption that I am going about abstention in my own sweet and quiet way and that my social diary is not about to implode – ha ha!
However, one thing that I do know is an improvement, at least according to K, is my complexion. Such a lovely, old-fashioned word, that, and I smiled when he mentioned it at dinner the other eve. We still haven’t had a conversation about my non-drinking, as I suspect this time he has realised that I am keeping it to myself and is respecting that decision. We discuss it as if it were a given that I am no longer boozing, but without delving into the whys and wherefores. He told me that my skin was one of the things he praised after our first meeting, when his sister had asked him for a de-brief! Apparently, in his kind and gentle way, my skin was blotchy when I was over-indulging and is looking plump and dewy now! Ahh – bless him and his way with words.
The upshot is that looking better is definitely an incentive. I am 35 now and can’t mess about with these things any longer. An erratic beauty routine (from previously sleeping in make-up and being permanently dehydrated) won't help keep the crow’s feet at bay, that’s for sure. The 2 litres of water I am now knocking back at work is also helping and I am struggling to imagine what it was like before. I am permanently thirsty now, despite drenching myself with still and sparkling water, green and mint tea like they were all going out of fashion. It must work on the same principle as alcohol, cos the more I have the more I want - ha ha!
Actually, there is a Volvic advert doing the rounds at the moment with a smug, self-satisfied twat on it, which drives K to distraction every time it’s on. It will never, I repeat NEVER be cool and hip to drink water. Sensible and mature, yes, but for God's sake advertisers wake up to your bloody selves and stop trying to make us believe that a bit-part actor with an infantile haircut and a cheesy (read nauseating) grin is someone we want to aspire to. Bill Nighy, Frankie Boyle, Alastair Campbell, Billy Connolly or other reformed drinkers on the other hand, now they might make me wanna drink Volvic, if only cos I could aspire to being like some of my favourite totty!!!
Tuesday, 19 May 2009
Blubber and all that crap!
Weight loss. What a subject and how long can the average female ramble on about it (without pausing, repetition or deviation!). It is an eternal conundrum that the vast majority of ladies that I know, in spite of being well educated and sensible, spend more time talking about, starting and finishing and considering diets than anything else. Rare are the women (and I admit that they exist albeit in very small numbers) that I know for whom food and drink is not an eternal and fine balancing act between pleasure and torture.
Since knocking the booze on the head I have slowly and steadily lost about half a stone. In addition, I have been good about food, I admit, and have exercised as much as inclination and the weather allows. I have also experienced a loss of appetite, at least as I knew it before, so am now doing just one significant thing: skipping breakfast.
Aaagggghhh! Every nutritionist in the land is screaming at me but, for the first time ever, I don’t care. In my head, it’s really bloody simple. I was not brought up to eat breakfast. If my mother was sending children to school today, she’d be vilified and have her home pelted with eggs; by the teachers. She broke the rules big time and didn’t insist that me nor my brother ate before school. We always had a good and relatively healthy packed lunch so her philosophy was that we wouldn’t starve and if we weren’t wanting food at 8am, so what? We could eat at breaktime if we were hungry and then we’d be home by 4pm, at which point a visit to the biscuit barrel was a pre-requisite. Understandably, she lost no sleep over this decision and there was always bread and cereal around if we really wanted it.
By university, however, I was snacking on toast in the mornings – not out of hunger but from being in a house share for the first time and doing the same as everyone else – and I piled on the pounds. In my early 20s I was skipping it again, as I was out partying until the early hours and hadn’t got time before work and was, in many people’s opinions, at my thinnest ever. My first serious relationship saw me piling the weight back on, as I joined my partner in having something before work (usually stodge!!) and thereafter I religiously followed nutritionists’ advice to always have something to wake your metabolism.
Well I have finally decided to ignore their pleas and have been going without for the last 3 weeks. I’m not hungry first thing, it’s a simple fact and if that’s down to my upbringing, then so be it. The way I see it, if it’s a habit that formed back then, my metabolism learnt to wake itself up a long time ago – ha ha!!! In the mornings I have more than enough energy to keep me going and by lunch time I am really looking forward to my well-balanced and perfectly healthy meal: soup or salad, oatcakes and an Activia yoghurt (all good). I’ve stopped snacking, or even the urge to do it, but by evening I can cook and eat a proper meal with my other half, of meat and 2 veg or a stir fry and I’m done. I don’t go out for dinner and moan about there being no salads on the menu, no-one even needs to be bothered by my not eating breakfast and I can treat myself to a little fat, some cream maybe or some cheese with my evening meal, without feeling like I‘ve over-indulged.
My conclusion? Throw away the diet books, forget the plans and write your own one based on simple, good old-fashioned common sense. What works for me may well be useless for someone else so who cares? If dieting was left to the individual, if harassment about eating certain things, guilty feelings of being naughty and all the other baggage we carry around was removed, everyone would surely settle into their own rhythm eventually? If the waistband was an indicator of weight gain and not the scales, we’d all know when it was too tight and therefore time to cut back a bit.
Years ago, in my mid teens, I read some advice in Cosmo. It suggested tying a string around your waist so that you didn’t over eat. I quite clearly remember trying it and that, I think, was the start of a long and boring relationship with diets! The more someone is told not to have/do something the more they want it. If the media wasn’t saturated (like my favourite fats!) with weight loss articles, tips and photos of slightly rotund people being lambasted for putting on a few pounds, we’d all think about the subject much, much less.
Anyway, am stepping off my soapbox as I have to share with you what never fails to make me laugh about my own personal weight loss style. Whenever I’ve managed a diet for any length of time, it literally drops off me from top to bottom! It starts with the face, then the shoulders, followed by rib cage and waist. All pretty rapid then a long, slow and very tedious wait for the middle area to reduce. This is when I usually get bored and give up so I need willpower this time around. I need to lose (as someone recently described it in a blog) my ‘flesh-coloured bum bag’ which neatly sums up the spare bit below my waist and above my thighs - ha ha!! The thighs, ahhh the thighs. Thunderous (of course) but I really do have ickle legs!! Then my bulbous calves which give me Queen Anne style pins, which would look lovely on a table but less so on little old me!! If ever I spot the calves reducing in size (thus enabling me to finally pull on some knee high boots, much to K’s delight!), then I know I’m doing well. I’ve yet to see the fat reduce on my tootsies and still have honking great size 6 feet all the same, but if my shoes start to feel roomy then I will know that I have finally gone too far – ha ha!
Since knocking the booze on the head I have slowly and steadily lost about half a stone. In addition, I have been good about food, I admit, and have exercised as much as inclination and the weather allows. I have also experienced a loss of appetite, at least as I knew it before, so am now doing just one significant thing: skipping breakfast.
Aaagggghhh! Every nutritionist in the land is screaming at me but, for the first time ever, I don’t care. In my head, it’s really bloody simple. I was not brought up to eat breakfast. If my mother was sending children to school today, she’d be vilified and have her home pelted with eggs; by the teachers. She broke the rules big time and didn’t insist that me nor my brother ate before school. We always had a good and relatively healthy packed lunch so her philosophy was that we wouldn’t starve and if we weren’t wanting food at 8am, so what? We could eat at breaktime if we were hungry and then we’d be home by 4pm, at which point a visit to the biscuit barrel was a pre-requisite. Understandably, she lost no sleep over this decision and there was always bread and cereal around if we really wanted it.
By university, however, I was snacking on toast in the mornings – not out of hunger but from being in a house share for the first time and doing the same as everyone else – and I piled on the pounds. In my early 20s I was skipping it again, as I was out partying until the early hours and hadn’t got time before work and was, in many people’s opinions, at my thinnest ever. My first serious relationship saw me piling the weight back on, as I joined my partner in having something before work (usually stodge!!) and thereafter I religiously followed nutritionists’ advice to always have something to wake your metabolism.
Well I have finally decided to ignore their pleas and have been going without for the last 3 weeks. I’m not hungry first thing, it’s a simple fact and if that’s down to my upbringing, then so be it. The way I see it, if it’s a habit that formed back then, my metabolism learnt to wake itself up a long time ago – ha ha!!! In the mornings I have more than enough energy to keep me going and by lunch time I am really looking forward to my well-balanced and perfectly healthy meal: soup or salad, oatcakes and an Activia yoghurt (all good). I’ve stopped snacking, or even the urge to do it, but by evening I can cook and eat a proper meal with my other half, of meat and 2 veg or a stir fry and I’m done. I don’t go out for dinner and moan about there being no salads on the menu, no-one even needs to be bothered by my not eating breakfast and I can treat myself to a little fat, some cream maybe or some cheese with my evening meal, without feeling like I‘ve over-indulged.
My conclusion? Throw away the diet books, forget the plans and write your own one based on simple, good old-fashioned common sense. What works for me may well be useless for someone else so who cares? If dieting was left to the individual, if harassment about eating certain things, guilty feelings of being naughty and all the other baggage we carry around was removed, everyone would surely settle into their own rhythm eventually? If the waistband was an indicator of weight gain and not the scales, we’d all know when it was too tight and therefore time to cut back a bit.
Years ago, in my mid teens, I read some advice in Cosmo. It suggested tying a string around your waist so that you didn’t over eat. I quite clearly remember trying it and that, I think, was the start of a long and boring relationship with diets! The more someone is told not to have/do something the more they want it. If the media wasn’t saturated (like my favourite fats!) with weight loss articles, tips and photos of slightly rotund people being lambasted for putting on a few pounds, we’d all think about the subject much, much less.
Anyway, am stepping off my soapbox as I have to share with you what never fails to make me laugh about my own personal weight loss style. Whenever I’ve managed a diet for any length of time, it literally drops off me from top to bottom! It starts with the face, then the shoulders, followed by rib cage and waist. All pretty rapid then a long, slow and very tedious wait for the middle area to reduce. This is when I usually get bored and give up so I need willpower this time around. I need to lose (as someone recently described it in a blog) my ‘flesh-coloured bum bag’ which neatly sums up the spare bit below my waist and above my thighs - ha ha!! The thighs, ahhh the thighs. Thunderous (of course) but I really do have ickle legs!! Then my bulbous calves which give me Queen Anne style pins, which would look lovely on a table but less so on little old me!! If ever I spot the calves reducing in size (thus enabling me to finally pull on some knee high boots, much to K’s delight!), then I know I’m doing well. I’ve yet to see the fat reduce on my tootsies and still have honking great size 6 feet all the same, but if my shoes start to feel roomy then I will know that I have finally gone too far – ha ha!
Monday, 18 May 2009
Out of my bloody way!
Was in a shocking mood this morning. Woke up feeling fine, no complaints, yet by the time my other half had left (or should that be fled!) I was in a foul temper. No reason – tea brought to me in bed, nice long lie, yet if looks could kill, there would be tourists’ bodies lying all over Central London right now! I stomped into work and through St James’s Park at lunchtime (hideous place full of French schoolchildren and coach parties of geriatric Italians), then on to House of Fraser to exchange my pyjamas. I must have had a very effective ‘don’t even go there’ face on me, as even the girls in the beauty hall stepped out of my way!
So the lovely (yet pygmy-sized) pyjamas are now a black and cream nightie and dressing gown. All attempts by K to bring a bit of colour into my wardrobe have been in vain. That said, I bought a coloured dress the other week, so maybe it was simply a case of too much too soon. Yellow and pink were perhaps a tad too far for me and my Morticia Adams look. I actually liked them but, sadly, the store I visited didn’t have a bigger size and so I couldn’t help but take a look at the other stuff that just happened to be black – ha ha ha!
By the time I got back and had lunch I felt much better. But I can’t remember the last time that my wrong time of the month was so blatantly accompanied by mood swings. It may well be that my much reduced intake of sugar is dropping my testosterone levels (as a PCOS sufferer, these are high if I don’t watch the sugar in my diet) and normal service has therefore resumed, making me just a very average premenstrual woman – ha ha, and scary with it.
Weekend was incredibly relaxing – though I did do lots of house work which I find strangely therapeutic. Here’s how I think it works: a mindless activity which still demands concentration i.e. on what to clean, what products I need, what to do next etc and as such, I get to ‘rinse my head out’ as I put it, for a few hours. K disappeared to Camden for the best part of the day (on my instruction as I like to be alone for a cleaning frenzy!) leaving me with free reign to work my way through the house. The result and the process are equally therapeutic, as there is nothing I like more than an orderly home and an orderly mind. What I need to do now and what I haven’t managed before is the daily maintenance to stop it getting filthy again. I am as ‘all or nothing’ about housework as I am about food and wine, so let’s see if I can manage yet another attempt at moderation.
So did I miss the booze this weekend? Yes and no. Friday we bumped into friends on the Southbank and whilst we stopped to chat, was more than happy to not join them for a drink as I had no inclination. On Saturday we changed our minds about going to a concert in the eve and had a lovely quiet night in and so still no temptation. Sunday, after a whole day of hard work and cooking the dinner, I got a pang. A pang of how nice a glass of wine would be but then straight away I went through a mental checklist: would I, could I, should I, I am calling it!
- Would it taste nice and make me feel good? Answer: probably yes
- Could you stop at just one glass? Answer: probably no
- Should you be drinking on a school night anyway (as tomorrow would be Monday). Answer: no
Sorted! Every time I have a longing, I run through the above and so far so good.
Have decided to make my resolutions weekly rather than daily so today I am:
- Vowing to run at the weekends again. I went on Sunday and remembered just what a boost it gives me;
- Giving up cake in the week. Tis a weekend treat only, now. Chocolate's still OK though - ha ha!
As for thanks, I am also restricting that to once a week, for fear of repetitiveness! This week, therefore, I am:
- Thankful for my aunt, who lifted my spirits at the weekend and reminded me that even if my mum and dad insist on behaving dreadfully, she will always be there for me and has agreed to be at my wedding;
- So glad that I have my job. It has its ups and downs but my colleagues are pretty decent folk all told and it keeps me sane whilst paying me well;
- Thankful that I am losing even more weight. More about that tomorrow!!!!
So the lovely (yet pygmy-sized) pyjamas are now a black and cream nightie and dressing gown. All attempts by K to bring a bit of colour into my wardrobe have been in vain. That said, I bought a coloured dress the other week, so maybe it was simply a case of too much too soon. Yellow and pink were perhaps a tad too far for me and my Morticia Adams look. I actually liked them but, sadly, the store I visited didn’t have a bigger size and so I couldn’t help but take a look at the other stuff that just happened to be black – ha ha ha!
By the time I got back and had lunch I felt much better. But I can’t remember the last time that my wrong time of the month was so blatantly accompanied by mood swings. It may well be that my much reduced intake of sugar is dropping my testosterone levels (as a PCOS sufferer, these are high if I don’t watch the sugar in my diet) and normal service has therefore resumed, making me just a very average premenstrual woman – ha ha, and scary with it.
Weekend was incredibly relaxing – though I did do lots of house work which I find strangely therapeutic. Here’s how I think it works: a mindless activity which still demands concentration i.e. on what to clean, what products I need, what to do next etc and as such, I get to ‘rinse my head out’ as I put it, for a few hours. K disappeared to Camden for the best part of the day (on my instruction as I like to be alone for a cleaning frenzy!) leaving me with free reign to work my way through the house. The result and the process are equally therapeutic, as there is nothing I like more than an orderly home and an orderly mind. What I need to do now and what I haven’t managed before is the daily maintenance to stop it getting filthy again. I am as ‘all or nothing’ about housework as I am about food and wine, so let’s see if I can manage yet another attempt at moderation.
So did I miss the booze this weekend? Yes and no. Friday we bumped into friends on the Southbank and whilst we stopped to chat, was more than happy to not join them for a drink as I had no inclination. On Saturday we changed our minds about going to a concert in the eve and had a lovely quiet night in and so still no temptation. Sunday, after a whole day of hard work and cooking the dinner, I got a pang. A pang of how nice a glass of wine would be but then straight away I went through a mental checklist: would I, could I, should I, I am calling it!
- Would it taste nice and make me feel good? Answer: probably yes
- Could you stop at just one glass? Answer: probably no
- Should you be drinking on a school night anyway (as tomorrow would be Monday). Answer: no
Sorted! Every time I have a longing, I run through the above and so far so good.
Have decided to make my resolutions weekly rather than daily so today I am:
- Vowing to run at the weekends again. I went on Sunday and remembered just what a boost it gives me;
- Giving up cake in the week. Tis a weekend treat only, now. Chocolate's still OK though - ha ha!
As for thanks, I am also restricting that to once a week, for fear of repetitiveness! This week, therefore, I am:
- Thankful for my aunt, who lifted my spirits at the weekend and reminded me that even if my mum and dad insist on behaving dreadfully, she will always be there for me and has agreed to be at my wedding;
- So glad that I have my job. It has its ups and downs but my colleagues are pretty decent folk all told and it keeps me sane whilst paying me well;
- Thankful that I am losing even more weight. More about that tomorrow!!!!
Friday, 15 May 2009
Big brother is soooo watching you!
If ever I need proof that I am doing the right thing, these photos, as featured in ‘The Daily Hate’ surely provide all the evidence one could need:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/maciejdakowicz/collections/72157616467357584/
I spent 3 years in Cardiff whilst at university and whilst these are the extremes, they are actually a perfect example of a drinking culture gone seriously wrong. As students, we would never have even taken a shortcut down St Mary Street on a Saturday night, as the Locals from the Valleys v Incomers warfare was so apparent. When I finished university, in the summer of ’97, I got a temporary job at national rail enquiries, as they have a huge call centre there. It soon became clear that the trains on a Saturday out of the Valleys towns were numerous at around 4/5pm. The ones back stopped at about 11pm. This gave them all a window in which to get absolutely smashed before heading back. And they used every single second of it…
Still, my behaviour, and that of my fellow students wasn’t much better, so please don’t read the above as sanctimony. We no doubt drank very similar quantities, but in the safety of the Union or a student friendly pub. 5-legged pub crawls, drink a yard of ale competitions and quite possibly some of the most wanton and destructive balls you could imagine. The Med School were banned from the City Hall after the one we attended terminated in a food fight.
I’m not proud, but I can’t turn back the clock so can only resign these images to history. Yes, I shall drag them up if ever I waiver but rather than thinking ‘sod it, that’s what everyone is like’ as I have no doubt done over the years, this time it will remind me that there are photos that could have once been taken of me that are equally embarrassing.
I do find it somewhat depressing now the internet and digital age are here, as they can document everyone’s moments of madness which wouldn’t have seen the light of day before. It’s as if you suddenly have no privacy to disgrace yourself (or impress for that matter) without fear of your neighbours/colleagues/friends and family being made aware. Facebook tagging has racked this up to another level. I was incensed recently to discover some less than flattering ones of me on a Belgian friend’s page. I use the word ‘friend’ loosely, however, as I haven’t seen him for about 8 years and only know him because he once dated a Dutch friend of mine. It simply got up my nose that these were flashing up on my true friend’s home pages as photos of moi. Sure, the best solution is not to accept Facebook friend requests from everyone, but in my ever-present ‘people-pleasing’ way, I accept anyone who is kind enough to ask – ha ha, that’ll teach me!!!!
I can moan all I like too, but I have probably googled/facebooked just about everyone I’ve met over the last 5-10 years and have spent many an afternoon with colleagues laughing at someone’s picture or illicit photos that we have uncovered. It’s therefore churlish of me to consider myself above that sort of thing. My disgraceful photos are safely hidden away at home, but I think I will dig them out this weekend for a trip down memory lane and to edit any that might just get into the wrong hands one day! That said, it won’t do much to eradicate the ones that my friends will have of me, so there is only so far I can go in erasing the evidence that I was once a good time girl of the utmost importance!! Anyway, enough ranting. It’s Friday, the weekend beckons and I am itching to get home.
Am not listing my thankfulness today because I am simply not in the mood. Yes, I can be petulant and teenage like the best of ‘em!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/maciejdakowicz/collections/72157616467357584/
I spent 3 years in Cardiff whilst at university and whilst these are the extremes, they are actually a perfect example of a drinking culture gone seriously wrong. As students, we would never have even taken a shortcut down St Mary Street on a Saturday night, as the Locals from the Valleys v Incomers warfare was so apparent. When I finished university, in the summer of ’97, I got a temporary job at national rail enquiries, as they have a huge call centre there. It soon became clear that the trains on a Saturday out of the Valleys towns were numerous at around 4/5pm. The ones back stopped at about 11pm. This gave them all a window in which to get absolutely smashed before heading back. And they used every single second of it…
Still, my behaviour, and that of my fellow students wasn’t much better, so please don’t read the above as sanctimony. We no doubt drank very similar quantities, but in the safety of the Union or a student friendly pub. 5-legged pub crawls, drink a yard of ale competitions and quite possibly some of the most wanton and destructive balls you could imagine. The Med School were banned from the City Hall after the one we attended terminated in a food fight.
I’m not proud, but I can’t turn back the clock so can only resign these images to history. Yes, I shall drag them up if ever I waiver but rather than thinking ‘sod it, that’s what everyone is like’ as I have no doubt done over the years, this time it will remind me that there are photos that could have once been taken of me that are equally embarrassing.
I do find it somewhat depressing now the internet and digital age are here, as they can document everyone’s moments of madness which wouldn’t have seen the light of day before. It’s as if you suddenly have no privacy to disgrace yourself (or impress for that matter) without fear of your neighbours/colleagues/friends and family being made aware. Facebook tagging has racked this up to another level. I was incensed recently to discover some less than flattering ones of me on a Belgian friend’s page. I use the word ‘friend’ loosely, however, as I haven’t seen him for about 8 years and only know him because he once dated a Dutch friend of mine. It simply got up my nose that these were flashing up on my true friend’s home pages as photos of moi. Sure, the best solution is not to accept Facebook friend requests from everyone, but in my ever-present ‘people-pleasing’ way, I accept anyone who is kind enough to ask – ha ha, that’ll teach me!!!!
I can moan all I like too, but I have probably googled/facebooked just about everyone I’ve met over the last 5-10 years and have spent many an afternoon with colleagues laughing at someone’s picture or illicit photos that we have uncovered. It’s therefore churlish of me to consider myself above that sort of thing. My disgraceful photos are safely hidden away at home, but I think I will dig them out this weekend for a trip down memory lane and to edit any that might just get into the wrong hands one day! That said, it won’t do much to eradicate the ones that my friends will have of me, so there is only so far I can go in erasing the evidence that I was once a good time girl of the utmost importance!! Anyway, enough ranting. It’s Friday, the weekend beckons and I am itching to get home.
Am not listing my thankfulness today because I am simply not in the mood. Yes, I can be petulant and teenage like the best of ‘em!
Thursday, 14 May 2009
If only I had a punchbag!
I’m angry today. Grrrrrr! I woke up angry and carried it on through my commute and it was my response to every email on my blackberry as I came in. Anger, irritation and annoyance.
I was annoyed by the man next to me who thought his elbow deserved it’s own seat. The woman, and above all her child, behind me who, beside kicking the back of my seat all the way in, screeched unintelligibly for the best part of the 25 minute journey. I’m angry still from something that happened yesterday and it’s clear to me that when that rage starts burning in me, it doesn’t fizzle out anytime soon!
What got me in this state was the excuse of an apology that I received yesterday from the colleague who had been illegally accessing mine and a partner’s email. Not only was it sloppy and dismissive but it insulted our intelligence. The ensuing telephone conversation between my boss and his new boss sent my blood pressure soaring sky high. I am incensed that someone with no axe to grind towards me can behave so disrespectfully. I hate to sound as if I am posturing from up on some moral high ground, but whilst I have made mistakes and done stuff that I am not proud of over the years, I can not imagine having been caught doing something so underhand at his level and continuing to deny any wrongdoing. The partner involved is also furious. We both started the day with that fire in our belly that only comes from being slighted or hurt without reason.
When I got home last night my beloved had bought me a present that day, just cos he fancied it. It was terribly sweet and did calm me down quite a bit, although I was probably pent up for most of the evening. Being the kind of guy he is (i.e. tactful!!) he had bought me some Calvin Klein pyjamas in small. For those who don’t know, that means miniature and child sized and no-one larger than a size 6 would look halfway decent! Bless him as he had told the sales assistant I was small and cute (well I am 5ft2 to his 6ft so in his eyes I am!) and she had not realised I am a short-arse with a comfy size 12 body! Anyway, maybe if I stomp through St James’ Park to exchange them at lunch today, I will get some of my frustration out.
I don’t like being angry. I hate the look in my eyes and the tense stance I adopt when I am. I hate being so damn upset and being poor company as a result. I hate letting someone make me think such nasty thoughts, but at least thinking isn’t enacting as the only one to come out well from me castrating him, would be humanity who would be spared any of his offspring! But above all, every time I get angry, the family stuff starts to bug me again. I dreamt about it last night and it came into my thoughts a lot this morning. I am so hurt and aggrieved that my family have turned against me that any semblance of similar behaviour brings it all flooding back. My acupuncturist works with me to think happy and positive thoughts, which help relax and de-stress me. Seeing myself as I am today I can truly understand now how much benefit I get from it. There is no cure for anger – it’s a human emotion and I might control it but I can’t prevent it. What I need is somewhere to channel it that will do good, not harm. Hmmm, watch this space.
But you know what, in spite of all that I am still thankful for:
· The fact I do have beliefs and want to uphold them. I know that I am not always right, but it is reassuring that I want to try and do the right thing more than anything else and whilst I am human and will fail, I don’t have the morals of an alley cat;
· My pyjamas! Hey, someone loves me enough to go out and buy a pressie and solicit advice from an assistant so as to make me happy. That’s definitely worth treasuring.
· Being sober. Above all, anger was an emotion I exploited to the max in terms of opening up a bottle. Yes, I drank when I was happy but always with a sense of guilt like I knew I was overindulging and could have chosen not to. Being angry justified sinking as much alcohol as possible whilst reassuring myself that this was a time when I could and would. Not last night and I hope not any more.
I was annoyed by the man next to me who thought his elbow deserved it’s own seat. The woman, and above all her child, behind me who, beside kicking the back of my seat all the way in, screeched unintelligibly for the best part of the 25 minute journey. I’m angry still from something that happened yesterday and it’s clear to me that when that rage starts burning in me, it doesn’t fizzle out anytime soon!
What got me in this state was the excuse of an apology that I received yesterday from the colleague who had been illegally accessing mine and a partner’s email. Not only was it sloppy and dismissive but it insulted our intelligence. The ensuing telephone conversation between my boss and his new boss sent my blood pressure soaring sky high. I am incensed that someone with no axe to grind towards me can behave so disrespectfully. I hate to sound as if I am posturing from up on some moral high ground, but whilst I have made mistakes and done stuff that I am not proud of over the years, I can not imagine having been caught doing something so underhand at his level and continuing to deny any wrongdoing. The partner involved is also furious. We both started the day with that fire in our belly that only comes from being slighted or hurt without reason.
When I got home last night my beloved had bought me a present that day, just cos he fancied it. It was terribly sweet and did calm me down quite a bit, although I was probably pent up for most of the evening. Being the kind of guy he is (i.e. tactful!!) he had bought me some Calvin Klein pyjamas in small. For those who don’t know, that means miniature and child sized and no-one larger than a size 6 would look halfway decent! Bless him as he had told the sales assistant I was small and cute (well I am 5ft2 to his 6ft so in his eyes I am!) and she had not realised I am a short-arse with a comfy size 12 body! Anyway, maybe if I stomp through St James’ Park to exchange them at lunch today, I will get some of my frustration out.
I don’t like being angry. I hate the look in my eyes and the tense stance I adopt when I am. I hate being so damn upset and being poor company as a result. I hate letting someone make me think such nasty thoughts, but at least thinking isn’t enacting as the only one to come out well from me castrating him, would be humanity who would be spared any of his offspring! But above all, every time I get angry, the family stuff starts to bug me again. I dreamt about it last night and it came into my thoughts a lot this morning. I am so hurt and aggrieved that my family have turned against me that any semblance of similar behaviour brings it all flooding back. My acupuncturist works with me to think happy and positive thoughts, which help relax and de-stress me. Seeing myself as I am today I can truly understand now how much benefit I get from it. There is no cure for anger – it’s a human emotion and I might control it but I can’t prevent it. What I need is somewhere to channel it that will do good, not harm. Hmmm, watch this space.
But you know what, in spite of all that I am still thankful for:
· The fact I do have beliefs and want to uphold them. I know that I am not always right, but it is reassuring that I want to try and do the right thing more than anything else and whilst I am human and will fail, I don’t have the morals of an alley cat;
· My pyjamas! Hey, someone loves me enough to go out and buy a pressie and solicit advice from an assistant so as to make me happy. That’s definitely worth treasuring.
· Being sober. Above all, anger was an emotion I exploited to the max in terms of opening up a bottle. Yes, I drank when I was happy but always with a sense of guilt like I knew I was overindulging and could have chosen not to. Being angry justified sinking as much alcohol as possible whilst reassuring myself that this was a time when I could and would. Not last night and I hope not any more.
Wednesday, 13 May 2009
Grey old Wednesday!
Had dinner last night with my friend C, who was looking amazing after 5 months on a healthy eating and exercise plan. It’s strange when you haven’t seen someone for so long (both our diaries had been a nightmare since Xmas) and you get to see the visible results of being good and doing the right things for a considerable amount of time. She is being featured in The Sunday Telegraph magazine for her efforts (who are sponsoring her personal trainer etc) so I got the low down on the 'smoke and mirrors' that are employed by the media to produce the magazine stories. Fascinating. In spite of my many years crawling around in the underbelly of the media myself, I am still amazed when I hear about the reality of it all.
I walked back from Bank station through the City at about 9.30 and really appreciated my surroundings. There is a slightly ghostly feel you get between Bank and Monument, when the ‘suits’ have gone home and the businesses are shutting down for the day. Plus, nothing beats the view down the Thames at night as you cross London Bridge and look left to HMS Belfast and right towards the London Eye. It’s the scale of the buildings that always impresses, and the ant-like quality of the folk walking alongside. I felt truly appreciative that I was happy and sober after a lovely evening chatting with a friend and that the vista was so impressive.
Has been a busy day at work and I have started to get the ‘buzz’ back that had died since the credit crunch truly manifested itself. I much prefer to be busy, as the day goes so much quicker, and I have the feeling that I have done something worthwhile with my time at the end of it.
So today I am thankful that:
· I live in London and have done so very happily for nearly 12 years. Much as I can not wait to get to Rye for our wee sojourns, and definitely picture myself there permanently in time to come, the energy of London can not be matched and sometimes it’s a thrill to feel it;
· I am in a loving and supportive relationship. Some days just a few words with my beloved at lunch can raise my spirits and make me smile, and it’s the moments like that which I treasure more so than the special events;
· My head feels less fuzzy than ever! Clarity has come back to me slowly, but as it starts to take hold I am all the more appreciative of what this actually involves. Experiences and interaction with others feel so much more rewarding when hard edges aren’t softened by an alcoholic haze. I am more aware than ever that the last 20 years will always be somewhat less crystal clear than they could have been, had I been sober over that period, but I have no intention of dwelling on that. What went before should not be lamented forever.
I walked back from Bank station through the City at about 9.30 and really appreciated my surroundings. There is a slightly ghostly feel you get between Bank and Monument, when the ‘suits’ have gone home and the businesses are shutting down for the day. Plus, nothing beats the view down the Thames at night as you cross London Bridge and look left to HMS Belfast and right towards the London Eye. It’s the scale of the buildings that always impresses, and the ant-like quality of the folk walking alongside. I felt truly appreciative that I was happy and sober after a lovely evening chatting with a friend and that the vista was so impressive.
Has been a busy day at work and I have started to get the ‘buzz’ back that had died since the credit crunch truly manifested itself. I much prefer to be busy, as the day goes so much quicker, and I have the feeling that I have done something worthwhile with my time at the end of it.
So today I am thankful that:
· I live in London and have done so very happily for nearly 12 years. Much as I can not wait to get to Rye for our wee sojourns, and definitely picture myself there permanently in time to come, the energy of London can not be matched and sometimes it’s a thrill to feel it;
· I am in a loving and supportive relationship. Some days just a few words with my beloved at lunch can raise my spirits and make me smile, and it’s the moments like that which I treasure more so than the special events;
· My head feels less fuzzy than ever! Clarity has come back to me slowly, but as it starts to take hold I am all the more appreciative of what this actually involves. Experiences and interaction with others feel so much more rewarding when hard edges aren’t softened by an alcoholic haze. I am more aware than ever that the last 20 years will always be somewhat less crystal clear than they could have been, had I been sober over that period, but I have no intention of dwelling on that. What went before should not be lamented forever.
Tuesday, 12 May 2009
Happiness...the greatest gift
Was musing on the subject of what makes me happy on the way to work today. I am convinced that most of my self-esteem issue comes from feeling like a round peg in a square hole a lot of the time. I suspect it’s all part of the pigeon-holing that goes on in infancy, by parents, their friends and family and school teachers.
I was always the good child. The one who did as she was told, excelled academically and wasn’t in the least bit sporty, spending her life with her nose in a book. I had few friends as I was seen by many as the teacher’s pet. I was expected all along to go to university and do something major with my life and was encouraged to go way outside my comfort zone in all areas as much as possible. Spending so long in that place has made me what I am today, and therefore constantly searching for a sense of peace and calm.
It’s one thing to push the boundaries and challenge yourself in order to be fulfilled and develop; it’s another to spend time doing things and with people in whom you have no interest or desire. By the same token, it’s also easy to think you know what interests you/what you want to do, by virtue of comparison with others and you can so easily reject someone or something that is attractive as it’s either an unknown quantity or not what is considered to be within your range.
Examples? Being so bored at soirees, gatherings and parties that all I am concerned with is what time I can make my excuses and leave. Visiting people for weekends and spending long stretches wishing I was anywhere else but there. It’s not universal, nor omnipresent, but that feeling of having to be somewhere and with certain people and having no say in the matter has been consistent since adolescence. As part of the ‘good girl’ act I trailed along to places and met up with people of my parents’ choosing – suffering whatever pain that incurred and smiling sweetly throughout. It’s fair to say that my brother did not do the same. He exercised his right as an individual to pick and choose what he did/didn’t want to do. Plus everyone respected that because he was ‘the cheeky one, who knew his own mind, who would much rather be kicking a football then being bored indoors’. Get out of Jail Free card to him but I never even thought to apply for mine as it was a given that I wouldn’t get it.
Xmas is marked in my mind as eternally tiresome. Last December I didn’t go home for the first time ever. My parents had stopped speaking to me in early December so the decision was made for me. The ensuing festivities were with K’s family and, whilst they weren’t story book perfect, they were very relaxed and comfortable. I definitely didn’t miss making polite small talk with my parents’ friends and neighbours one iota. I didn’t miss the annual booze and food fest which always culminated (at some point or other) in a huge family fight with my mum accusing me of being fat after spending 3-4 days stuffing me senseless (I always felt like the turkey that never got sacrificed!!) I didn’t miss being bored and under stimulated waiting for the days to pass until I could get back to London and the peace and sanctuary of my own flat; all the time spent with a look of pleasure splattered right across my face, lest someone think I wasn’t happy and challenge me about it.
So if I know what I’m not, I need to find out what I am. Not a job for the faint-hearted nor one that I expect to complete any time soon. The journey starts here, though.
On to confession time. Nope, didn’t have a drink last night but I did fail to implement a resolution. Yep, didn’t do any weights. And do you know what? I am not going to get upset about it. C’est la vie and all that. I did walk in today, brush my teeth last night, avoid sweet stuff etc, so what’s the harm in omitting to lift a couple of dumbbells? None whatsoever. K had run a bath for me when I got in and by the time I’d had that, had a cup of tea and downloaded my day with him, it was time to cook dinner. I never even remembered until on my way to work today, so am making today’s exchanges as follows:
- Taking up not doing weights unless I feel like it! Ha ha ha.
- Giving up beating myself up! Not on the sobriety issue as that’s non-negotiable but on the other small stuff that makes me imperfect. I shall endeavour to keep my new vows as much as possible, but not at the expense of spontaneity (i.e. I spontaneously chose to spend yesterday eve on the sofa with my beloved rather than lifting weights!!!!)
Today I am very thankful for:
- My Spanish friend Noelia who sent me an adorable belated birthday e-card with a photo of her kiddies. It’s just tooo cute for words.
- Mobile phone reception being crap! If it hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have had to step in to my bosses’ wife’s shoes and do a phone bid for their dining room table with Bonhams! It’s such fun to spend someone else’s money with wild abandon (well, I had a final amount but it was nice and high!).
- Having had another first class night’s sleep! Have been sleeping like a baby of late, and feeling so much more re-energised by the morning. K suffers dreadfully from insomnia, so I can not underestimate the value of a quality night’s rest.
I was always the good child. The one who did as she was told, excelled academically and wasn’t in the least bit sporty, spending her life with her nose in a book. I had few friends as I was seen by many as the teacher’s pet. I was expected all along to go to university and do something major with my life and was encouraged to go way outside my comfort zone in all areas as much as possible. Spending so long in that place has made me what I am today, and therefore constantly searching for a sense of peace and calm.
It’s one thing to push the boundaries and challenge yourself in order to be fulfilled and develop; it’s another to spend time doing things and with people in whom you have no interest or desire. By the same token, it’s also easy to think you know what interests you/what you want to do, by virtue of comparison with others and you can so easily reject someone or something that is attractive as it’s either an unknown quantity or not what is considered to be within your range.
Examples? Being so bored at soirees, gatherings and parties that all I am concerned with is what time I can make my excuses and leave. Visiting people for weekends and spending long stretches wishing I was anywhere else but there. It’s not universal, nor omnipresent, but that feeling of having to be somewhere and with certain people and having no say in the matter has been consistent since adolescence. As part of the ‘good girl’ act I trailed along to places and met up with people of my parents’ choosing – suffering whatever pain that incurred and smiling sweetly throughout. It’s fair to say that my brother did not do the same. He exercised his right as an individual to pick and choose what he did/didn’t want to do. Plus everyone respected that because he was ‘the cheeky one, who knew his own mind, who would much rather be kicking a football then being bored indoors’. Get out of Jail Free card to him but I never even thought to apply for mine as it was a given that I wouldn’t get it.
Xmas is marked in my mind as eternally tiresome. Last December I didn’t go home for the first time ever. My parents had stopped speaking to me in early December so the decision was made for me. The ensuing festivities were with K’s family and, whilst they weren’t story book perfect, they were very relaxed and comfortable. I definitely didn’t miss making polite small talk with my parents’ friends and neighbours one iota. I didn’t miss the annual booze and food fest which always culminated (at some point or other) in a huge family fight with my mum accusing me of being fat after spending 3-4 days stuffing me senseless (I always felt like the turkey that never got sacrificed!!) I didn’t miss being bored and under stimulated waiting for the days to pass until I could get back to London and the peace and sanctuary of my own flat; all the time spent with a look of pleasure splattered right across my face, lest someone think I wasn’t happy and challenge me about it.
So if I know what I’m not, I need to find out what I am. Not a job for the faint-hearted nor one that I expect to complete any time soon. The journey starts here, though.
On to confession time. Nope, didn’t have a drink last night but I did fail to implement a resolution. Yep, didn’t do any weights. And do you know what? I am not going to get upset about it. C’est la vie and all that. I did walk in today, brush my teeth last night, avoid sweet stuff etc, so what’s the harm in omitting to lift a couple of dumbbells? None whatsoever. K had run a bath for me when I got in and by the time I’d had that, had a cup of tea and downloaded my day with him, it was time to cook dinner. I never even remembered until on my way to work today, so am making today’s exchanges as follows:
- Taking up not doing weights unless I feel like it! Ha ha ha.
- Giving up beating myself up! Not on the sobriety issue as that’s non-negotiable but on the other small stuff that makes me imperfect. I shall endeavour to keep my new vows as much as possible, but not at the expense of spontaneity (i.e. I spontaneously chose to spend yesterday eve on the sofa with my beloved rather than lifting weights!!!!)
Today I am very thankful for:
- My Spanish friend Noelia who sent me an adorable belated birthday e-card with a photo of her kiddies. It’s just tooo cute for words.
- Mobile phone reception being crap! If it hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have had to step in to my bosses’ wife’s shoes and do a phone bid for their dining room table with Bonhams! It’s such fun to spend someone else’s money with wild abandon (well, I had a final amount but it was nice and high!).
- Having had another first class night’s sleep! Have been sleeping like a baby of late, and feeling so much more re-energised by the morning. K suffers dreadfully from insomnia, so I can not underestimate the value of a quality night’s rest.
Monday, 11 May 2009
not MANIC at all MONDAY
Lovely, peaceful weekend. Feel very calm and zen today after a few days doing…as little as possible. It’s anathema to me to be such a sloth. That said, it did me the world of good. Plus by being a sloth, I may well not fit into everyone’s example of that (I own one, by the way. Well, sponsor one at London Zoo – ha ha! My friend A bought me one for a year as an engagement pressie, as I told her how I had fallen in love with one on a visit. So sweet).
I met K on Friday eve after work to buy classical CDs on the Southbank and have Japanese for dinner in our favourite wee place in Waterloo. It’s a no-frills sushi and noodle restaurant; excellent value and not in the least bit pretentious. By the end I was feeling really wiped, as if I were coming down with the cold that a colleague had been nursing all day. When we got home, all I could do was curl up on the sofa with the Evening Standard, and was in bed by 10.30. I woke Saturday, however, feeling absolutely fine - a bit whacked, but no sign of the sniffles. K headed off to Camden to do what he calls his circuit – record and CD shops, army surplus stores, books etc and I resisted his terribly kind invitation to join him – ha ha! Instead I wandered over to Canary Wharf at my leisure and meandered all round there before doing a big Waitrose shop. The Wharf is perfect on a weekend – empty of all the ‘suits’ that clog it up in the week, but with some lovely and extremely quiet shops where I can happily while away a few hours with a coffee to break it up.
I did us dinner in the eve (spatch-cocked poussin, I’ll have you know!) and it was another very relaxing one, with an equally early bedtime! On Sunday K and I rolled out of our pit around lunchtime and then he came to help me do the boring weekly shop (you know the score washing up liquid, loo roll and other staples) at Sainsburys. I liked the joke I saw the other week that Sainsburys exists so that Waitrose remains posh as I frequent both in equal measure – ha ha. Anyway, spent the rest of the afternoon on sofa with papers and other than a bit of ironing, that was that.
As for missing the drink, well so far (fingers crossed it lasts) that seems to be far easier than I’d banked on. I honestly can’t think of a moment when I really have wanted one over the last few weeks. I’ve thought about it, inevitably given I am writing a blog on the subject, but have been more surprised that I’ve had no real cravings. I’ve just finished a book (Beat the Booze – highly recommend it) and that has helped me consider each day why I am dry and the benefits. I am planning (best laid plans and all that, we shall see tomorrow!) to go to something called a Life Club tomorrow http://www.lifeclubs.co.uk/ which I hope will help me shape the challenge and give me a whole new set of ideas and inspiration. My friend C is meant to be joining me, so if she still fancies it, I’m gung ho. I am convinced that the key to my success is thinking of and implementing, 101 things other than the no booze rule. I have become quite obsessed with beauty routines (yep, drink gives you wrinkles, dehydrates the skin, is a factor in broken blood vessels and so on), am starting now to focus on diet and my five a day and am gonna tackle exercise in earnest next week. Along with seeing friends and domestic chores, there hasn’t been time to either sit and drink nor dwell on not being able to. Even poor K is having to submit to my new-found interests and is bawled at of a morning if he doesn’t moisturise!
Am taking weekends off my give up/take up exchange, as it’s important that I spend them just being, so to speak. If I spent every day giving myself grief for what I haven’t done up until now, I’d really start to hate myself. I think the key is to remember that whilst I have a lot of things to improve upon, I’m starting from a fairly solid base. If I can’t take 2 days off to simply keep up what I have been practising that week, then I will start to resent the point of the whole exercise, I think.
So today I am:
· Taking up weights again. I spent a while being dutiful and doing them every day when I was training for the 3 peaks. I’m gonna start gently and do an exercise a day, adding them in as I get fitter, but the first stage is to actually start doing a few at least every day.
· Giving up anything sweet bar top quality black chocolate!! Over the weekend I found a million and one ways to bypass the no biscuit (flapjack anyone!) and sweets (chocolate mini rolls are cakes aren’t they!!) rules. It seems the better thing to do is decide what I can have in the way of treats and the rest remains off limits. Ha ha. So plain black chocolate (flavoured if I must!!) is the one and only thing. Everything else is banned, bloody well banned.
As for being thankful, I am so far:
· Thankful that K has been promoted. He found out today that he becomes MD of a company later this week and I am so chuffed for him. He’s had a hard time finding a role to suit him since he overcame his illness, so to see him happy and progressing means more to me that I can possibly say.
· Thankful for a very peaceful office! One colleague is in Paris, another is off sick and 2 partners are at a BD meeting, giving me plenty of me-time today. Heaven!!!
· Thankful for having my pal S back from her hols. We lunch every week so I missed her last week whilst she sunned herself in Madeira. You never know how much something matters until it aint there, so am very chuffed we will be having our catch up on Thursday. Bring it on!
I met K on Friday eve after work to buy classical CDs on the Southbank and have Japanese for dinner in our favourite wee place in Waterloo. It’s a no-frills sushi and noodle restaurant; excellent value and not in the least bit pretentious. By the end I was feeling really wiped, as if I were coming down with the cold that a colleague had been nursing all day. When we got home, all I could do was curl up on the sofa with the Evening Standard, and was in bed by 10.30. I woke Saturday, however, feeling absolutely fine - a bit whacked, but no sign of the sniffles. K headed off to Camden to do what he calls his circuit – record and CD shops, army surplus stores, books etc and I resisted his terribly kind invitation to join him – ha ha! Instead I wandered over to Canary Wharf at my leisure and meandered all round there before doing a big Waitrose shop. The Wharf is perfect on a weekend – empty of all the ‘suits’ that clog it up in the week, but with some lovely and extremely quiet shops where I can happily while away a few hours with a coffee to break it up.
I did us dinner in the eve (spatch-cocked poussin, I’ll have you know!) and it was another very relaxing one, with an equally early bedtime! On Sunday K and I rolled out of our pit around lunchtime and then he came to help me do the boring weekly shop (you know the score washing up liquid, loo roll and other staples) at Sainsburys. I liked the joke I saw the other week that Sainsburys exists so that Waitrose remains posh as I frequent both in equal measure – ha ha. Anyway, spent the rest of the afternoon on sofa with papers and other than a bit of ironing, that was that.
As for missing the drink, well so far (fingers crossed it lasts) that seems to be far easier than I’d banked on. I honestly can’t think of a moment when I really have wanted one over the last few weeks. I’ve thought about it, inevitably given I am writing a blog on the subject, but have been more surprised that I’ve had no real cravings. I’ve just finished a book (Beat the Booze – highly recommend it) and that has helped me consider each day why I am dry and the benefits. I am planning (best laid plans and all that, we shall see tomorrow!) to go to something called a Life Club tomorrow http://www.lifeclubs.co.uk/ which I hope will help me shape the challenge and give me a whole new set of ideas and inspiration. My friend C is meant to be joining me, so if she still fancies it, I’m gung ho. I am convinced that the key to my success is thinking of and implementing, 101 things other than the no booze rule. I have become quite obsessed with beauty routines (yep, drink gives you wrinkles, dehydrates the skin, is a factor in broken blood vessels and so on), am starting now to focus on diet and my five a day and am gonna tackle exercise in earnest next week. Along with seeing friends and domestic chores, there hasn’t been time to either sit and drink nor dwell on not being able to. Even poor K is having to submit to my new-found interests and is bawled at of a morning if he doesn’t moisturise!
Am taking weekends off my give up/take up exchange, as it’s important that I spend them just being, so to speak. If I spent every day giving myself grief for what I haven’t done up until now, I’d really start to hate myself. I think the key is to remember that whilst I have a lot of things to improve upon, I’m starting from a fairly solid base. If I can’t take 2 days off to simply keep up what I have been practising that week, then I will start to resent the point of the whole exercise, I think.
So today I am:
· Taking up weights again. I spent a while being dutiful and doing them every day when I was training for the 3 peaks. I’m gonna start gently and do an exercise a day, adding them in as I get fitter, but the first stage is to actually start doing a few at least every day.
· Giving up anything sweet bar top quality black chocolate!! Over the weekend I found a million and one ways to bypass the no biscuit (flapjack anyone!) and sweets (chocolate mini rolls are cakes aren’t they!!) rules. It seems the better thing to do is decide what I can have in the way of treats and the rest remains off limits. Ha ha. So plain black chocolate (flavoured if I must!!) is the one and only thing. Everything else is banned, bloody well banned.
As for being thankful, I am so far:
· Thankful that K has been promoted. He found out today that he becomes MD of a company later this week and I am so chuffed for him. He’s had a hard time finding a role to suit him since he overcame his illness, so to see him happy and progressing means more to me that I can possibly say.
· Thankful for a very peaceful office! One colleague is in Paris, another is off sick and 2 partners are at a BD meeting, giving me plenty of me-time today. Heaven!!!
· Thankful for having my pal S back from her hols. We lunch every week so I missed her last week whilst she sunned herself in Madeira. You never know how much something matters until it aint there, so am very chuffed we will be having our catch up on Thursday. Bring it on!
Friday, 8 May 2009
Reality check
I have no concept of the word moderation. It’s been revelatory searching my soul as part of this challenge and thinking back to when I first started consuming too much. I think that the last time I knowingly drank sensibly I was about, ooh, 11 years old, having my annual rum and coke on Xmas morning. Thereafter, I recall getting smashed for the first time at about 15 on red wine at a party and that was the start of that.
I gradually drank more as I went through my teens. What started out as one G&T with my mum on a Friday eve, soon became two or three, to keep her company. Then I’d have wine with my family on a Saturday and Sunday at dinner and always more than a few lagers whenever I went out. I wasn’t particularly encouraged by any one person – drinking was simply part of mine and my parents’ culture, and I took to it like a duck to water. My brother was much less bothered. He drank very little in his teens, preferring to drive places and work in a pub. He was happy making money behind the bar and although he drank more in his late ‘20’s, he is quite content to take it or leave it, even now.
One thing has definitely struck me though, about my motivation to drink as much as I could. It was all about keeping up with the lads. It was a badge of honour for me to be still standing after 5 pints, whilst lightweight males flaked around me. I enjoyed being recognised as a bird who could hold her drink (even if that wasn’t quite so true in reality) and was never satisfied unless I was competing to drink some man under a table - well, it was often a precursor to rolling into a bed with them, so who was I to argue!!. I thought it an achievement to outdo the guys and stopped at nothing to be seen as a ‘geezer bird’. At university I once downed a pint of milk to line my stomach for a £20 night – i.e. buy as much beer as you can with £20 and see how long you can make it last crawling round the pubs of Cardiff. The fact I hadn’t taken milk even at birth due to a lactose intolerance wasn’t going to stand in my way, so it was no surprise that I brought the milk back up before I even got out the door. I challenged many a French man (genetically lightweights) to drinking competitions on my years abroad. When I spent two years in a house share in Fulham, I was proud to be the only one still coherent after a birthday night out with my best male housemates.
Going out and having one glass of wine has always been unthinkable. Latterly I would always order a bottle on arrival at a pub/bar, regardless of the company, safe in the knowledge that it would be consumed (by me if no-one else). If I ever did drink moderately, I was either out with a teetotaller, work, or someone’s family who wouldn’t approve of excessive consumption. The relief on going home to my family or out with a big drinker was therefore palpable, as I knew the booze would never be rationed. Nothing made my heart sink more than the vision of a finite supply of wine. It would never occur to me to go to dinner at a friend’s house with less than 2 bottles of wine – one as a gift and one in case their stocks ran out early!
Actually owning up to all this to myself has left me feeling confused to say the least. When I started the blog, I was clear in my head that I hadn’t really got a problem. Ha!! Well that is one thing I can forget, as it’s pretty obvious when I plumb the depths that this is no exercise in temporary healthy living. The rot set in a long time ago and if I hadn’t stopped, it was surely only going to be a slippery slope on downwards. Anyway, enough self-flagellation and on to more positive matters such as my daily commitments. Today I have:
· Taken up brushing my teeth every night. Euch, yuck, urrgh I hear you cry. Yep, that’s right every night, not just when I remember or can be bothered. I had the dentist this week and he made it clear that I should be flossing more. I’m very lackadaisical about doing them nightly, although I never leave the house in the morning without a fresh mouth, so the only way to adopt good habits is to make the pledge;
· Given up sweets. Do you see a pattern here? The other day it was biscuits and so on. Ha ha. Other than the ginger ones I am sucking for my sore throat, I have to renounce all ‘K snacks’ as they are know in our house and resist, resist, resist the temptation when it is wafted in front of me! No more Percy Pigs or Jelly Babies or Fried Eggs or….the list is endless but the facts are simple. Nowt that resembles a fizzy, sugar laden confectionery. Not for me, no siree!
And as for thanks, well how about:
- I am thankful that I am losing weight down to the healthier me. Nothing to shout about just yet, but am definitely leaner and fitter than a few weeks ago. As I mentioned before, the incentive this time is to knock the booze on the head for mental reasons, but if it has health benefits too, then all the better.
- I am thankful that the sun is shining again. OK – small thing but hey, it lifted my mood!
- I am thankful that it’s Friday. Yay!!! Roll on weekend and a lovely relaxing one.
I gradually drank more as I went through my teens. What started out as one G&T with my mum on a Friday eve, soon became two or three, to keep her company. Then I’d have wine with my family on a Saturday and Sunday at dinner and always more than a few lagers whenever I went out. I wasn’t particularly encouraged by any one person – drinking was simply part of mine and my parents’ culture, and I took to it like a duck to water. My brother was much less bothered. He drank very little in his teens, preferring to drive places and work in a pub. He was happy making money behind the bar and although he drank more in his late ‘20’s, he is quite content to take it or leave it, even now.
One thing has definitely struck me though, about my motivation to drink as much as I could. It was all about keeping up with the lads. It was a badge of honour for me to be still standing after 5 pints, whilst lightweight males flaked around me. I enjoyed being recognised as a bird who could hold her drink (even if that wasn’t quite so true in reality) and was never satisfied unless I was competing to drink some man under a table - well, it was often a precursor to rolling into a bed with them, so who was I to argue!!. I thought it an achievement to outdo the guys and stopped at nothing to be seen as a ‘geezer bird’. At university I once downed a pint of milk to line my stomach for a £20 night – i.e. buy as much beer as you can with £20 and see how long you can make it last crawling round the pubs of Cardiff. The fact I hadn’t taken milk even at birth due to a lactose intolerance wasn’t going to stand in my way, so it was no surprise that I brought the milk back up before I even got out the door. I challenged many a French man (genetically lightweights) to drinking competitions on my years abroad. When I spent two years in a house share in Fulham, I was proud to be the only one still coherent after a birthday night out with my best male housemates.
Going out and having one glass of wine has always been unthinkable. Latterly I would always order a bottle on arrival at a pub/bar, regardless of the company, safe in the knowledge that it would be consumed (by me if no-one else). If I ever did drink moderately, I was either out with a teetotaller, work, or someone’s family who wouldn’t approve of excessive consumption. The relief on going home to my family or out with a big drinker was therefore palpable, as I knew the booze would never be rationed. Nothing made my heart sink more than the vision of a finite supply of wine. It would never occur to me to go to dinner at a friend’s house with less than 2 bottles of wine – one as a gift and one in case their stocks ran out early!
Actually owning up to all this to myself has left me feeling confused to say the least. When I started the blog, I was clear in my head that I hadn’t really got a problem. Ha!! Well that is one thing I can forget, as it’s pretty obvious when I plumb the depths that this is no exercise in temporary healthy living. The rot set in a long time ago and if I hadn’t stopped, it was surely only going to be a slippery slope on downwards. Anyway, enough self-flagellation and on to more positive matters such as my daily commitments. Today I have:
· Taken up brushing my teeth every night. Euch, yuck, urrgh I hear you cry. Yep, that’s right every night, not just when I remember or can be bothered. I had the dentist this week and he made it clear that I should be flossing more. I’m very lackadaisical about doing them nightly, although I never leave the house in the morning without a fresh mouth, so the only way to adopt good habits is to make the pledge;
· Given up sweets. Do you see a pattern here? The other day it was biscuits and so on. Ha ha. Other than the ginger ones I am sucking for my sore throat, I have to renounce all ‘K snacks’ as they are know in our house and resist, resist, resist the temptation when it is wafted in front of me! No more Percy Pigs or Jelly Babies or Fried Eggs or….the list is endless but the facts are simple. Nowt that resembles a fizzy, sugar laden confectionery. Not for me, no siree!
And as for thanks, well how about:
- I am thankful that I am losing weight down to the healthier me. Nothing to shout about just yet, but am definitely leaner and fitter than a few weeks ago. As I mentioned before, the incentive this time is to knock the booze on the head for mental reasons, but if it has health benefits too, then all the better.
- I am thankful that the sun is shining again. OK – small thing but hey, it lifted my mood!
- I am thankful that it’s Friday. Yay!!! Roll on weekend and a lovely relaxing one.
Thursday, 7 May 2009
Nearly the end of another week
Another day back at the grindstone but nothing too painful to report, thankfully.
Am sticking to my good/bad exchange, so today I can report that I:
- Took up walking in the mornings from Waterloo to the office;
- Gave up deferring tasks to another day.
The added time on my commute (as I already walked from Charing X) is a measly 15 minutes which equals 30mins extra exercise per day (if I also walk home in the eve) for very little effort. I’m a fast walker and can clear my head en route crossing the Thames. Sure, if it’s chucking it down with rain I won’t be a martyr, but if nothing impedes my journey, Waterloo it is for now.
As for deferring, I could have won an Olympic medal in putting off tomorrow what could be done today, if only someone would start that category! In some ways, this might come as a surprise to people who’ve worked with me, as I give all the outward appearances of a person who gets on with it without any fuss and doesn’t procrastinate much. That said, anything remotely tedious was added to an ever growing 'to do' list, which haunted me of a night and stressed me of a morning. Yet there’s absolutely no need. Even when I’ve been quiet I’ve been inclined to stick stuff to the bottom of the pile rather than simply grabbing the bull by the horns.
I am fed up hearing others telling me how busy they are, to such an extent that they can’t possibly spare a minute, even to reply to an email with a ‘can’t write now, but will do later’. It’s just courtesy after all, but in a city where being constantly on the go and never at your desk is an indication of how successful you are, it comes as no surprise that people compete to be seen as the busiest. Never mind that other bad habit, presenteeism, whereby being in the office for a massive amount of hours per week is viewed as productive. Let’s neglect to mention how much time most people fritter away on needless meetings, long senseless conference calls and their own personal stuff (internet surfing, emails to friends, office water-cooler style banter). If you broke most people’s jobs down into the work they need/ought to do, it would make up a fraction of their actual working day. Hanging out in an office is a sad way to prove you are wanted after all, but who am I to criticise? I could weep at the hours I have spent at work, simply because I felt a need to be there and be seen. You never want to be the first to put your coat on at the end of the day, nor the last to slope in every morning. Your ‘marker’ is your boss, so if you have an early bird, you need the precious time before they get there to prepare yourself. If they hang around at night you can find yourself caught up with stuff to do at 5.30/6.00 that could have been done much earlier in the day but which you now feel obliged to stick around for.
I know if I did what I needed to do every day as efficiently as possible, I’d sleep easier and feel quite content to leave on time, safe in the knowledge that everything needing done had indeed been completed. The ever-growing, never-ending 'to do' list is one of the things that keeps me here, as I can hardly head off when there is a thing or two that I could actually finalise. So today, I am leaving on time (ish! After all I need some time to write this!!) safe in the knowledge that my inbox is as empty as it can be and it feels refreshing. I’m actually all lightheaded at the thought – ha ha.
Today I am thankful for:
- My friends. I’ve been chuckling at texts and emails from some L’Oreal girls and realising how reassuring it is that there are decent, honourable, kind and funny people out there;
- My health. My colleague has had sick grandparents recently and I forget what a stress it must be when you have elderly relatives. K’s dad is none too clever right now, neither, which saddens me quite a bit. I know how much it stresses K out to see him like this and it only adds to the pressure on him. I can at least (touch wood etc) be thankful that I am spared that myself, though am only too aware it can change at the drop of a hat;
- The Sanctuary body cream, which smells heavenly and actually lifts my mood in the mornings now. Serenity in a pot!
Am sticking to my good/bad exchange, so today I can report that I:
- Took up walking in the mornings from Waterloo to the office;
- Gave up deferring tasks to another day.
The added time on my commute (as I already walked from Charing X) is a measly 15 minutes which equals 30mins extra exercise per day (if I also walk home in the eve) for very little effort. I’m a fast walker and can clear my head en route crossing the Thames. Sure, if it’s chucking it down with rain I won’t be a martyr, but if nothing impedes my journey, Waterloo it is for now.
As for deferring, I could have won an Olympic medal in putting off tomorrow what could be done today, if only someone would start that category! In some ways, this might come as a surprise to people who’ve worked with me, as I give all the outward appearances of a person who gets on with it without any fuss and doesn’t procrastinate much. That said, anything remotely tedious was added to an ever growing 'to do' list, which haunted me of a night and stressed me of a morning. Yet there’s absolutely no need. Even when I’ve been quiet I’ve been inclined to stick stuff to the bottom of the pile rather than simply grabbing the bull by the horns.
I am fed up hearing others telling me how busy they are, to such an extent that they can’t possibly spare a minute, even to reply to an email with a ‘can’t write now, but will do later’. It’s just courtesy after all, but in a city where being constantly on the go and never at your desk is an indication of how successful you are, it comes as no surprise that people compete to be seen as the busiest. Never mind that other bad habit, presenteeism, whereby being in the office for a massive amount of hours per week is viewed as productive. Let’s neglect to mention how much time most people fritter away on needless meetings, long senseless conference calls and their own personal stuff (internet surfing, emails to friends, office water-cooler style banter). If you broke most people’s jobs down into the work they need/ought to do, it would make up a fraction of their actual working day. Hanging out in an office is a sad way to prove you are wanted after all, but who am I to criticise? I could weep at the hours I have spent at work, simply because I felt a need to be there and be seen. You never want to be the first to put your coat on at the end of the day, nor the last to slope in every morning. Your ‘marker’ is your boss, so if you have an early bird, you need the precious time before they get there to prepare yourself. If they hang around at night you can find yourself caught up with stuff to do at 5.30/6.00 that could have been done much earlier in the day but which you now feel obliged to stick around for.
I know if I did what I needed to do every day as efficiently as possible, I’d sleep easier and feel quite content to leave on time, safe in the knowledge that everything needing done had indeed been completed. The ever-growing, never-ending 'to do' list is one of the things that keeps me here, as I can hardly head off when there is a thing or two that I could actually finalise. So today, I am leaving on time (ish! After all I need some time to write this!!) safe in the knowledge that my inbox is as empty as it can be and it feels refreshing. I’m actually all lightheaded at the thought – ha ha.
Today I am thankful for:
- My friends. I’ve been chuckling at texts and emails from some L’Oreal girls and realising how reassuring it is that there are decent, honourable, kind and funny people out there;
- My health. My colleague has had sick grandparents recently and I forget what a stress it must be when you have elderly relatives. K’s dad is none too clever right now, neither, which saddens me quite a bit. I know how much it stresses K out to see him like this and it only adds to the pressure on him. I can at least (touch wood etc) be thankful that I am spared that myself, though am only too aware it can change at the drop of a hat;
- The Sanctuary body cream, which smells heavenly and actually lifts my mood in the mornings now. Serenity in a pot!
Wednesday, 6 May 2009
Counting my blessings
Now I’m back at work, I realise how much I miss the blog as part of my way to stay on track. Twas only a longer than average weekend, but had so many thoughts running through my head that I kept thinking I must share that, or I wish I could write about that. Now I’m back, have realised that I’ve forgotten quite a bit, but at least this shows that the exercise is making me consider things carefully in many different ways.
I remained true to my word and stayed sober and had a lovely time. Friday was one of those eves when your face hurts at the end from laughing so much! We girls hadn’t been together since 2 of us left Cobra in January 2007, so there was a lot of catching up to be done. The food was divine (I grossed the others out ordering oysters followed by steak tartare) and the other 2 shared a bottle of red whilst I mainlined the sparkling water. I have invented a new trick whereby I make a note of the time I have to leave on a bit of paper before I go out. It’s a mental reminder and if I stick to it, I can be home and dry before the goodbyes get awkward. It’s no reflection on the company, but it’s a useful exercise in being disciplined.
I left them at 11.00 to get the last train home so they could go on somewhere for a nightcap without the chief party pooper! That said, it felt so good to have a genuine laugh without the wine and I was still smiling to myself on the way home. In addition, we had a frank and honest discussion about women and their habits. 3 professional females who, to all intents and purposes have no ‘issues’ so to speak of, confessed their weaknesses in light of my explaining the pledge I had taken. I shall spare you the detail but it only adds to my belief that I am far from alone and always only one step away from sinking back into my own quagmire of confusion.
On Saturday K and I went to a beautiful concert in Smith Square. Tchaikovsky and Brahms with an amazing pianist called Idil Biret. It was stunning and as we wandered back through Whitehall after the event, I felt a true sense of peace and calm. The effort from the orchestra (all amateurs and civil servants by day) the audience who (in many cases) had clearly turned out to support friends and family and the beauty of the venue was all memorable. Am already looking at the next ones in the schedule to book!
Sunday was girly shopping on the King’s Road with A. Perfect Sunday stuff and I didn’t notice the time pass. I even bought a summer dress and managed to make it not black! A lot of people have remarked that of late, my clothing has been gloomier then ever. I have always fallen back on black as a staple, but it could be considered a reflection of my mood, if I am forever shrouded in dark and voluminous fabric. I am now the proud owner of a multi-coloured dress in red and russets, which should lift my mood when I wear it. K was very impressed and has nominated A as my official shopping partner for her wise choices!
Monday was pottering as I had taken Tuesday off to do chores, though acupuncture was less of a chore and more of a precursor to my later appointment at the dentist! Not that I had anything to worry about, and my dentist made me laugh at the mention of me having needles stuck in me. He winced and said he could never do that (in spite of spending his every day injecting other folk. Priceless!)
Back to the grindstone today and yet more resolve. In addition to my 3 things to be thankful for, I am taking up a good habit and dropping a bad one every day. It’s like an exchange system, which stops me from doing what I’ve always done and going into ‘healthy living’ like a bat out of hell, only to exit it as fast when the time is up. Stealth is my new watchword!
Today I have:
- Taken up drinking 2 litres of water
- Given up biscuits!!
I have always been dehydrated since childhood (long story I think going back to my refusal to take milk at birth) and have no real sweet tooth, yet find myself dipping into K’s stash with alarming regularity. Until he invaded my space (in the nicest possible way!) with his sweet goodies, I was never tempted, but now that it is there I need to stay strong!!
As for my thanks, they are:
- The fact that it’s A’s birthday and she’s had a lovely day. That really matters to me as much as her;
- That my healthy lunch was delicious and good for me in equal measure;
- That I have a job! When I see/hear stories of all those who haven’t I am only too aware that, in spite of it’s drawbacks, it’s a blessing. Honest guv!
I remained true to my word and stayed sober and had a lovely time. Friday was one of those eves when your face hurts at the end from laughing so much! We girls hadn’t been together since 2 of us left Cobra in January 2007, so there was a lot of catching up to be done. The food was divine (I grossed the others out ordering oysters followed by steak tartare) and the other 2 shared a bottle of red whilst I mainlined the sparkling water. I have invented a new trick whereby I make a note of the time I have to leave on a bit of paper before I go out. It’s a mental reminder and if I stick to it, I can be home and dry before the goodbyes get awkward. It’s no reflection on the company, but it’s a useful exercise in being disciplined.
I left them at 11.00 to get the last train home so they could go on somewhere for a nightcap without the chief party pooper! That said, it felt so good to have a genuine laugh without the wine and I was still smiling to myself on the way home. In addition, we had a frank and honest discussion about women and their habits. 3 professional females who, to all intents and purposes have no ‘issues’ so to speak of, confessed their weaknesses in light of my explaining the pledge I had taken. I shall spare you the detail but it only adds to my belief that I am far from alone and always only one step away from sinking back into my own quagmire of confusion.
On Saturday K and I went to a beautiful concert in Smith Square. Tchaikovsky and Brahms with an amazing pianist called Idil Biret. It was stunning and as we wandered back through Whitehall after the event, I felt a true sense of peace and calm. The effort from the orchestra (all amateurs and civil servants by day) the audience who (in many cases) had clearly turned out to support friends and family and the beauty of the venue was all memorable. Am already looking at the next ones in the schedule to book!
Sunday was girly shopping on the King’s Road with A. Perfect Sunday stuff and I didn’t notice the time pass. I even bought a summer dress and managed to make it not black! A lot of people have remarked that of late, my clothing has been gloomier then ever. I have always fallen back on black as a staple, but it could be considered a reflection of my mood, if I am forever shrouded in dark and voluminous fabric. I am now the proud owner of a multi-coloured dress in red and russets, which should lift my mood when I wear it. K was very impressed and has nominated A as my official shopping partner for her wise choices!
Monday was pottering as I had taken Tuesday off to do chores, though acupuncture was less of a chore and more of a precursor to my later appointment at the dentist! Not that I had anything to worry about, and my dentist made me laugh at the mention of me having needles stuck in me. He winced and said he could never do that (in spite of spending his every day injecting other folk. Priceless!)
Back to the grindstone today and yet more resolve. In addition to my 3 things to be thankful for, I am taking up a good habit and dropping a bad one every day. It’s like an exchange system, which stops me from doing what I’ve always done and going into ‘healthy living’ like a bat out of hell, only to exit it as fast when the time is up. Stealth is my new watchword!
Today I have:
- Taken up drinking 2 litres of water
- Given up biscuits!!
I have always been dehydrated since childhood (long story I think going back to my refusal to take milk at birth) and have no real sweet tooth, yet find myself dipping into K’s stash with alarming regularity. Until he invaded my space (in the nicest possible way!) with his sweet goodies, I was never tempted, but now that it is there I need to stay strong!!
As for my thanks, they are:
- The fact that it’s A’s birthday and she’s had a lovely day. That really matters to me as much as her;
- That my healthy lunch was delicious and good for me in equal measure;
- That I have a job! When I see/hear stories of all those who haven’t I am only too aware that, in spite of it’s drawbacks, it’s a blessing. Honest guv!
Friday, 1 May 2009
Loooonng weekend
I've got a 4 day holiday coming up and I can not wait. Has been quite a busy week, all told, both work-wise and socially. Will be nice to relax with K and go to a classical concert tomorrow eve, a garden party on Sunday and then spend Monday with my friend A doing something civilised like afternoon tea or a gallery. I took Tuesday off too as I am planning to...ooh, get me and my exciting life...reseal the bath! Then I have an acupuncture appointment followed by the dentist. It's in my nature to try to do chores in a batch like that - I tend to spend ages procrastinating and making lists, then address them all at once. I wish I had the discipline to tackle things as and when they came up, but I spend my days organising other people's lives and am thoroughly bored by it come the evening/weekend!
That said, when I hear stories of my friend's household management (don't ya just love that phrase - so 1950s), I actually feel quite smug. My concertina files including wage slips dating back to my very first job are a thing of splendour in my eyes. When I read about lost bank accounts and forgotten pensions, it's all alien to me as I have everything neatly filed and backed up, with spreadsheets detailing where to find things etc. Ah - such a beauty to behold!
So in spite of caning it through my twenties and thirties, I have still managed to buy a flat of my own, maintain a highly efficient household, set up pensions and savings accounts and plan effectively ahead. It's certainly not stuff to beat myself up about or weep over, but it just doesn't register in my muddled old head. All I can see are the windows in need of a clean, part-opened post on the dining table and shoes discarded under the armchairs. I worry about whether or not I have paid the ground rent (all £12 of it) and won't be happy until I find said letter and send off a cheque. As ever, it's what I haven't done, don't do, can't do and won't do that preoccupies me. My achievements fail to show up on my radar whatsoever.
I have been thinking about doing one of those lists every day - you know, women's magazines are always recommending that you write down 3 things to be thankful for today. This might just help me to put it all into perspective so that I harness the good stuff and obssess less about the stuff that goes wrong. With a bit of luck I ought to settle the omnipresent notion in my head that I am a bad person.
So today I would like to thank:
1. K for meeting me for a coffee at lunch and offering to take me clothes shopping (at his expense I may add!) this weekend. How lucky am I to have a man who not only cares about my wardrobe but wants to see me in new and pretty summer dresses to match the sunny weather!
2. My boss for telling me I'm a good masseur. Ha ha ha ha!! In case any one gets the wrong idea, it was a shoulder massage, fully clothed with 3 other colleagues in attendance, but he remarked (as has K on a number of occasions) that I should do a course and take it up as a profession. He's even going to ask his regular masseur to recommend a course for me, so it's nice to hear that what I thought was a pipe dream (and it was one I had in mind) might be more realistic than I imagined.
3. The lad on the train this morning who got up to offer his seat to a pregnant woman who asked politely if anyone would. All the 'suits' stared at their feet, but this young lad in sweatshirt, jeans and work boots was more than happy to give his up. It sounds cheesy, but it gave me a warm glow and reminded me that the world is not full of scum, sometime good deeds are done by the people you expect it from the least and manners are not totally dead. Had I not also been deeply irritated by the smug and arrogant sods who didn't stand up for her, that would have been an even more special moment!
Right-ho. Am off to meet the Cobrettes now, my partners in crime from a brief period working at Cobra Beer (hmm, is it any surprise that I drink too much!!). We are having dinner at a lovely restaurant in Mayfair and I have made a pact with self to leave at 11.00 and be on the last train home. I don't even feel tempted to drink as am really looking forward to the excellent company, loads of gossip and some very good food.
That said, when I hear stories of my friend's household management (don't ya just love that phrase - so 1950s), I actually feel quite smug. My concertina files including wage slips dating back to my very first job are a thing of splendour in my eyes. When I read about lost bank accounts and forgotten pensions, it's all alien to me as I have everything neatly filed and backed up, with spreadsheets detailing where to find things etc. Ah - such a beauty to behold!
So in spite of caning it through my twenties and thirties, I have still managed to buy a flat of my own, maintain a highly efficient household, set up pensions and savings accounts and plan effectively ahead. It's certainly not stuff to beat myself up about or weep over, but it just doesn't register in my muddled old head. All I can see are the windows in need of a clean, part-opened post on the dining table and shoes discarded under the armchairs. I worry about whether or not I have paid the ground rent (all £12 of it) and won't be happy until I find said letter and send off a cheque. As ever, it's what I haven't done, don't do, can't do and won't do that preoccupies me. My achievements fail to show up on my radar whatsoever.
I have been thinking about doing one of those lists every day - you know, women's magazines are always recommending that you write down 3 things to be thankful for today. This might just help me to put it all into perspective so that I harness the good stuff and obssess less about the stuff that goes wrong. With a bit of luck I ought to settle the omnipresent notion in my head that I am a bad person.
So today I would like to thank:
1. K for meeting me for a coffee at lunch and offering to take me clothes shopping (at his expense I may add!) this weekend. How lucky am I to have a man who not only cares about my wardrobe but wants to see me in new and pretty summer dresses to match the sunny weather!
2. My boss for telling me I'm a good masseur. Ha ha ha ha!! In case any one gets the wrong idea, it was a shoulder massage, fully clothed with 3 other colleagues in attendance, but he remarked (as has K on a number of occasions) that I should do a course and take it up as a profession. He's even going to ask his regular masseur to recommend a course for me, so it's nice to hear that what I thought was a pipe dream (and it was one I had in mind) might be more realistic than I imagined.
3. The lad on the train this morning who got up to offer his seat to a pregnant woman who asked politely if anyone would. All the 'suits' stared at their feet, but this young lad in sweatshirt, jeans and work boots was more than happy to give his up. It sounds cheesy, but it gave me a warm glow and reminded me that the world is not full of scum, sometime good deeds are done by the people you expect it from the least and manners are not totally dead. Had I not also been deeply irritated by the smug and arrogant sods who didn't stand up for her, that would have been an even more special moment!
Right-ho. Am off to meet the Cobrettes now, my partners in crime from a brief period working at Cobra Beer (hmm, is it any surprise that I drink too much!!). We are having dinner at a lovely restaurant in Mayfair and I have made a pact with self to leave at 11.00 and be on the last train home. I don't even feel tempted to drink as am really looking forward to the excellent company, loads of gossip and some very good food.
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