Confession Time

purple flowersConfession time: a couple of weeks ago I decided to stop eating cakes, crisps, chocolates, biscuits and other sugar-rich foods until Easter Sunday (which was when I planned to pig-out of Easter eggs!). Well, that didn’t last. It was a couple of days before my brain caught up with itself and I realised I was doing that all-or-nothing thing again. So, since that revelation, I’ve turned my back on my turning my back on sugar and have tried to be more balanced in my approach to eating again. Yesterday, I didn’t eat any of the above. Today, I’ve eaten a big old lump of flapjack. It was probably too much in the way of calories, but that’s all right. No major damage done. I refuse to feel guilty about it.

I’m in the last month of the weighloss programme my GP referred me to, and although part of me wants to go out with a bang – i.e. a really big weightloss this month – the other part of me knows that what I’m trying to do isn’t just to make the numbers on the scale go down; it’s to find a way of eating that I can live with for the rest of my life. I’ve done really well numbers-wise; I’ve lost a third of the weight I need to lose to get down to a ‘healthy’ BMI, and I’ve done well with the self-control thing. There are days when I just say ‘No!’ I think the biggest success/change for me though has been that I am not obsessing about food and the eating of it, and if I do eat more than my recommended number of calories a day, I don’t feel I’ve blown anything; I don’t feel as if I’ve fallen off the wagon.

When I asked my GP for help with my eating/weight, I knew that the battle would have to be won in my brain, and I think it has been. All I need to do now is keep going. Fortunately, even though my support worker has to officially discharge me back to my GP at the end of this month, she has offered to keep seeing me and weighing me for as long as I need her to. I’m definitely going to take her up on that offer because she has been so helpful and understanding.

Nothing Ever Happens

del AmitriThe last time I saw del Amitri live was at the Bristol Hippodrome in 1997. Since then, a lot has changed in my life. I’d just graduated from university and was about to embark on a PhD. I’d yet to even decide to become a teacher. It was before Matt and I got married, before we had kids. In 1997 my dad was still alive, and I’d not been touched by either depression or anxiety. Fast forward 17 years, and all that stuff – the good and the bad – has happened, but seeing del Amitri last night was like finally taking the two ends of a piece of string and tying them into a knot, or placing the second bookend at the end of a very long line of books. The band was amazing. As good as I remember them. Their songs still spoke to my heart, still blew me away.

And Justin Currie still wears exceptionally tight trousers and does that funny little shuffle with his feet when he sings.

Perhaps nothing ever really happens because last night, the needle certainly returned to the start of the song, and I definitely sang along like before.