Sometimes I need a filter between my brain and my mouth.
This is not the way to get one.

Friday, 16 September 2011

Food, Glorious Food...

Except food's not glorious. Well, not at the moment, and not for me.

Food is a pain in my arse. Why? Because food is too freakin' hard, that's why.

I feel like my whole life revolves around food, and not in a good way. I feel like I spend all my time thinking about food - through deciding what to give the Toddler for breakfast, what to pack for lunch, what will I eat if I don't take lunch, what are we having for dinner, do I have to take anything out for dinner, do I have all the crap I need to make dinner etc etc etc.

I honestly wish we had a cook. Just a cook. I'd happily clean and cover all areas of domestic goddess-ness if I didn't have to think about food. Or cooking the food.

Besides, everything tastes better if someone else has gone to all the effort.

My GP tells me that I have to revisit my diet - that it's not good.  My blood tests came back a shambles, and apparently I have the vitamin D levels of a person who has never been outside. Ironic considering where we live, the number of times I've been sunburnt this year and the number of play dates that include swimming in unshaded pools.

I don't really see the issue with my diet - not eating breakfast, living on coffee, snacking all day and then going home to the easiest dinner available and then continuing to snack well into the night has done WONDERS for my waistline.

In fact, it's never been so big. Winning! Or not.

The mysterious thing is that the Toddler has the best diet in the world. I just can't seem to apply the same principles to myself. It all seems too hard if applied to me. For the Toddler, I'll do whatever I have to.

She has fruit and yoghurt for breakfast, a sandwich and fruit at lunch and dinner is either some pasta, or meat and veg or even a facy baked potato with yummy filling. She snacks on sultanas, blueberries, strawberries and rice crackers during the day. She always asks for water and that's what I give her. Sometimes she'll ask for cordial and I'll make her some.

It tastes like water...but it has a bit of colour to it, and that makes her happy.

The only difference is day care days where she gets more elaborate meals during the day because they have a COOK. I mean, they have all sorts of great lunches and snacks, all made from scratch and organic.

See what I mean, a cook can make life so much better!

The poor Guru ends up being served whatever I can be bothered scraping together for the adults of the house. Hence we are both sporting waistlines that aren't anything to be proud of.

His family regularly point this out to us. They are blunt about it. It pisses me off.

I know the reality - guess what, calling me fat to my face won't make me feel good enough about myself to change that fact, so how about you shut your pie-hole?

I just can't quite figure out when food became the enemy. I mean, I've never been small. The smallest I've ever been was a size 10, and that was when I was 17-18 years old and in the midst of a depressive episode. I stopped eating altogether, so naturally I shrunk.

When I have really bad days of hating myself, I wish I could go back to that dark place, just long enough to 'get skinny'. Ha. As if I have a control switch I can flick on and off to control my weight.

And that dark place isn't worth the weight loss.

I always felt good about myself when I was a size 12/14. Well, less critical anyway. Which, I believe, is the average size for an Australian woman, a healthy size and is an achievable goal.

Getting there is the challenge. But I have to do it.

We want to have another baby. And I want to be healthy and able to care for the family I have, and just feel good in my own skin again.

I have to get my shit together.

No if's, and's or but's. This is the way it is, and I am young and able enough to make the change.

I can do it.

And I'll do it for ME.


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