(To see the blog about Domestic Abuse, Red Card it! My current campaign please Click at bottom Older Post)
My daughter Ashley is better; her swine-flu has finally left her body. I didn’t enjoy her swine-flu period, there were no surrealist paintings or amazing art work- it just made her grumpy, whiney and her hair grew five inches in depth as well as length during her bedroom internment. She looked like a big woolly snot ridden mammoth.
She emerged recently looking paler, thinner and was slightly alarmed that the world had still turned despite her having nothing to do with it for three weeks.
Ashley got up this morning and asked her dad if he could go get her a ‘Fat Toosh’ he thought it sounded sexual and hid behind the toilet door till she stopped speaking, turns out a fat toosh is actually a ‘fatoush’ which is toasted Lebanese bread with salad, the local take away had shoved a brochure through our letterbox. She also got Ian Rankin’s new graphic novel shoved through the letter box, she was excited and even danced a wee bit.
I on the other hand have been suffering some deep self loathing; I need to lose weight and its not happening fast enough. The non smoking is going great, but my will power falls flat when it comes to stopping eating fatty food. So my weekend at Jongleurs Bristol was dominated with cottage cheese and cold meat, as that was all I would allow myself to eat. Low calorie and minimum carbs was the call of the day.
I have realised that I am the same weight that I was the day I gave birth to Ashley! So I am now walking about carrying that big lump of weight around my body, I could hardly walk when I was fully pregnant with Ashley and now that’s the body fat I live with. I hate myself now.
The good news is I have lost half a stone since I started really hating myself. Maybe I will really hate myself enough to lose another three stones and then I will look slim but full of deep tortured self deprecating low self esteem and develop borderline suicidal tendencies. But fuck it, I will look good eh?
Husband is ill prepared for this recent mood swing and has been staring at me in the dark in bed whispering “Are you ok Janey?”
“Why do you think I am fat? Can you feel the bed dip at my end?” I snipped at him.
“I am scared” his voice was like a thin shadow veiled with fear.
“I am fine, when I get thinner I will be finer” I shouted and broke the hush.
Bless his wee soul, he thought it would cheer me up if he got up at 5am and danced and sang a song at the side of the bed…naked. He didn’t know it made me want to take a toffee hammer to his eye. Sometimes I don’t think he knows me at all.
I think I may be going through a mental mid life crisis._