Monday, February 11, 2013

Quick update

Still going well, still rocking out on studies, still dreaming of April 24th, and have new super secret motivational device on the horizon, will tell more when I get ready to launch... :)

Friday, November 30, 2012

Bringing it back

Okay, so let me explain how the next few months will go. Till April, it's all about studying. Sure, I'll be trying to shoehorn in healthy living, but when you are waking at 3 am to get stuff done (and because nerves are killing you), health isn't huge. April 24th (after exams): Drink. Heavily. April 25th: Start detoxification program, followed by Weight Watchers for 12 weeks. HIT THE DAMN POOL. You have a gym membership, USE IT. Take baby for long walks. Breathe. Move house around to better facilitate success. Breathe.

Friday, May 04, 2012

A proud bit of proud

Since my Olympics dreams went kaput (boo!), I've had to look for other things to be proud about.  I think THIS totally counts.  It's the story of how I finished giving birth...15 months after my son was born.

Friday, April 20, 2012

It's a Small World After All...and you can't play in it.

This blog was started because I was accepted into the Closing Ceremonies as a performer for the London 2012 Olympics.  Joy all around.  A few weeks ago I received a letter from the Olympics reminding us of Home Office requirements, which stated that for non-EU nationals, all of their paperwork must be have an expiration date of at least November 8th.  Problem, as my marriage visa ends September, and while I will renew it in August, my paperwork would obviously show that it expired before November.  (WHY is it a November cutoff, when the damn games are done in August?  Who knows).  So I contact my team leader and explain that I'm married, with a kid and a mortgage and all that, I'm not some dodgy dodge person, can I squeak through?

Today I got the call.  I can't.  


I cannot apply for a ILR (the next level of visa) until 28 days before the one I have is due to expire.  I called the Home Office, they said the same thing.  So, yeah.  I'm out.

I will take one good thing from this shitty day - when you see those gorgeous dancers and jugglers and stilt walkers and people bouncing around, I want you to remember - my fat ass was supposed to be there.  I performed well enough to dance and shimmy and jazz handed my way next to them, and it is just through bureaucratic nonsense that I didn't get to be standing in that stadium. Sure, I may be watching it with the other 8000 people who applied and didn't get in, but I DID get in, and I can take comfort in that.

Cold comfort is still comfort.   


Thursday, April 19, 2012

The Right to Gripe, or when first world problems go wrong


So I belong to this online forum for women only (not Mumsnet, you all are lovely!), which is about 10% informative, 60% boring, and 30% car crash.  I stick around for the information, and car crashes.  Today's first world problem was a woman who has younger colleagues that complain about getting older.  She believes this is the height of rudeness.  Mind you, they aren't talking about her being older, they aren't even talking *to* her, she is simply overhearing their conversation and getting upset.  And of course, as it always seems to with women, the argument turned to weight, with much back and forth, resuming in what I can only say is the most jaw-dropping concept I have heard of in a long time:  If a skinny person complains about gaining weight within ear shot of a fat person, the skinny person is rude, and has no right to call themselves fat or whatever when they aren't, because it denigrates the fatty.  At the same time, a fat person can (kind of sort of) raise themselves up by pulling skinny people down (ie, Big is Beautiful!, which intimates that not big is not beautiful), then that's okay, because fat people don't have privilege in society, so they can get away with it.


First off, if a skinny person is talking about how fat they are when they drank a full fat latte and I happen to be in ear shot, several things happen.  Actually, one thing happens.  No, wait, I meant to say nothing happens.  Why?  Because:

They are talking about themselves, not me,
Their body image is their own, and has nothing to do with my body image,
I do not co-opt someone else's pain about their body, and
OMG who listens in on peoples' conversations and then has the gall to get upset about it?

That's Ridiculousness #1.  Ridiculousness #2 is when I think that I can get away with being bitchy about a skinny person, and then hide behind some invisible shield of 'But they are the privileged group, I'm just standing up for myself!' bullshit.  No, you're just trying to get away with something, Mean Girls style.  Cut it out.

Let me tell you a story: When I met my birthing group, they were all, pregnant, smaller than me when I was my regular weight. As they were complaining about puffing up and tight clothes, I could have thrown a strop and pointed out that they were still smaller than me, and were therefore inferring that I was super de duper gross if they were gross for having stretch marks and puffy ankles. But instead, I realized that behind everyone's eyes (skinny, fat, black, white, gay, straight, etc), are their own battles, and are on their own journeys, and appreciated that they were struggling right now, and tried to be a supportive friend. Our kids are a year now, and all of them are back to their gorgeous size 2 selves, and I am my lovely size 22 self, and we just appreciate each other for who we are.  And even if they ate a giant muffin and then complained about being sooooo fat, I honestly would not care, because THEIR BODY IMAGE ISSUES ARE NOT MINE.  I HAVE ENOUGH OF MY OWN, I DO NOT NEED TO CO-OPT ANYONE ELSE'S BULLSHIT.  As has been pointed out numerous times on this blog, my feelings and opinions about my body are my own. If you have so little to do that you have time in the day to be offended on my behalf, then I wish I had your leisure time, but I just don't care.  I also don't care about other peoples' journeys or thoughts on their own weight - it has nothing to do with me.  You may be a size 2, and think you are fat.  I don't care.  You may be a size 30, and think only Real Women Have Curves.  Don't care.  Doesn't concern me.  And how others perceive themselves shouldn't concern you personally, either.  Just get the fuck on with your life.