From Elizabeth King.
So, I’m back in the land of grapes following my holiday in Hawaii and I know I said I was going to start fresh and be committed, but… well… things haven’t gone exactly as planned.
There was all the unpacking, and washing, and grocery shopping because there was no food in the house when we got home. There was going back to work and seeing how much had backed up while I was away. There was sorting out my teenage son who was heading off to University for the first time this weekend and who, being a teenage boy, needed constant prompting to do anything. There was more grocery shopping because, well, teenage son! There was a specialist appointment to keep to get results on some recent surgery – all good and nothing to worry about, but still…
It was a stressful week. And what do I do when I’m stressed? I eat of course!!
I wish I was one of those people that stop eating when they’re stressed. Oh boy, do I wish that. I’d have faded away by now, instead of being as big as the proverbial house. But I’m not. And I never will be. It’s just not how I’m built.
However, one of the things I am going to be working on during this process is trying to adopt other coping techniques when I’m stressed. Going for a walk. Talking to a friend. Doing a yoga class. Anything that distracts me from eating.
For this week, at least, showing my photos from Hawaii to my parents over dinner last night reminded me of some of the more humiliating parts of the trip and that was enough to kick start my commitment again. Thankfully there are no photos of my various humiliations, but as the memories are burned into my brain their lack doesn’t change things.
I said I was going to open myself up to humiliation and ridicule here, so in that spirit I will share one of those memories.
We went snorkelling with manta rays – amazing, highly recommend it if you get the chance. What I don’t recommend is being the person they can’t find a wetsuit to fit! Imagine me sitting there while a young, attractive, very slender attendant hands out wetsuits to everyone else while eyeing me up and then hands me one that I have absolutely no doubt is not going to fit me. I’m then forced to do the wetsuit wiggle even though I know it’s pointless while she looks on smiling as if she’s solved the problems of the universe. Of course, the smile started to fade when I couldn’t even get the damn thing up my legs. She quickly moved me on to short wetsuits!! I’ll spare you all the embarrassing details – suffice to say that several suits later (including a change of gender for me) a certain attendant was looking downright grumpy but I finally had something that at least zipped up. I did have to fold the excess length of the sleeves back up almost to my elbows, but at this point I was willing to work with anything.
I won’t lie. I thought about just chucking the whole thing in and not going on the trip at all several times, but I didn’t want to be the only one in our family who didn’t get to go. And when people asked on our return how the manta ray trip had gone, imagine having to say I didn’t go because I was too fat for a wetsuit??!!
The good news is that even just writing this has reaffirmed my commitment to never be in that type of situation again. This is the start of a new me. Today is the start of a new week after all…