The Newbie Blogger

Obviously I'm a fairly recent convert to the Blogosphere, or as I like to label it - fashionably late.  I will never be accused of being a trendsetter, mainly because I'm clearly clueless about fashion, pretty things and collecting.  I've always been one to get there in my own time in my own way.  My sense of humour tends to run a little dark and I see the absurd where others don't.  So if you read a comment and think "You twat" please assume my twatness isn't intentional but a product of my twisted mind.

I will state up front that I don't get the Twilight obsession, I've read and re-read trying to see what I've missed but I just keep coming up empty.  Edward is more than a little controlling and pale and stringy should apply to mozarella not men and Jacob just makes me feel dirty, like an ageing flasher hanging outside a primary school.  So it probably wasn't a good idea for my girlfriends' to drag me along to the screening of New Moon.  Apparently it's not meant to be a comedy, go figure, because I found it pretty amusing, although judging from the filthies I received each time I giggled my SOH clearly wasn't appreciated.

Anyway back on to the garden path.  Being a blog virgin I'm not switched to Blog Ettiquette.  As I've been meandering through Blog Central I've found Blogs that challenged, educated or amused me and I've exercised my right to stalk follow.

Thanks mainly to the outstanding PR skills of Mrs Woog (can I just say that I do have a little crush) I appear to have attracted some delightful followers of my own and this is where my question of blog ettiquette comes into play.  What is the accepted when it comes to following, is there an unwritten expectation that you follow your followers and in effect become a giant daisy chain?  What about comments?  Are you expected to comment religiously or is it acceptable to comment when you actually have something to say?

As I've already posted I am more than a tad shy so posting a link to my blog when I comment is about as likely to happen as me having rampant afternoon sex with David Beckham.

I have noticed a few comments where there is a link to that individuals' blog.  Personally it isn't something I could do, but hey different strokes, so how do you feel about blatant self promotion in the comments section of your blog?  Are you going to read their blog or are you going to avoid it on principle?

Which brings me to my next question, is blogging a giant popularity contest?  Does size matter?  If you have a small or non existent following should  you hang your head in shame or do you just embrace the obviously discerning readership you've garnered and revel in your exclusivity?

So experienced bloggers tell me the dos and don'ts.  What would you tell all newbie bloggers starting out?

Acting Rather Than Thinking

So last night I'd decided on a course of action to get my groove thing back.  I had a plan and I needed to make it happen.

I should confess right now that I am the Queen of Procrastination, why do it now when it can sit perfectly content until later, of course this then results in me burning copious amounts of midnight oil to meet deadlines.  That along with genetics may explain why I pay massive amounts of money to my camouflage expert aka Hairdresser, stress will do it to you every time.

But in the spirit of onward and upward this morning I sucked all that terror (did I mention my extreme social phobia???) anyhoo I shrugged off the crippling paralysis and sent off an email to the Director of a Community Choir in the next suburb, no going back now and I've had a reply.  Not only did they not tell me to go far away but I've been invited to join them for their next rehearsal.

OMG let the obsessing begin

A plan is good but action is better.

The Essence of Happiness

Something the very wise Seraphim blogged today got me thinking.  Do we fall into the habit of unhappiness.  Is it easier to focus on the struggles than celebrate ourselves.

When I think back to my childhood I was blessed to have a joyful childhood.  It was carefree and allowed me to dream and believe and laugh with pure happiness.  Each day was an adventure.

How is it that as we grow we lose that joy.  We forget to embrace the little things that bring happiness.  We invest so much of ourselves in others, we becomes wives, partners, mothers, daughters, employees, we divide our inner self into so many different pieces that we lose our identity and without that core we become rudderless living to serve our many masters.

I believe that to break the cycle of addiction I need to be able to have those moments of joy.  To be a little selfish and instead of trying to use food to nourish my soul I need to find that passion that will provide the nourishment that I seek through food.

As a child I sang in a choir and a few times a year we used to go to the local Retirement Village and sing for them.  I vividly remember the faces of those men and women and the pleasure that we gave them just by taking the time to be there, present in their lives.  Singing allows me to give my emotions a voice.

Tomorrow morning I'm going to make a phone call and I'm going to give my inner self a voice again.

Totally OT

This post has absolutely nothing about weight, fat, or anything physical.  This is a screaming vent about the total mind fucks our learned health professionals can be.

Seriously if I screwed people around as much as GPs, Specialists and ancilliary support staff do I would be out of a job.  Not only do these people get to piss me around, stress me out and generally have me reaching for whatever alcohol is closest I then get to pay exorbitant amounts of money for the privilege.  I know HECS debt is crippling but honestly is anyone really worth that hourly rate?

For what some of these Drs are charging you could book an hour with a high end call girl and at least then you could get an orgasm out of it but no you pay this massive amount of money to get screwed with no pleasure whatsoever.

It's like the Marquis de Sade society for torture.  Every time you get one step further along they throw another curve ball at you because you don't know what the secret handshake is.

I really have a giant urge to self medicate so any lo cal alcohol suggestions will be greatly appreciated.


AAAAARRRRRRRGH

The Hidden Peril

(Disclaimer: This post will not reference, magical lolly fountain, personalised gift bags or themed splendour)

Apologies for my silence but this weekend was a biggie - the dreaded childrens birthday party.  Now over the years I've hosted more than my fair share of birthday parties, in fact I'm sure that my alcohol intake rose sharply in 1999 due to a memorable 5th birthday party, anyway I digress.  So this weekend we had another birthday party and fact # 1 is that we don't do party food for the children, why bother - they don't eat it anyway.  We do party food for the other parents, all that competitve motherhood rolled up into one neat little parcel.  The downside of party food is that because the kids don't eat it means mountains of leftover and more parental grazing than the savannahs of Africa.

Having a defective craft gene means that anything artistic or craft is totally beyond me.  My idea of colour co-ordination is having bra & knickers from the same general direction on the colour wheel.  I decided that for the party simple was best and presented less likelyhood of total party failure so we had the usual fair with a slight twist, I also served a healthy options menu for the parents.  We had fruit platters which funnily enough the kids devoured before the high octane stuff and options that were filling without a calorie count equal to the national debt. 

For me it wasn't about prohibition it was about portion control and I have to say that it was a HUUUUUUGE A++++ for me.  Yep you read it right I passed.  In keeping with the honesty of this blog I will tell you that I ate a little of most things but the key word here is little.  What leftovers there were haven't been binge eaten and I think I only managed about 3 mouthfuls of cake before I was distracted and the cake moment past.

Then I backed it up last night with a voluntary salad.   Seriously I'm starting to scare myself..........................
and I like it :)

I think in the early stages of this change it's all about the planning.  With every plan there is less room to lie to yourself and make excuses.

So here's to a week with a plan.

Dare To Dream

I tend to be a little bit AR (anally retentive for those playing at home) so in the time honoured tradition of overthinking I've decided to start a list of all the things I'd like to do as I become the unleaded version of myself.

1.   Run around with my children for as long as they want to.
2.   Ride the new rollercoaster at Dreamworld and be able to sit in the seat without taking a crowbar
3.   Wear a singlet top
4.   Eat out without feeling like a circus freak show attraction
5.   Play netball
6.   Wear heels
7.   Skydive
8.   Scuba dive on the Barrier Reef
9.   Run a 10K Fun Run for Charity
10. Play a pick up game of cricket
11. Go to the gym because I feel like it
12. Take a dance class
13. Join a community choir
14. Go shopping and try on clothes and enjoy it.
15. Walk into a shop, any shop and be able to grab something off the rack
16. Get a spray tan
17.  Fly without a seatbelt extension
18. Run up stairs without a threatened coronary
19. Learn to surf
20. Go cycling with my family




I'm sure this list will ebb and flow as goals are reached and new ones set but if you're going to jump off a cliff you may as well aim high.

Baby Steps

I did it!!!! I've taken the first step to separation.  Backround: I'm a firm believer in the "it takes a village to raise a child" philosophy.  The mix of people we surround our babies with colour the person they become so as parents we choose a rich tapestry of traits that we hope will imbue the people our babies become so is it unreasonable to want to take this approach to my life changes?  I think not so I've made contact with an organisation who take a whole person approach to weight management.  Does it cost $$$$, some but not nearly what I expected and tbh not anywhere near what I spend on self destructing so win/win right???  It's a 6 month program so no quick fixes in sight and is a mix of qualified professionals and educators with the focus being on wellbeing.  I don't want a diet, I can do diets but let's face it diets are a short term fix and I want a long life.

Now for the downside: I don't have my initial appointment for another 2 weeks, have some consideration please, it's taken me a long time to get to the point where I can acknowlege who I am and that I need help, patience is an acquired taste and I've never gotten the flavour.

I'm ready NOW :)

As Buzz would say To Infinity and Beyond

Truth # 1 - No Excuses

I've always been a big believer in personal responsibility.  To my mind some things are a given when you become a "grown up", you vote, you pay taxes, you pay your bills AND you take responsibility for your choices.  The great thing about free will is that we all have it but we need to exercise it.  Freedom of choice like any freedom comes with responsibility.  You make the choice then you need to own it.  This has been a major failing of mine.  In the past I've had every excuse under the sun for why I make the choices I do, some justified and some not but ultimately I still made that choice.  No one has force fed me, no one has taken the healthy option from my plate and substituted the fat laden, calorie ridden alternatives I've indulged.

I am an emotional eater, an addict, food is my drug of choice.  Just like any other drug addict there has to be that turning point, that rock bottom moment that slaps you in the face and let me tell you that bone crunching thud is a doozy.

Mine is very recent and very raw and came through a veiled Facebook comment.  No names were used but being as I'm not an idiot there was no doubting who it was directed at.  Was it hurtful?  hell yes  Was it cruel?  undoubtably  Was it true? To my mortification, yes it is.

Fat discrimination isn't a new thing but somewhere in the progression of society it is becoming more acceptable to heap shame, scorn and ridicule on the fat amongst us.  To sit in judgement based on appearances and the "laziness" of the obese.  If only it were that simple.

The unvarnished truth is that until you are prepared to take personal responsibility you cannot begin to change.  How can you change what you don't accept?

Today I accept that I have abused my body to such an extent that my health is being damaged.  My soul is being damaged by the hurt I feel with every rejection.  The pain I feel when I'm judged by what I look like rather than who I am.  Tired of being told how I have "a pretty face".  I don't have a pretty face, perhaps one day I used to have a pretty face but when I look in the mirror and see the bloated, doughy face staring back at me I know the truth.

So today I accept that only I have the power to change this.  The hopes, dreams and desires that are withering and dying within me can only be nourished by the warmth of my heart.

Today I dare to dream.

The Obligatory First Post

Ah the pressure of a opening post.  Revealing yet self conscious at the same time.

Let's set the mood shall we? I'll start by sharing a little about who I am.  A forty something professional who is only just realising what she wants to be when she grows up, just call me a late bloomer, one of the by-products of the whole growing up process is that you begin to realise not only who you want to be but the flipside is who you don't want to be.  I've realised that I don't want to be the Fat Chick any longer. 

I'm a very private person so sharing is akin to me opening a vein and serving refreshments for the Undead Class Reunion, oh, and asking for help is a near impossibility.

I'm a moderately intelligent woman so I already know the mechanics of what needs to be done to achieve a healthy lifestyle, what I need to come to grips with is emotionally, how to put into place the tools that will get me where I need to be.  Consistently my efforts to change are futile against my self sabotage.  I really rock the whole self sabotage gig.

Hence me fleeing to the anonymity of Blog Land.

So welcome to my Nightmare