38 minus 6.7

So dudes, it was my birthday on Wednesday (8 December if you, you know, need to diarise for next year) and I had an absolutely lovely day. There were not presents as such*, finances being in a particular category known as ‘dire’, but the delicious messages of birthday wishes and just having a very chilled day (as opposed to the current daily status report of ‘frantic) was just what I needed.


I’m not one of those to feel dread or refusal-to-acknowledge about getting older, I for one know that what I have learnt over the years and how I have changed has all been for the better and at 38 I can say that I probably am my most content. Oh sure, the money thing is harrowing to say the least but I have spent time this year hatching a plan to eradicate lessen that issue in 2011 and as we have been in similar states of financial woe before I know that this too shall pass.

As most of you know, this year has not been without it’s challenges: finding a high school for Oscar; waiting to see if he got accepted to the High School of Awesome; Mum having a hip replacement; Oscar’s bi-lateral ankle surgeries and 6 weeks in a wheelchair and three months rehabilitation; Mum falling over; Chef losing his job; Mum needing another hip replacement; Chef’s new Job of Awesome but salary reduction; the arrival – and ongoing STILL – of whooping cough along with all the other sundry hiccups that come in a household spanning three generations.

But I would actually say this has been a fantastic year. I know.

We have a whole new team of specialists and allied-health professionals working with us and Oscar, we’ve had myriad new opportunities and activities for Oscar, Mum’s on the mend, Chef is the happiest and most engaged I have ever seen him in a job, the boys kill me every day with their flux of attempting to kill or play with each other, Chef and I are as committed to each other as ever and we are surrounded by beautiful friends and family.

Life is good.

The only aspect of me that was doing my head in was my weight and the severe state of self-loathing I was in. At the first sign of warmer weather this Spring I started to have real anxiety attacks about it. I spent several weeks hating myself all while shovelling more food into my mouth and drinking even more alcohol because yeah, that’s an awesome response to health issues and weight management.

Then a few Twitter friends started a group geared to losing 8kgs in the 10 weeks leading up the Christmas. I thought, this is it. This is what I need. So I joined up.That was seven weeks ago – or thereabouts. I also started the C25K program – 9 weeks of getting me off the couch and able to run 5kms.

So here I am, into week 6 of the program. This week saw me run for 20 minutes without stopping – including doing so along a road that was going uphill.

All up I’ve lost 6.7kgs and am feeling all the better for it. I like myself again. I have some very real goals more related to fitness than weight loss and I am feeling good.

And isn’t that what it’s all about?

I just don’t know myself anymore…

1. On Friday night I put up Christmas wall decals (they were really cheap at the Christmas store at Forestway Fruit Market).

2. Today I saw this on Loobylu‘s site and thought, ‘how adorable’ and went to order the pattern (I stopped myself but it’s only a matter of time).

3. I am into Week 3 of C25K and am loving it. I was a runner as a child so I figure this should not be that surprising. What is shocking is that I am running in a singlet top and bike shorts. In daylight. I have even taken to taking next door’s dog with me. I KNOW!

4. I am wearing clothing that bares my upper arms. Dudes, I have not worn sleeveless items of clothing since c1980. I have had bingo wings/foodoobadahs/tuck-shop arms since puberty. It’s not pretty. It appears I no longer care about public health and safety.

5. I am into week 5 of losing weight. I have neither forgotten that I am attempting to lose weight or given up. I’m down 5.5kgs.

6. In 1992 Chef and I went on a holiday together to Tasmania. We played Scrabble. He beat me. Badly. Being somewhat unhinged tempestuous I threw the Scrabble board in frustration. This would have been far more dramatic was it not Travel Scrabble, thereby meaning the pieces were magnetised and well, you can guess the rest. Fast forward to 2010 and now the proud owner of an iPhone (a totally new addiction I now how to reign in) Chef and I have started playing Words with Friends. Dudes, I have whipped.his.arse. TWICE. OH YEAH BABY. Of course in the current game I’m 70 points behind and seem to have a serve of vowels to make an Eastern European jealous but who the fuck cares. TWO GAMES IN A ROW. Bring it.