Please don't tell someone they have put on weight. I'm sure they know.

                           


Ok so lets talk about my morning. Well lets go back further than that. To urgh... my weight.

I am not a naturally thin person. I have good German genes (and I don't mean the ones that you buy). I mean I am of good stock that if there was ever a famine I would be the last one standing. The thing is... I like being thinner. It is a personal preference. The down side of this is that I have been fighting my weight for the last 30 years. 30. Friggin. Years.

Thats 30 years of being careful of what I eat, beating myself up if I eat too much, thinking about food every minute of the day, hating myself when the scales say I have gone up in weight (that is when I can build up the courage to weigh myself), feeling like a weak failure when my clothes are tight, looking at photos of myself at amazing times of my life and all I see is fat. 

They way I have managed to control my weight is with stupid diets and stupid amounts of exercise. The amount I need to exercise to maintain a size 10 is insane. And very hard work. At least 6 days of exercise a week, with at least 5 of them being long amounts of running. At least an hour. No less than 7kms. Usually 10km. Sometimes more. It makes me tired, it makes me sore, but most importantly it makes me thin.

Fast forward to the "Great Stress Fracture of 2015-2016" which was part of the 'The Mother Fucker of a Year When My Life Fell Apart for a Little While". The stress fracture stopped my in my tracks. Both physically and mentally. I can see it needed to happen. Like my counsellor said " You needed to stop. You didn't so your body stopped you." 

                            

I didn't do anything because I couldn't. So I put on weight. In my insane desire to be thin I started exercising again too early and if I am honest I'm sure this is the reason that my leg has still not fused and I'm looking at surgery. The one thing I did do though was realise I needed to start looking at my very unhealthy relationship with food and my body image. I needed to start to understand that I am more than a number on a scale, a number on a label, or a roll of fat. I am more than that. I can't keep fighting my curves forever. I am exhausted.

I have made some steps to get healthy. I have quit sugar, I have lowered my consumption of carbs and upped my consumption of vegetables. I have (reluctantly) lowered my alcohol consumption and I couldn't tell you the last time I had chocolate. I am trying for a life style change. I am trying to undo 30 years of obsession. It is hard, and it is slow. Really, really slow.

It is only in the last few days that I have started to see what I am beginning to accept ( I don't really like it yet) what I see in the mirror. A size 12. I am in a healthy weight range and my BMI is fine. I can laugh that I broke the zip on my size 11 jeans and I even had a chuckle when I told my friend that the squeaky noise she heard on our walk was not my shoes- but the sound of my thighs rubbing together in my gym pants. 

And then this morning happened. A person who I say hello to on our morning walks commented on how much weight I had put on. It was that sentence that tore down all the hard work I had done in building myself up to start feeling ok about the "newish" me. The one who had has finally stopped fighting with my genetics and relaxed. I know it shouldn't have. I know I should have laughed it off. I know that comments of a person I hardly know shouldn't matter. I know that she is old and old people don't have a filter. I know I should have said " You think I'm fat now! You should have seen me 2 months ago." I know some people have real problems and this is a first world problem of a middle class white girl. But it hurt. Really really hurt.

I didn't cry. I told her she was rude. When she did the " I'm just the sort of person who says what I think." I told her that sometimes you can't if it is going to hurt people. 

I honestly don't really know what my point of this blog is. I am angry and I am sad that I am made to feel that if I am not a size 10 I am not looking good. I am angry and sad that someone feels it is ok to "say what they think" even if it is insensitive. I am angry and sad that people don't ever take a step back and be kind. I'm angry that the pressure that exists to be thin and being thin is more celebrated and important than being a good person. 

I'm selfish. I honest hardly ever notice peoples' weight. I will talk about it with them if they bring it up. I will offer diet and exercise advice (because I am a bit of an expert) if they bring it up. But the one thing I will do if I notice someone has either put on or lost a lot of weight is be concerned- and wonder if maybe something is going on in their life. I would never tell them they are fat. Because I don't care about your size. I care if you are a nice, kind, good, caring person. Bonus points if you make me laugh. We are all going through our own shit. So maybe if you can't say something nice. SHUT THE FUCK UP.

When did we stop caring about other people?

Let me tell you a story.

A couple of weeks ago I went to a restaurant with some friends. It was nice. Kind of cool, but in the area where I live. I go there quite often. There is a routine. You walk in, you are seated and some nice person comes and explains the menu, takes your order and then when you have completed your meal your go up to the counter and you pay your bill. Easy right?



Well on this day I went with my friends, we had coffee, all put in the money and I went up to pay the bill. I am a nice person because I understand working in hospitality can be a very hard job and the public can be not very nice. So up to the counter I go. There are 6 people in front of me, and that is ok. It would seem they were from a large table and they were all paying for themselves. A bit annoying but what ever. The line moved swiftly until the girls one in front of me got served. The line stalled. BECAUSE THEY HAD NOT EVEN LOOKED AT THE MENU. No idea what they wanted. There was now 8 people behind me. The girl were still deciding. Not even close. After 5 minutes. I said to the girl serving. ' Excuse me (told you I was polite) Could I just pay for my coffee please. I have the right money.' She told me no because they were paying customers. 

Mmmm. Now this may have made me a little bit cross, and I may have unknowingly made a face. I think this because the girl started getting flustered. I said nothing. The girls stilled poured over the menu not caring that the queue was getting longer. The girl serving got more flustered. I got angrier. Two other people behind the bar kept talking to each other and laughing. Finally after another 3 minutes I said " Can I please just pay for my coffee." By now I may have had tone and I was begging a bit. I know this because the two girls finally clicked and went and sat down to order. 

I payed for my coffee and said to the girl serving " I was not angry with you- I was angry because the behaviour of the two girls was very rude and inconsiderate." And I wasn't angry with her. Although she could have been more assertive and the two behind the bar could have stepped in, but thats ok. I will just not go back.

So yesterday the same thing happened at another coffee shop. The lady in front pushed to get in front of me and then took 4 minutes to order 7 cakes. I know it was 7 because she made 7 separate walks back and forwards to look at the cakes. Meanwhile the queue of people to get the Skinny long mac's topped up ( I was in a fancy part of town)was out the door. But cake lady didn't care. Not even when the lady behind me said to her " For god's sake just get the peanut butter slice. They are all full of fat and sugar." 

No one says it better than Kim

               

But here is my point. Every day I go to work and I teach young kids to be considerate. Be polite, care about other people. Why are adults not doing it?  Is it that hard to give a courtesy wave? To merge properly? To say thank you? To move slightly when you are about to have a head on collision with someone on the footpath? To smile? To be nice? To maybe care about other people? How did we all get so absorbed in our own sense of importance that we stopped giving a shit and started being arseholes?

For the record the lady then told me that the peanut butter slice was the yuckiest slice- she just said that to her because she was being so rude. 

Another reason I am glad I'm old. Competitive placentas.

I'm not grateful for being old often, but one thing I am glad about is that I am not having children in 2016.  It just seems so stressful. And competitive. I get anxious just reading about it.

Today while sitting in a doctors surgery I read an article titled 'What I ate when I was pregnant" The author of the article went on to say that she had a really healthy placenta because she ate well during her pregnancy. Apparently she knew her placenta was healthy because the mid wife told her it was. Well call me crazy but I thought that all placentas that produced a baby where pretty much all healthy. It didn't require a special diet of fermented breads, dandelion teas and bone broth.

I have had three babies- one in 1994, one in 1996 and another in 2005. I managed to produce three healthy babies without a fermented bread in sight. In my day the only thing you didn't eat was brie, polony and salami. (Sushi wasn't invented then- well it was but you know what I mean). In fact one of babies who shall remain nameless  was fed almost exclusively on a diet of Mc Chicken burgers. The only time this diet varied was when I went to Italy and the said child then survived on gelato. Funnily enough I don't think she likes ice cream all that much. Or McChickens.

The author of this article craved oranges and she ate lots of them. Apparently this was because she was low in iron. I craved nail polish remover. Not to drink, but to smell. I inhaled it. Couldn't get enough. Not sure what that meant I was low in. Nails? I also craved ice. The water ice, not the drug ice. I would get a large diet coke with my Mc Chickens ( didn't want those extra calories) and ask for extra ice. I would chomp away on that ice for hours. 

The author also did some gentle exercise like yoga and beach walks. I did not exercise with the first and put on 24kgs, ( to be fair I did think it was maybe my Mc Diet until I was pregnant with my second). I exercised with the second and ate kind of well (except for when the baby wanted a mars bar, because when the baby wants a mars bar, the baby wants a mars bar). I put on 24kgs. To be honest I can't remember what I ate or what I did when I was pregnant with my third. I vaguely remember bread sticks. 24kgs. To.the.kilo.

My point. As long as you are not doing drugs, binge drinking or smoking- you are doing ok. The baby will be fine, your placenta will be healthy. When your child is 16 and drinking cheap wine out of a silver pillow and shovelling bbq shapes down their throat you won't be standing back saying " see how worthwhile it was that I had no sugar when I was pregnant".

So step away from the pasture fed beef and the organic milk and eat what you want to. If that is organic milk and pasture fed beef that is fine. But if it is milk and some steak that comes from Coles with a apricot jam and cheese sandwich on fresh white bread with lots of butter with a carrot cake chaser... thats is ok too. You placenta will be just fine.