Discipline, focus, results driven……so what about those pants?

I’m going to get back into my pants – I’ve been going on about it for two months now and yet I’m not in them and really, I could have been by now.

Here’s something I don’t understand. If two months ago I was given a task by my boss (that is of course if I had one) how would I manage it?  I would put a project plan together and ensure that it was a priority for myself and my team to achieve the goal.  I would work back until midnight if I had to, the weekends and completely sacrifice everything in order to deliver this project on time and to a premium standard.

So why can’t I apply this same discipline to my goal of wanting to fit back into my pants?  Why also can Michael forget to eat yet it’s all I think about –  at my high and low points I just love and want to eat great food and of course wine.

Do I love putting things into my mouth more than I love wearing my pants?  Is this the question I should be asking instead?

Or, should I give myself a project with an objective, targets and a deadline?  now that would be a shit thing called a ‘diet’ wouldn’t it or better still a ‘personal challenge’…….. but I’ve been there done that so many times, that’s how I’ve gotten here now searching for my bodylove after 20 years. Round and round and round we go – or like I feel like now, trapped in a snow dome.

Accountability.  I need to be held accountable by someone else rather than myself when it comes to my pants.  So on that note from tomorrow which is Friday, I’m keeping a food diary and I’ll publish it each week, good, bad and benders.

Let’s see if bodylove can help me deliver like I would any other project.  And if not – should I just fucking throw out the pants?

bring on the criticism but a compliment…. I don’t think so

Diaries can be incredibly therapeutic whilst also terrifying.   Have you ever found an old diary and been mortified at what you wrote and wondered ‘who the fuck is this person, was this really me, what was going on that made me write this stuff”??????   Well I’ve done it many times over the years when I’ve had to make space under my bed for more stuff and discovered an old diary.   I’ve just done it again with what I’ve been writing with Bodylove and I’m shocked at how angry and distressed I sound for right now I don’t feel a bit like that.  Who was that person?  No wonder I freaked you out – especially you Mum, sorry.

Women and our hormones or just plain vulnerable and depressed?  I do really believe that my hormones fuck me up a good 2 – 3 weeks out of every month now as this last week since my period ended I’ve been great.  Completely balanced, clear, positive, goal driven, haven’t cried once and all this in minus 18 degrees!

So what’s different?  Hormones definitely played a role but GIRLFRIENDS are what really happened.  I was blessed to have a girlfriend come over from London on the weekend – she has known me since I was 11 years old and even though I thought I had changed dramatically since then – she quickly reminded that I had not.

We talked non stop, we laughed, we ate, we drank, we fucking froze and we simply just hung out.  I felt so normal and that I perhaps even may like Stockholm.  She has a particular gift at making you feel amazing, beautiful and successful, like a lot of my girlfriends come to think of it.

So why is it that when we are kids we listen to everything everyone says to us especially when it comes to criticism yet as adults we can’t accept compliments.  Ok I should be talking in first person here, I remember a therapist telling me this years ago – always speak in first person to not put the issue onto someone else.

What I don’t understand is this, when I was a kid and I was given compliments I loved it, I’d boast about my awards at school etc.  When I was told to loose weight or teased about my weight I punished myself because of it.   Now as an adult however,  if I am given a compliment about my body or my qualities I feel extremely uncomfortable and refuse them as I don’t believe it.  Can’t say I’ve been critised about my body in a while – but if you call being asked if you are pregnant when you aren’t a critism then I get this too fucking much.

Why is this?  My girlfriend complimented me all weekend but I refused to believe any of them.  Are  we just… sorry am I just a loser self loather who can’t accept or more to the point love myself. I hate those people again the victims……..but where did it go wrong from kid to adult?

Anyway I need to work this out in order to find my bodylove I think.  And in regards to getting back into my pants…….. well, I’ll get to that tomorrow.

Broken promises

I fell apart again last week and I broke all my promises.

Promise no.1: I didn’t use my network of support and ask for help.

Promise no.2: I hated myself.

Promise no.3: I punished myself with hard core exercise.

Promise no 4: I drank a shitload in order to make it go away.

Promise no 5: I ate more than my body needed.

Promise no 6:  I hated myself even more.

And it all started with a broken promise from someone else to me.

On Tuesday I connected with my little sister and began to keep a food diary, write recipes and meal plan ideas to get the metabolism going and have a structure and goal for us both to get back into our goal pieces of clothing.  My headspace was clear, I had a vision and a goal and desire to support my little sister in return for her support.  But then on Wednesday I received an email from our landlady advising that after only 4 fucking weeks of us living here that we have to move out. She’s moving back from NY – after she specifically told us before we signed the lease that she would be away for at least 2 years.

So, these things happen yes I understand it’s out of her control blah blah blah but I had no idea how badly it would affect me.  I’ve literally spent the last 5 days crying, going hard at the gym, drinking far too much wine and bymyself and snacking on anything and everything pretending that it doesn’t matter because everything is fucked anyway.

This little piece of ‘home’ we have finally is all I’ve got that I feel safe in, that’s familiar and that I can control.  And yes I know I can re create it and actually I have a beautiful real home back in Sydney but none of this has helped me as I’ve gone downhill since receiving the email.

What I haven’t done is address it and put a plan together on how I’m going to get out of this shithole of a headspace once again.  Is this because sometimes it’s easier to be miserable than to get up and keep fighting?

I so often use the expression no I’m a survivor not a victim – so get up and deal with it. But are there so many victims because it’s easier to be a victim than to be a survivor.  Is it easier to stay down on the floor and not be seen, not breathe or make a difference?  Michael just texted me to let me know he’ll be home in an hour, and it’s currently 7.30pm.  Hmmmmm It’s not his fault I know, if only he was having an affair I could run away from here without guilt but , well I know he isn’t so I can’t.

Instead I need to be a survivor – maybe I need to do some research on exactly what this means to be a survivor and come back to you on how I’m going to dance again like Beyonce.

In the meantime I am starting my Carb verses Protein meal planner this week as I’m not going to let this fucking get me again and I will keep a diary this time and I will not hate myself as I keep track of what I feed myself to feel better.

But I hate broken promises, really fucking hate them.  And so I cannot break my promise to myself that I will never make myself sick again.  Therefore I may need a little more help than just that of my friends……..

Little sister – Big inspiration

My little sister has just inspired me to put together a plan which will  give a focus and structure on what to eat.

Last week I focussed on ‘spilling my guts’ – that was really crass wasn’t it?  But you know what I mean……

Now that I’ve put it out there and started the process towards feeling ok about myself again I need to start the next phase and get back into my pants.  There’s two issues I see here right now – the recognition of when I’m emotionally eating or drinking excessively and managing it before it becomes a problem and I regress to that 14 year old,  and the other being to get back into my pants and staying there – which point 1 will be about.

So the pants part, I need to stop drinking 4 glasses of wine a night, eating 2nds, picking all day and stealing dates as I walk around the supermarket!

After messaging with my little sister I realised it doesn’t matter how much weight you want to let go of it’s about how the fuck do I start – and on my own.  Well you are not alone sister and I’ll support you in finding your bodylove too, whether it takes a few months, a few years and our entire lives to maintain it.

I reckon a Tuesday or any day is as good as any day to start.  Porque no! Why not as the spaniards say to everything.

My first meal plan is based on the idea that you should rotate carb with protein meals to trick your body and stimulate the metabolism.   It’s posted here with the meal ideas needing some serious work but it’s a start.

It may well be a crock of shit but it makes sense to me and I want to try it.   When I was living in Spain the Mediterranean diet is based very similar to this. They eat shitloads the Spaniards but they aren’t big people and they seldom mix their carbs with their protein – on the same plate.  Never would you see them cut up a piece of fish and eat it with salad on the same fork or vegetables on the same plate as your meat.  They would eat the salad or plate of vegetables ie the carbs first and as main course the meat – ie the protein by itself.  They do however eat alot of bread – so the theory isn’t completely sound.

Meal plan 1 Carb & Protein Rotation

The other point is to eat 4 – 6 meals per day spread out every 2-3 hours which are of even calories as to not overload your body in one sitting with way too much food to have to deal with digesting – this apparently is one of the worst things we can do for our bodies. Not eat all day then eat a huge lunch or dinner – I do this.

I’m not counting calories literally but I do have an idea of calories in the food I eat after studying it for 20 years and am going to aim to not eat more than 1200 calories a day.  I love wine – this of everything is going to be my biggest weakness – especially in minus 0 temperatures.  So instead of nipping it I’m going to allow myself to keep drinking wine and alcohol but only 1 glass at any time – except maybe one day a week where I can have a bottle……. and I’m not kidding but don’t worry I won’t drink alone……

Because I know for me, I need to be accountable I’m going to keep and post my food diary next week and go from there.

Once i do the diary you can cut and paste it, if you want and use it as a way to stay on track too. No-one is going to judge you but it’s a good way to track also exactly what we are putting into our bodies and be accountable but with support.  And I’ll put up some recipes too for you.

xx

I’m back!

“Whenever I’m down, I call on you my friends, in my time of need”   G.A

I love quoting song lyrics – music is my therapy afterall and so are my friends and fuck I miss them.  But I’m so grateful that I have them too even if it is through cyper space and that I can air my shit like this and have no judgement cast on me for being a loser but instead so much understanding and non objective advice as to why I may have gone so dark.  You don’t have to stick your fingers down your throat to go into dark places I’ve realised.

We all deal with our ‘shadows’ differently but we all experience it.  Writing about my search for Bodylove in only one week has put me on such a different journey. From feeling so revoltingly ugly, freaked out and exposed as a failure to now today feeling strong and fired up about wanting to be alive again and sharing my journey in doing so.

Today the sun came out in snowy Stockholm for one whole hour and I felt it’s beauty and it’s power.  As the sun reflected off the white snow to a point that I couldn’t actually see anything because it was so bright,  I had a little moment of clarity.

Despite not having any comments published on my Bodylove blog ( btw you have to put them here from now on and not my email and you don’t have to use your name but this my vision for Bodylove to become an open community for sharing/airing/supporting and managing it for the rest of our lives)   I’ve received more advice and support than I could have ever paid for and from people who “know what I’m talking about” – why because they could see through why I’ve lost my way over here as they’ve done it themselves at some point or know me better than I know myself.

I haven’t completely worked it out yet in order to be able to verbalise it but top line I regressed to that 14 year old girl because I’m not part of a community here.  Defining ourselves by work is one thing which I thought I used to do when I worked like a mutherfucker in order to be respected, have a purpose and of course to make money.  But working is also about being part of a community, as is playing sport, being a mum, doing a course, being passionate about something and just plain interacting with human beings. Being part of a community is life.  It’s survival, it’s learning, it’s sharing your knowledge and it’s feeding off the energy of life itself.

I think I regressed to that shit place as a 14 year old because I didn’t feel part of a community then (let’s face it how many teenagers do but I managed to let it get me again)  and I’m not part of a community right now in another city another country.  I’m not working so I feel like a failure and that I have nothing to add to the world, I’m not participating in the Swedish community because I don’t speak the language but also because I don’t really like them! oops not supposed to say that either but fuck it, until today I haven’t.

However today I had clarity – the fire in my belly was awoken by the hour of sun and I felt my mind shift.  Shift from that of I hate myself to ‘Come on chica, you can do anything you want, you just walked 10 mins through the snow to go the gym and didn’t fall over once”  Now that’s a good sign, it’s a sign of change because every other day I’ve fallen.

So why do I like the Swedes today all of a sudden?  It’s a funny combination of things.

1. I got the courage up to ask for a training program at the gym, which I’ve dreaded all week but I did it. And he was fucking fantastic.  He’d spent 6 months in the Margaret River surfing in 89 and wanted to remenis about every detail whilst also teaching me new things and encouraging me and also demanding that I ‘look in the mirror and as you breathe out say I’m beautiful’ – at first I thought what the fuck has he read my blog can he see through me?  But no this is just his way and I started to look at myself and feel ok but not quite there yet to say I’m b……… outloud or in my head yet.  Little by little, poco y poco as the Spaniards say.  Today I participated in a community – one that normally terrifies me but was totally ok.

2. I walked out of the gym and the sun was gone but the snow was falling again and I felt fucking great and decided to go and buy some wine for the weekend.  In Sweden you can only buy alcohol at one chain of bottle shops which is owned by the government and open until 7pm I think and only until 3pm on a Saturday.  It’s totally stupid and encourages binge drinking in my opinion but deal with it as it’s the way it is here.  I paid for Spanish wine and beer and put the bottles into my trusty Green coles bag – (Europe are fucked and still using plastic for everything, so I had bags sent over).

Anyway so I took two steps and I don’t know what happened, maybe it was because my arm was still jellyish from the training session or I was just clumsy but I took two steps and SMASH  I dropped the bag!  Every head  turned and stared at me as red wine poured all over the white tiles like I had just shot my own foot with blood pouring everywhere. But instead of freaking out and bursting into tears which I’ve tended to do – way too often these days I was totally cool as I tried to help clean it up apologising whilst also making fun of the situation. The staff in turn were unreal.  It was not a problem at all, they were amazing and gave me all new wine and beer and told me not to worry and have a nice weekend!   I almost cried in happiness, but instead walked home with a huge smile and a sense of change in myself.

Today, with the support of my friends I’ve realised I am still part of their community regardless of them being on the other side of the world.

Today I’ve congratulated myself for what I’ve achieved today.

Today I haven’t hated myself.

Today I’m back…….

Fuck fuck fuck

I’m completely freaked out today that I have done this.  Yesterday I felt ok about it and relieved that it was out of my head but since publishing this shit I’ve freaked out a few people which in turn has made me feel like a failure.

They’ve not intentionally make me feel like this – I’m the only one that controls how I feel but by revealing how weak I am right now is why I feel like I’ve failed.  I’m supposed to be the strong one aren’t I?

Why is it that I can motivate and encourage and love everyone else around me but can’t do it for myself.   Why also is it that I have allowed the 14 year chelsea to come back into my life and hence I’ve lost perspective of the big world and how much pain and hunger and misery there is out there – and yet all I can focus on is how much I hate myself.

I just did a spin class and burst into tears halfway through ABBA ‘Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight’ I’m not sure if that’s even the song title but that’s how it goes.  Anyway I went from crying during this song as I realised Fuck – what have I done making my secrets public, fucking desperado, fuck – get it together and get perspective and appreciate how lucky you are to even be here – fuck why has this happened isn’t everything supposed to be perfect when you fall in love and get married, fuck, what did she just say “snake but” what the hell does that mean? – which was good as it pulled me out of my headfuck of thoughts.

Then Ramstein came on, loud and hard and I smiled and turned the resistance up. I was happy again as I thought of my girlfriend about to have a baby back in Sydney,  proud of myself for getting to the gym after a 15 min walk through snow and motivated about continuing to write about my search for bodylove.

I have also had some amazing feedback privately from my friends whom know what Im talking about in regards to emotionally eating yet also punishing yourself and then not being able to find a way out.  I know exactly why I’m in this space right now – I’m unhappy and I’m lost.  So I just have to find my path again and not fuck my body up in the process.

too fat to sing

I can’t remember the first time I stuck my fingers down my throat in order to purge the contents of my stomach into the toilet but I do remember why I did it.  I was 14 years old and I’d joined a singing and dancing group ala Young Talent Time.  I loved dancing, in the privacy of my lounge room with a hair brush and a make believe audience of adoring fans.

But when made to learn choreography I was shite at it and I hated how I looked in the mirror. We were made to wear dark yellow leotards over black and dark yellow tights – no baggy tees allowed.  Even the slimmest girls looked hideous so imagine what the girls looked like whom had a little tummy and developing breasts that in the hideous costumes instead looked like ‘man boobs’.  We looked funking terrible. As if we had a chance of feeling good about ourselves when the dance teacher was a grown woman with a hot body wearing hot pants and a bra and danced like the chic from Flashdance.

About a month after I joined the school it was discovered that I could sing, I didn’t even know this.  My mum was invited to a meeting where the owners of the school praised my vocal skills and suggested that I join the rehearsals of the ‘talent group’ on Saturday afternoons which is what every student of the performing arts saturday school dreamed of – joining ‘kids unlimited’.  They were the kids whom performed at shopping malls and R.S.Ls in the suburbs, wore diamonty earings, tanned high heel chorus shoes,  had super white teeth, long legs and smiles that never moved and resembled cheshire cats.

The girls were all skinny and in order for me to be considered to actually join the group I was to be put on a diet as in their opinion I was a little too ‘chubby’ to go on stage and needed to loose 5 or 6 kgs.

This is when I began to have Body Hate and this is when I started to be really cruel to my body.

It was the easiest solution and I knew it worked as I had watched my older sister do it for years.  I even learnt tricks from her like how to ensure absolutely everything was gone from your stomach by eating a green apple peel first and when this came up you knew you were empty.  Or how you had a maximum of 1 hour before it was too late or if you got paranoid someone was going to catch you, just throw up in a plastic bag in the back yard and hide it in the bin.

Being told that for me to join the group I had to loose weight I decided subsconsiously that in order to be a success you had to be skinny.  You could only sing if you were skinny, you could only be a success if you were skinny, you could only find happiness if you were skinny and you could only fall in love if were skinny.  These subconscious beliefs I only realised I had a few years ago – and hence why I stopped singing many years ago as in my mind I was still not skinny enough to sing.

I feel really sad for that 14 year old girl right now and I feel revolting remembering what I put her through until she was 20 years old.  I have some horrible memories of some of the situations I put myself through which I’m not ready to fess up with just yet.

But I’m a survivor and not a victim. The past is the past, see you later bye and we have the power to change our futures  – and no I haven’t been to an Anthony Robbins seminar.  It’s what I have to believe in, in order to not regress and to find my Bodylove.

I know I’m not alone here in looking back and realising that I didn’t do certain things in my life because I believed I couldn’t because of my weight. Someone pretty close to me has told me some full on stuff about this very issue but it’s not my right to publish it on her behalf.  So – now you can do it yourself and share it here because I know you want to and you are reading this…….. and you don’t have to even use your own name.  xxxxx me

Just one notch at a time

Because my Body Hate began at age 14 I think I’ve conditioned my subconscious to always be thinking about food and my body in a negative way.  This is why I need to find a solution for the rest of my life and not just for a few months.

The basic principle to loosing weight, which we all know is that we have to eat less than what our body requires in energy, so we do this for a concentrated period of time and we loose weight.  And the rule to maintaining it is to manage your food intake with your exercise, eat only when hungry, find alternatives to sugar blah blah blah and basically change your habits, control what goes into your mouth and don’t use food and wine as a healer for when you feel like shit or are going through shit.  Hmmmm if I can quit smoking why haven’t I been able to change the food habits.

Over the years I have lost and re-gained 50kg or more I reckon.  8kgs with GM aka Gloria Marshal before she went bust, another year 7 kgs with Weight Watchers, 5kgs with Lite and Easy and only a year ago 10kgs through a 12 week challenge where I managed my own diet and exercise program but I paid someone alot of money to keep me accountable by weighing me each week.

With my 20 years of experience I’ve put together my own food plan with the objective of being able to go up a notch on my belt. Just one notch.  Once I get to my goals then I know I’m going to need to manage what I eat to maintain my weight not only whilst I’m living in this freezer but whilst I go through change and shit for the rest of my life.

But right now I need and want to fit into my clothes comfortably again and feel good and in control again.

Scales freak me out and make me so miserable most of the time so I’m not going to use them. Well not every week, maybe once a month I don’t know sometimes I can’t help myself but is that punishing myself if I do when I know how much I hate them?   Will I go downhill and kill my motivation if they don’t read what I want?

What I would prefer to do is have goal items of clothing.  This is what depresses me most when my clothes feel awful or I can feel and see all my bits hanging out.

I’ve got two goal pieces of clothing -

1. My belt and reaching the first button comfortably again.
2. My black suit pants that I paid a fortune for, they look hot and I want to wear them.

I want it all now of course or next month but instead I know I need to be realistic so my aim is 2 months – which I reckon in that time with focus and support I can comfortably get back into my pants.

I fucking hate having to do before and after photos – I like seeing other peoples success but I hate it myself.

However should I be taking a photo of my pants or my belt each week (my head not included) and post this as my tracker opposed to weighing myself?

Will it give me motivation and support or will it make me feel like shit, like having to look at myself in the mirror at the gym does right now?

‘know what I’m talking about?’

random diary entry which again pushed me to get it out of my mind and into the world for anyone else who ‘knows what I’m talking about’…… to maybe make me feel normal by sharing your view whilst also making yourself feel better that you are normal too.

31st December 2009

I  confessed my secret to my husband yesterday which was really, really hard and humiliating.  Not only was it about my shame but in all honesty,  I also didn’t want to tell him because I knew I would have to stop once I told him.  This was freaking me out as like when you want to quit smoking or break up with your partner, once you say it – it’s real and you have to do it.

He of course had no idea I’d been making myself sick for the last month,  I used to be a professional at it and still know all the tricks you see.   On a positive note I didn’t have spend Christmas day with food poisoning from a bad prawn…….. this was pretty awful actually. I looked after Michael all day as his body violently tried to get rid of a bad prawn from the night before.  I nursed him as he vomited and moaned and acted dumb as to why I wasn’t sick too. Of course I wasn’t sick I’d already gotten rid of my dinner before it had any chance of digesting or poisoning me.  But watching him vomit all day was a reality check too that making yourself sick is actually really disgusting and painful.

I told him all of this and as I talked to him about my body hate I realised that it was like being in therapy again as I started to let go of some of the many negative thoughts about myself.

I have his support but I need more than that. I need advice and accountability and I need it from other people who have also been there done that and ultimately “know what I’m talking about” – and not only from people who have had eating disorders.  But from anyone that has hated like really hated looking at their own body in the mirror or have  found themselves binge eating to comfort themselves through stress or pain then hating themselves for it later.

Does anyone else know what I’m talking about?

I want Bodylove….

It’s been almost one month since I decided that I needed to do this – i.e write a blog about how much I hate my body and how I’ve hated it for 20 years and how I’m fuking miserable and going slightly crazy because of it.

I need help to find my bodylove for the rest of my life.

I need support, I need advice and I need to be accountable.

I’m living in a freezer in Sweden opposed to the sunshine of Sydney,  away from my friends – my support network, away from a sun that shines and makes you want to get up in the morning, away from fresh food and vegetables and labels which I can understand and I have to go to a gym which is full of gorgeous tall, skinny blondes and instructors whom don’t speak my language.

But I’m a survivor – not a victim.  Despite feeling sick about revealing the shit in my head and what I’ve been doing to myself I’m going to publish my soul in the belief and hope that by doing so I will find a solution for the rest of my life and if publishing it publicly for the rest of my life is what I have to do then I’m going to have to do it.   If I can offer any advice or encouragement to anyone else who ‘knows what I’m talking about’ then even better.

This is my search for Bodylove……

Here’s where it started, warning it’s long and contains alot of ‘fucks’…………

31st December 2009

It’s very early morning of December 31st 2009 New Years Eve, I’m in Tenerife Spain and I can’t sleep.  Why? Because I hate my body and I feel terribly stressed that it’s the end of year again, and I need to loose weight, again.

I don’t have any love whatsofucking ever for my body.

I hate my body.  I hate how it feels, I hate looking at myself in the mirror, I hate trying on new clothes, I hate searching for jeans and hate even more trying to find a cossie.

I hate that at 34 years of age I still have a terrible image of my body.  I hate that I can’t control what I put into my body – and I hate even more that every day for the last month I have purposely stuck my fingers down my throat and made myself sick.

I hate that I have suddenly regressed to when I was 14 years old and that after 20 years my eating disorder has come back and its so full on.

How is it that I am purposely making myself sick again?  I went through years of therapy to heal from this, yet here I am again 20 years later and I’m making myself fuking sick.

I hate myself for this too.

Ok, so why has it come back then – and how am I going to nip it and not just the making myself sick part?

I, like so many people have put myself through many different diets, boot camps, shakes, detoxes, 12 week challenges, hypnotherapy, acupuncture and alot of therapy after spending years with my fingers down my throat.

I think back to what has and hasn’t worked and ultimately it’s been support, advice and accountability.  When I’ve had these opposed to a shake I loose weight and my Body Love starts to occur but when I don’t have them  ( mainly because I’ve stopped paying for it), my body hate returns as I start to put on weight.

Why?   Because I am an emotional eater.

Every time I go through change, stress or  distress I eat and drink to comfort myself and without realising it I put on heaps of weight and then HATE myself.

I have to find a balance.  Some of us are born with super fast metabolims and some of us just ain’t. I’m going to focus on the fact that I have great hair and some people with fast metabolims have thin shit hair and can’t do anything about it.

For me to find Bodylove, I’m going to have to manage my emotions and what I put into my body for the rest of  my life – not just whilst I’m happy.

I don’t want advice from professionals, I’ve paid for this for 20 years and I know all the rules and why.  I want it from people I trust and  ‘know what I’m talking about’.  I’m going to have to either join weight watchers and pretend I understand Swedish or do it myself.

Writing a bodylove blog is the only way I can see myself getting through this right now. Using my 20 years of experience I’m going to do it myself but call on anyone else out there who knows what I’m talking about , share their years of experience and get rid of  any shit in their own heads whilst they are at it.