So my readers will know that when I was pregnant I had horrific gestational diabetes. It was nasty. I had to stick a needle in my finger and test glucose two hours after every meal. I had to inject my stomach with insulin before every meal. I couldn't eat anything that vaguely resembled sugar, and could eat only a minimum of carbs since they converted rapidly to the evil stuff also. As a gluten intolerant pregnant woman this meant I lived on cheese and nuts. And I don't even like cheese much (except the soft ones which were off the list for pregnant women, of course... ). It was exceedingly unpleasant, and I mentally survived by counting down the days to the birth of normality... having a baby was thrilling, but eating like a normal person vied for placing on my excitement podium. So in the midst of that time the horrifically expensive endochronologist cheerfully informed me that I had developed the gestational diabetes because my body was having to work harder as my belly expanded, and that it kicked in when my my body reached its pressure threshold at roughly 75kgs... Her advice was that I needed to see the diabetes diet as a long term lifestyle change because if I ever reached 75kg again, after the pregnancy, then I would be likely to develop Type 2 diabetes for real. At the time I scoffed, and swore that I would never allow that to happen... I would have this baby and then lose lots of weight quickly, exercise lots (I mean what else would I have to do with my time when I was on maternity leave - I thought) and eat well and I would not only return to my pre-baby body, I would improve it. I was determined to be a svelt yummy mummy - with a new found motivation now that I had a little one to set a good example for, and to run around after....
Hmmmm
The reality was, of course, that I was wildly naive. I spent the first couple of months enjoying guilt free cheesecake after all those months of sugar deprivation...and then well... I was simply exhausted, all the time, tired, drained, at times overwhelmed, but mostly just bone weary. I felt like a had no time for myself, and the moments I did get I spent staring blankly at a wall, just breathing slowly, doing the bare minimum that I could. I got by, and still do, on roughly 4-5 hours of broken sleep a night. Sure - I took out a gym membership, I even managed to get to sessions with a trainer for half an hour a week. But at the same time I ate... what ever was nearby... what ever made me feel full... and then in between I ate whatever I wanted to reward myself with. And the results started to show... I kept wearing my maternity clothes... I unpacked my old clothes in anticipation of being able to wear them "soon"...but they hung unworn and after a while I started buying bigger, looser, floppier disguises.... the belly I wore proudly when it had a baby in it was still sticking out but the stretchy t-shirts had a totally different effect and one that made me shudder in the mirror. So I moved the little tops aside for the kaftans... and kept thinking somehow a miracle would happen and I would find my inner yummy mummy... meanwhile I kept eating whatever found its way into my mouth, and sleeping little, and mostly wandering slowly in a daze of tiredness conserving the little energy I had for essentials, like feeding the baby, cleaning my teeth, putting on another load of washing.
And so I not only didn't lose the baby weight, I started putting on more....
And now, to my horror, I find myself weighing in at 72kg. I suddenly realise that I am a mere cheesecake away from diabetes. I am a few weeks of indulgence away from a lifetime of needles and extreme deprivation. I am mere inches from a life that is limited by having to have refrigerated insulin on me at all times, having to eat something sugar free and gluten free every two hours. I would be waving good bye to intrepid travelling, to freedom, to health and vitality and flexibility and choice.
And suddenly I realise that this is now serious folks.
I have made a few hundred weight loss plans in my lifetime. I have dabbled with all the major weightloss schemes in the past when chronic fatigue saw me balloon 15 kg in a few years. Some worked a little, some didn't at all. I have searched in vain for a miracle flab cure. I haven't found it. But what I do know is that I have to do something and this time it has to work. Now it is not just about fitting into that little skirt or looking cute - its about being alive and strong for my daughter. And my daughter has a double sided gene risk of diabetes herself (my grandmother and my donor's mother) - so together we have to beat this demon.
I haven't wanted to talk about it...I have been embarrassed, I have been ashamed... but now I need to put all of that aside. I need to take this pledge, privately and publicly. Its not going to be easy, in the past I have found losing weight very hard, and I am going to need all the support I can get.
So I pledge now - for me, for my child, for our future.... I will lose 12 kilos by next Christmas.
I hated the way I looked in our christmas photos this year. Next year I want to smile and be proud in the photos of these incredibly special moments.
My dear friend knows about my struggle with committing to a goal - so she sent me the SMART goals outline - Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Results Orientated, Timebound. So here is my SMART goal analysis....
S - Specific : I will lose 12 kg by changing my diet and lifestyle in a way which I consider sustainable as a long term healthy way of living.
M - Measureable : My target is 12 kg body weight. I am doing body measurements at the gym next week so I will form some concrete body shape goals as well then.
A - Achievable : 12 kgs over 12 months is a realistic rate of sustainable weight loss which will allow for some periods of "time out" or reward for hard work without the overall goal being threatened.
R - Results Oriented : It’s the result that counts, not the intent. No excuses. No rewards for "being good" unless it shows on the scales.
T - Timebound : I am not doing a radical 12 week program, or expecting immediate miracles. Over 12 months I will change my lifestyle and set new habits and patterns for myself and my family. But I have a specific time target - I can clearly visualise Christmas Day next year... me, 12 kilos smaller and feeling proud - celebrating not just my child's second christmas, but my own success - celebrating my self honouring, my commitment to myself and my health, my ability to set a goal and do what it takes to reach it.
This I will do.
This I pledge.
So I have written before on words... words to which we give the power to turn our feelings, to turn our heads, to turn us into different aspects of ourselves. What is in a word? Some would say it is empty of any meaning but that which we project onto it. A collection of letters, mere squiggles on a page, a formation of air vibration in an eardrum, it is in itself meaningless independent of the life experience it evokes. So how do I feel when the life experience does not match the words? How do I take back the meaning from the words, render them unimportant? Can I focus on the life experience independent of the words? Can I trust what I feel over the words that I hear? These are the questions with which I amuse myself in my moments of quiet... in the calm of contemplation. I know what I would like to answer.... but will I always hold firm to this?
So our first trip to the beach was a little overwhelming for my angel... I guess as big people its easy to forget that as a little person the world as we know it is a very big place... and then the beach, the ocean, well its enough to make one feel a little serious and contemplative of one's place in life. I am sure my angel will come to love it in time...
So I recently submitted an assignment... I was busy and distracted by life... I struggled to consider study a priority compared to spending time with my gorgeous child, keeping on top of the daily chores, catching up with lovely friends, enjoying the bursting of spring in the garden, and generally sucking the juices of life. To sit down at a computer and write about first world political manipulation of the third world through aid just seemed, well, a bit removed from the delicious realities of my daily world... so I moaned and I pouted and I finally slapped something together that I knew was a huge compromise on what I was capable of doing. I winced as I read over it at 4:50pm on the day it was due. I crossed my fingers that it would pass, and hit send. Friends tried to reassure me that it was probably better than I thought it was...but I insisted that "no"...this time I really had done a bodgy job. I consoled myself with the rationale that really, at the moment, a pass was all I really wanted.
I have often enjoyed debates with friends about why it is that lesbian and gay relationships are typically short lived. We are surrounded by the straight married myth of ever-lasting love...and it is glaringly obvious that we, as a sexuality, fall far short of this fairy tale. In vain do we quote divorce rates in the general population - the fact remains that most of us know very few gay or lesbian couples who have stood the test of time. In fact, in my personal experience, this is doubly so for lesbians compared to gay men...then again, perhaps the boundaries of love are looser in many gay male long-lasting relationships. My only fall back is that we lack both the binding rituals and the role models that inspire the "til death do us part" partnering. Tonight in a fit of procrastination of the uni assignment I should be writing I came across Stephen Fry's letter to himself - "dearest absurd child"... it is a wonderful read, highly recommended.... and I include the following excerpt :
learning over and over again that allowing someone to help me/us does not necessarily mean that I am incapable, or that anyone views me that way. I am learning that it is ok to accept support even when I could/would be able to do it myself.... I am learning that accepting support does not need to threaten me or make me seem like a needy person. I am realising again that closeness is about balance, and that warmth from others does not necessarily need to be earned by doing, it can be earned by appreciatively receiving. I am reminded that friendship is about equality and mutuality. I am learning, again, the lesson of the kindness of receiving.
of children that they teach us to laugh at things and moments we would otherwise have missed out on... like the fun of throwing a container on the floor for mummy to pick up - what a bang it makes! and then, wow!, the even greater thrill of getting it stuck on your foot! How strange and wonderful!
A moment of contemplation from my angel... I can hear her thinking "gird your loins mum, this is getting serious now!..."
d my goal of having a flourishing veggie garden from which I eat happily, tasting the sweetness of knowing that the food was grown by my hands. I have achieved my goal of flourishing pots of aromatic herbs and flowers, with clusters of lush growth lining my front balcony. And yet these are temporary, removable. They grow, are enjoyed, and end.
wing that they mean so much more than citrus to me. Fruit trees say that I have put down roots. Fruit trees say that I am planning for the day when my daughter will learn where food comes from by picking her own. Fruit trees say that I have a future - one which I can see and feel and imagine. Fruit trees say that I have a home.
g to catch taxi's in the middle of the night and set my heart and body on fire. I have known love which became my whole world in the moment our eyes met, which burned brightly until it became molten and then set solid, and which only cracked under extraordinary life stress. I have known love that ripped and pinched, yet hung on grimly. I have known love which dined on illusion and left the table still hungry. I have known love which was for no rational reason and yet stood strong despite the currents dragging me in their undertow. I have known love which was for all the right reasons, which smouldered long on possibility and was slow to catch fire. 
May happiness touch your life today as warmly as you have touched the lives of others. Rebecca Forsythe
