If you want it, you just have to believe
I promised myself I would do two brave things today, and I have done those two brave things today.
I'm not going to give details on the first. It's neither the time, nor the place right now, and it may never be, so I'm just going to hug it to myself for now, and simply be pleased about the fact that I had the courage to do it.
The second - the second is a different matter. I've emailed a nutritionist today (recommended by my mum) to make an appointment.
I have two medical conditions that it is becoming abundantly clear I cannot manage on my own - PCOS and bulimia. The NHS is uninterested in giving me any help with either of them, and I've sat about pissing and moaning about it for long enough that I'm pretty sure everyone else is sick of it. So I figured it's time I make shift for myself and try and get on top of these conditions.
I suspect the bulimia is interlinked with the PCOS and the inability to lose weight. I go from one extreme eating plan to the next, one faddy fad to the next, cut out this, that, the other, exercise till I'm literally half dead with DOMS and exhaustion, and lose precisely zippedyfreakingdoodah.
So I must be doing something wrong. And it's not the exercise. QED, it *must* be the food - I *must* be eating the wrong things, in the wrong balance, in the wrong quantities or SOMETHING, and I need to see someone who is going to help me unpick this whole fricking mess I have gotten myself into.
I am 32 years old. I'm far too old to spend any more time sticking my fingers down my throat as though it gives me some kind of moral currency. And I'm far too old to continue to be fucking miserable with my body.
Every moment that I waste waiting for someone else to fix it for me, is another moment putting up with this pernicious condition in my life. There aren't enough moments in this life to waste on that.
On another note, my sister has asked me if I would be willing to be my niece's guardian should the worst ever happen to her and her husband. Apparently I was the top of their list. I am shocked and humbled (and really pleased that I was numero uno!). I'm thinking about it carefully as I don't want to give a knee-jerk response - my sister encouraged this. I want to be sure in my heart of hearts that I can commit to taking on a child should the worst ever happen. I like to think I could, but it's not something I feel I can say yes to without at least considering it. This may be a brave thing for another day. :)
I'm not going to give details on the first. It's neither the time, nor the place right now, and it may never be, so I'm just going to hug it to myself for now, and simply be pleased about the fact that I had the courage to do it.
The second - the second is a different matter. I've emailed a nutritionist today (recommended by my mum) to make an appointment.
I have two medical conditions that it is becoming abundantly clear I cannot manage on my own - PCOS and bulimia. The NHS is uninterested in giving me any help with either of them, and I've sat about pissing and moaning about it for long enough that I'm pretty sure everyone else is sick of it. So I figured it's time I make shift for myself and try and get on top of these conditions.
I suspect the bulimia is interlinked with the PCOS and the inability to lose weight. I go from one extreme eating plan to the next, one faddy fad to the next, cut out this, that, the other, exercise till I'm literally half dead with DOMS and exhaustion, and lose precisely zippedyfreakingdoodah.
So I must be doing something wrong. And it's not the exercise. QED, it *must* be the food - I *must* be eating the wrong things, in the wrong balance, in the wrong quantities or SOMETHING, and I need to see someone who is going to help me unpick this whole fricking mess I have gotten myself into.
I am 32 years old. I'm far too old to spend any more time sticking my fingers down my throat as though it gives me some kind of moral currency. And I'm far too old to continue to be fucking miserable with my body.
Every moment that I waste waiting for someone else to fix it for me, is another moment putting up with this pernicious condition in my life. There aren't enough moments in this life to waste on that.
On another note, my sister has asked me if I would be willing to be my niece's guardian should the worst ever happen to her and her husband. Apparently I was the top of their list. I am shocked and humbled (and really pleased that I was numero uno!). I'm thinking about it carefully as I don't want to give a knee-jerk response - my sister encouraged this. I want to be sure in my heart of hearts that I can commit to taking on a child should the worst ever happen. I like to think I could, but it's not something I feel I can say yes to without at least considering it. This may be a brave thing for another day. :)