Mum's here. Awesome.
For fuck's sake. This is the third time I've tried to write this entry. I keep pressing the wrong key, and that takes me back a page, so I lose everything I've written. COMPLAIN.
ANYWAY, I'm at the stage now where I never have to remind myself of how much I love my mother. She's incredible, as a person and as a parent, in many ways. She's loving (in her own way), she's fun, she trusts me SO much more than other people's mums (ie. she knows that she has no reason not to trust me, because I'm so much better than she was at my age. She in fact told me this evening that she considers me boring... which is really nice, actually. Nice to know that not getting hammered every weekend is considered boring in my mother's eyes. Those are some standards she's got going there). She's pretty much more of a friend than she is a parent these days, except she still financially supports me.
But, my God. The things she says sometimes. Here are a few choice conversations of the evening:
Me: There's this woman who's created a hoodie, and on it it says "does my FAT arse look fat in this?". I really want one.
Mum: You don't have a fat arse though (to clarify, she's right. I'm very apple-y)
Me: Yeah, but it's the principle of the thing.
Mum: Mmm, well, as for me, I have this *grabs her roll of stomach fat; something i REALLY FUCKING HATE HER DOING* which isn't quite as much as yours, but still, it's there.
Me: Well, we're all different.
Mum: Yeah, but considering how little I eat I really shouldn't have this *grabs it AGAIN*
Mum: So I reckon we should go for a walk every morning, for about an hour.
Me: OK.
Mum: And then we can do some French study, but only if you like.
Me: (somewhat bemused that there was no possibility to decline the walk option) Yeah, well, it's Linguistics, so I'll be interested.
Mum: Christopher (brother) was surprised that Grandma and Grandpa sleep in separate beds now. It's not like she should be there toughing it out when she's got the equivalent of a high-powered chainsaw going into her ear all bloody night long.
Me: hehe. I wonder how long it'll take for me to be kicked out, considering how badly I snore at the moment.
Mum: Well, if you lose some weight you wouldn't snore so loudly.
Me: I'm never going to lose weight.
Mum: Yes you will! Of course you will! (trying to be supportive)
Me: I might lose some if I stop overeating, if that's what I do. But if I don't, that's OK.
Mum: *doesn't appear to be listening*
In all fairness to her, I wouldn't mind going for walks, since I do want to do some exercise. Walking with a mother who spends a lot of her time prattling on about how unfit/fat she is, and how unfair it is that she's fat, at least, considering how little she eats, isn't really what I would dub the funnest most awesomest exercise I've ever known, but I suppose it'll keep her cheerful. She likes exercising with other people (by which she means me, right now, because Nicholas is probably beyond the bike-riding-with-her stage and I'm the placid daughter that gets roped in to these things), whereas I kind of, like, really fucking hate exercising with her, because she craps on about that sort of shit rather than enjoying getting some fresh air and getting her heart rate up and feeling how great her muscles feel when she's moving them and all of that nice stuff.
As for my snoring, admittedly I would snore less if I lost weight. Problems with sleep is one of the few things that, I believe, is unbiasedly (I know that's not a word but you know what I'm saying) scientifically proven as more problematic in fat people. But the thing is... well, there's two things. One, thin people snore too (no, really), and Two, knowing that my snoring will lessen if I lose weight, isn't going to make me lose weight. NOTHING will make me lose weight, probably. That's just scientific fact. I refuse to pollute my body with medications that are known to cause heart attacks, and I ABSOLUTELY refuse to get weight-loss surgery, because I'm too scared. I'm too scared of the side effects, and I'm too scared of the very real possibility that it won't work. It's just not worth it to relieve a bit of loud snoring (particularly when there are other treatments for loud snoring available), or to prevent the one or two diseases that obesity actually does pose a risk for (again, alternative treatments). Fatness is NOT an illness. The way people view fatness is the real illness here.
What does my mother want me to do? Eat like her? Uhh, no thanks. I like eating well every now and then, you know? I like having as many as three meals a day (drastic, I know). You know what else I like? I like exercising, because it's fun. I like clothes shopping, because I like finding clothes that suit me and wearing different outfits and walking around feeling like I'm good looking, every once in a while. I like getting my hair done, when the hairdresser doesn't insist on chopping all of my hair off (which is a rarity, and I'm due for another of those horrendous hair appointments soon), and I like that I'm on the way towards being able to move on from the utterly pathetic pedestrian plebian practice of bemoaning my fatness. It's not like complaining is going to make the weight magically fly away. Hell, things that are SUPPOSED to make the weight magically fly away don't work, so why in the name of arse would complaining do the job?
I might have to tell my mother at some point while she's here that I can't listen to her talk of dieting and weight loss any more, and I certainly can't deal with her saying that I need to worry about dieting and weight loss too. I've abused my body with that bullshit for way too long. What possible benefit could I gain from continuing to abuse my body? Losing weight? Unlikely. DIETS DON'T WORK.
ANYWAY, I'm at the stage now where I never have to remind myself of how much I love my mother. She's incredible, as a person and as a parent, in many ways. She's loving (in her own way), she's fun, she trusts me SO much more than other people's mums (ie. she knows that she has no reason not to trust me, because I'm so much better than she was at my age. She in fact told me this evening that she considers me boring... which is really nice, actually. Nice to know that not getting hammered every weekend is considered boring in my mother's eyes. Those are some standards she's got going there). She's pretty much more of a friend than she is a parent these days, except she still financially supports me.
But, my God. The things she says sometimes. Here are a few choice conversations of the evening:
Me: There's this woman who's created a hoodie, and on it it says "does my FAT arse look fat in this?". I really want one.
Mum: You don't have a fat arse though (to clarify, she's right. I'm very apple-y)
Me: Yeah, but it's the principle of the thing.
Mum: Mmm, well, as for me, I have this *grabs her roll of stomach fat; something i REALLY FUCKING HATE HER DOING* which isn't quite as much as yours, but still, it's there.
Me: Well, we're all different.
Mum: Yeah, but considering how little I eat I really shouldn't have this *grabs it AGAIN*
Mum: So I reckon we should go for a walk every morning, for about an hour.
Me: OK.
Mum: And then we can do some French study, but only if you like.
Me: (somewhat bemused that there was no possibility to decline the walk option) Yeah, well, it's Linguistics, so I'll be interested.
Mum: Christopher (brother) was surprised that Grandma and Grandpa sleep in separate beds now. It's not like she should be there toughing it out when she's got the equivalent of a high-powered chainsaw going into her ear all bloody night long.
Me: hehe. I wonder how long it'll take for me to be kicked out, considering how badly I snore at the moment.
Mum: Well, if you lose some weight you wouldn't snore so loudly.
Me: I'm never going to lose weight.
Mum: Yes you will! Of course you will! (trying to be supportive)
Me: I might lose some if I stop overeating, if that's what I do. But if I don't, that's OK.
Mum: *doesn't appear to be listening*
In all fairness to her, I wouldn't mind going for walks, since I do want to do some exercise. Walking with a mother who spends a lot of her time prattling on about how unfit/fat she is, and how unfair it is that she's fat, at least, considering how little she eats, isn't really what I would dub the funnest most awesomest exercise I've ever known, but I suppose it'll keep her cheerful. She likes exercising with other people (by which she means me, right now, because Nicholas is probably beyond the bike-riding-with-her stage and I'm the placid daughter that gets roped in to these things), whereas I kind of, like, really fucking hate exercising with her, because she craps on about that sort of shit rather than enjoying getting some fresh air and getting her heart rate up and feeling how great her muscles feel when she's moving them and all of that nice stuff.
As for my snoring, admittedly I would snore less if I lost weight. Problems with sleep is one of the few things that, I believe, is unbiasedly (I know that's not a word but you know what I'm saying) scientifically proven as more problematic in fat people. But the thing is... well, there's two things. One, thin people snore too (no, really), and Two, knowing that my snoring will lessen if I lose weight, isn't going to make me lose weight. NOTHING will make me lose weight, probably. That's just scientific fact. I refuse to pollute my body with medications that are known to cause heart attacks, and I ABSOLUTELY refuse to get weight-loss surgery, because I'm too scared. I'm too scared of the side effects, and I'm too scared of the very real possibility that it won't work. It's just not worth it to relieve a bit of loud snoring (particularly when there are other treatments for loud snoring available), or to prevent the one or two diseases that obesity actually does pose a risk for (again, alternative treatments). Fatness is NOT an illness. The way people view fatness is the real illness here.
What does my mother want me to do? Eat like her? Uhh, no thanks. I like eating well every now and then, you know? I like having as many as three meals a day (drastic, I know). You know what else I like? I like exercising, because it's fun. I like clothes shopping, because I like finding clothes that suit me and wearing different outfits and walking around feeling like I'm good looking, every once in a while. I like getting my hair done, when the hairdresser doesn't insist on chopping all of my hair off (which is a rarity, and I'm due for another of those horrendous hair appointments soon), and I like that I'm on the way towards being able to move on from the utterly pathetic pedestrian plebian practice of bemoaning my fatness. It's not like complaining is going to make the weight magically fly away. Hell, things that are SUPPOSED to make the weight magically fly away don't work, so why in the name of arse would complaining do the job?
I might have to tell my mother at some point while she's here that I can't listen to her talk of dieting and weight loss any more, and I certainly can't deal with her saying that I need to worry about dieting and weight loss too. I've abused my body with that bullshit for way too long. What possible benefit could I gain from continuing to abuse my body? Losing weight? Unlikely. DIETS DON'T WORK.