I turned 26 on Sunday. I had a party. So many people turned up, I was amazed and touched. Just when I thought everyone I loved was in the same room, more people turned up. I had a wonderful night, struggled a tiny bit with anxiety brought on by being the centre of attention, but I feel like I did really well. A shiny purple cocktail or 3 might have helped me along there 🙂


I thought I’d do a blog post on the year that was. Its been a big year for me, an amazing year. So much has changed. Bear with me while I start from the beginning. Or do you bare with me? Either way, do it. When I was 24, I told my friends from all over australia that I was determined to lose heaps of weight that year, and for my 25th, I’d invite them all to a big party to celebrate. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. I’ve blogged before about the reasons and circumstances that led me to my decision to have weight loss surgery, but it just so happens that the surgery was about 2-3 weeks after my 25th birthday. As far as I can work out, I’m down to 120kg (ish, very ish) from the 158kg I was the day of surgery. In 12 months. I’ll update with more accurate figures tomorrow, I have a surgeon and dietician appointment in the morning, so will be great to weigh in on the same scale as I did all that time ago. Even if I don’t lose another kilogram, it will have been SO worth it. I still get miserable about not being able to eat much, my eating habits are still disordered, but I am healthy and so happy. I feel like now that the weight is a normal issue (and not an all encompassing one) I can get on with being a normal 25 26 year old. 26 year old women worry about their weight. They stress when their period is a few days late. They worry about money. They enjoy the company of their friends and family and strangers. They don’t have a constant internal dialogue about whether the words coming out of your mouth will make people think you’re a fat pig. Whether the way you’re sitting on a chair makes you look fat. Whether eating in public makes you look fat. Ironic really, given that I WAS fat, and no matter how I sat or talked or what I are in public, I did look fat, because I WAS fat. Now, I worry about whether what I’m wearing is flattering. That’s normal. I worry about whether what I eat in public is reasonably nutritious, or am I pigging out. That’s normal. To be honest, its often pigging out. That’s also normal? I have a friend who is currently being saintly with eating well, and eating smart. The woman turned down orange and poppyseed cake today, with chocolate icing. I’m convinced that’s not normal (but it may just be that I’m ever so slightly jealous and very proud of her.)


Time for a break, that was a long intense paragraph. Everyone take a deep breath and roll your shoulders to reset your posture, and we’ll begin again. This is also the year I met Boyfriend. Despite a rough start, things are going swimmingly now. I love him more everyday. Sure, sometimes I want to stab him in the eyeballs with red hot forks, but getting to know him and the man he is is so exciting on a daily basis. Actually, not so much the hot cutlery, but there are times I listen to what he’s saying or doing and panic a little, and wonder what on earth I’ve gotten myself into. Its like a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. But the more I get to know him, and understand how his complicated brain works, I work out the motivation behind why he says things, which helps. I’ve learned that looking for perfection is a sure fire way to end up disappointed and alone, because its unrealistic. As was discussed in a forum the other day with girlfriends, I’m learning to tell the difference between lowering my expectations to a realistic level, and selling myself short. I guess there’s no black and white answer, but he adores me and treats me like a princess, and I adore him, and despite our differing views on some subjects, we are both fully committed to the relationship. And, most importantly, we are enjoying it. I’m enjoying him. 12 months ago, even 7 months ago, I could not imagine that anyone would love me. I could barely stand the sight of my own body, and my self confidence was lower than you can possibly imagine, to the point where I judged myself for every word that came out of my head. Do you know how hard it is to be positive when everything you say and do makes you think “you are gross, and stupid, and unlovable.” Holy hell, please never let my daughters feel that way about themselves. Its true what they say about having to love yourself before anyone else can love you. It still blows my mind that he finds me so attractive, despite all the loose skin and weird bits, but he does. And because I can see the good parts in myself, I’m allowing others to see them too. Don’t get me wrong, I still struggle with self confidence, but on an ‘only slightly more crazy than most women’ level. Rather than a ‘scuse me while I stab myself in the brain to stop the voices’ level. And I stress that Boyfriend is wrong for me sometimes, but as BFF says, she’s been married a bazillion years and she still stresses that Husband is wrong for her sometimes. See? Ditch the concept of perfection, I highly recommend it.


Before my surgery (so just after my birthday) I had my house cleaned from top to bottom. We were literally living in squalor, and my PND and fatness were so bad, I couldn’t do anything about it. In about December, I needed to get them back to fix it again. But since then, I’ve got myself the cutest little cleaning lady, who comes once a fortnight, and if nothing else, keeps me honest. Now, the house is far from clean and tidy, and it still gets me down sometimes, but its liveinable, and my door can always be open for Boyfriend, and for anyone else that wants to swing by. I stress about my parents coming here because their standards are so much higher than mine, and its one of the things that still sends me spiralling into anxiety, but I acknowledge that’s definitely more about me than them. I can prepare healthy meals for my little family in the kitchen, the dishes are usually done and if not, its a 10 minute job to spruce up the kitchen. There are one or two rooms that are totally full of clutter, that one day I’ll get around to doing, but for the most part its a house that we can live in, Lovechild can play in. Its a house we can get romantic in, laugh in, and yep, live in. I’ve never thought of it as more than a roof over our heads before, but I love this little place and am proud of it. Boyfriend is a bit of a clean freak (see, told you we were opposites) but I’m gradually beating that out of him. And a house that can be lived in is SO much better for the mental and physical health than a clutter filled health hazard.


So now, 25 was good for me. What about 26? I think that’s another blog for another day. My bum is getting numb from sitting on it for so long. I think I’ll go clean the bathroom. LJ xx


PS: I think I MAY have a new reader. J, if you’ve made your way here via Bec’s blog, say hi. I’d love to have you as a reader, as long as you don’t mind me saying awful things about Boyfriend every now and then. I do love him, really ❤



1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Mandy
    Jun 16, 2011 @ 10:43:12

    It’s ok, I think your friends from all over Australia will come over for another of your parties one day 😉 It’s going to be a very good year!


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