The Secret Life Of A Morbidly Obese Lunatic

This is my 5th attempt at typing this post. (Insert facepalm emoji here)

It was meant to happen Wednesday evening after the day from hell, then at numerous times throughout the week, but many things have stopped me from finishing the whole thing; from re reading it thinking it sounds to wingey, to feeling too tired to complete it to feeling way too ill. So, now I have about 4 drafts of this waiting for me to get my act together. My first draft (on Wednesday), contained far too many swear words for my liking and I wasn’t sure how that would go down with any readers I had, so hopefully, now I’m in a calmer state, I’ll only drop a couple of naughty words here and there:)

The week that has just gone by has been so incredibly stressful with illness (mine and my parents), having to literally take charge of everything while my dad couldn’t leave the house, get through a week at work and my trip to Devon last weekend. It’s been a crazy week and now I’m suffering with the ME. I really resent that after a week of basically doing my duties as a daughter and looking after my parents and running errands and doing chores, that I fall ill myself and am confined to bed with sickness and dizziness and extreme tiredness. Pathetic. I hope it doesn’t make people think I can’t handle things, because I can, deep down, it’s jut my stupid ME that overrides all of that.

In other joyful news, I am officially awful at blogging. It’s ages since I last posted anything and I’ve half considered packing the whole thing in, but then I remember how much I’ve spent on getting it right and suddenly the want to continue returns. Plus I have realized in the past few weeks just what I could do with my blog if I really make an effort to focus on it. But to be perfectly honest, by the time I get to sit down in front of my laptop in peace and quiet, I’m so exhausted I can’t bring myself to type or think! I’m unsure how I’m going to get round this but I am determined as there is much more to come in the story of What Amy Did Next and I really want to share that with readers.

A lot has been happening in the world of Amy lately, and there’s one massive piece of news I have which I’ll be sharing in a blog post very soon! My diary is and has been pretty full I’m pleased to say, but there’s always that part of me which feels guilty for leaving my family to go off and do things. They don’t mind at all, but they do rely on me somewhat so it’s always a bit daunting telling them I’m not going to be there for a weekend. I spent last weekend in Devon to see my friends and celebrate a late birthday with one of them. It was a fun weekend and I managed to do new things which had previously been way out of my comfort zone. But I survived and have come out the other side having learnt things so I see this as a positive.

I have a work meeting coming up next week in a place I’ve never been before and I have to get up at stupid o’clock to leave the house by 6 am to get a train by 7 am. It’s also on the day my mum goes for a dental operation so I’m now feeling guilty about that and will be having numerous amounts of kittens while I’m so far away. The operation was originally booked for the day after the meeting but they’ve changed it last-minute. Poo bags to that!

At the end of the month I have a spa weekend with my best friend from Devon, which is a seriously new experience for me and one I am slightly dreading. Not only does it mean exposing an awful lot of my body I’m really unhappy with at the moment, it also means letting strangers give me a massage and a facial (?) while my friend holds me down and ensures I don’t kick and scream my way through it. I’m hoping I’ll enjoy it and not be all self-conscious and prudish, but there is that streak in me. I’ll probably appear on the 6 o’clock news with the headline: “Hysterical Lunatic Sectioned After Kicking Masseuse In Shins In What Staff Are Calling Their Worst Client To Date”.

I’m also on a diet. God help my poor starving, confused, depressed soul. Enough is quite enough now and having reached the ghastly point last week when upon showing my mother the swimming costume I’ve bought for the spa things, she goes “My god Amy, that could fit the bloody gas works”, I have decided that I am sufficiently over the bastard break up to finally stop stuffing my face with anything edible with the excuse of, I sodding well deserve it OK?

Now I’m a very good two stone heavier than I was after said break up and about two dress sizes up, I figure now’s the time I stop with the comfort eating and get my arse in shape before I end up on one of those ridiculous reality tv shows for the obese and useless. God, I’ll probs feature on the next tear jerking series of “Too Fat To Leave The House” where steaming hot firefighters are craning me out of my room through the roof while I’m there, donut in one hand, takeaway menu in the other… Plus, I need to get immensely fit for this big thing that’s happening in July which I’ll tell you about in a post coming very soon! So, not only does this whole healthy diet thing benefit my health, but it means my roof won’t need to be ripped off a few years down the line.

Yay me!

 

My Holiday In Devon & The Tragedy Of Dining Alone…

20th June 2015

Yesterday, I returned home from my week in North Devon with my wonderful friends.

The train journey there had started off rather dramatically, and I always welcome drama, when on the opposite platform, a man was taken away by police… It attracted, as expected, quite a lot of attention from fellow train-riders and I pretended to be absorbed in my book about Bletchley Park, but peeped over my glasses the whole time to gawk at the welcomed altercation!

That was all over fairly quickly, which was a shame but in hindsight, quite fortunate as if it had carried on until my train arrived, I probably would have stayed to carry on spying!

So yes, I got on the train a couple of minutes later and the hoards of loud people in groups also boarded too, much to my disappointment. A group of men in there 30’s and 40’s had been gathering round on the platform, clearly excited for whatever rowdy, drunken event that was about to take off.

And only a few meters apart from them, was an age matching group of women, dressed in matching t-shirts, making just as much noise, just as excited and also getting on the same train…

I reluctantly boarded a carriage and made my way in true disgruntled fashion down the narrowest alley way I’d ever known in a train.

The carriage was packed and so was the luggage rack, so with weekend bag and rucksack in hand, I squeeze messily into a seat by the window, and begin to pray I’m not going to be joined by any of the rowdy lot or a pervy letch!

I thought my luck had been chucked at me 10 fold when it seemed like everyone had found their own seat successfully and I was left with a whole seat next to me! My thoughts were confirmed when the train started moving slowly out of the station and a small, smug but victorious smile crept on to my face as I proudly placed my own luggage into the seat beside me.

Chuffed with my unexpected solitude, I decided that then was a good point to eat my egg sandwich I’d bought, as let’s face it, no one wants to be sat next to anyone eating an egg sandwich on a small train… And that was when it hit me, when I was at my most smug… I was travelling backwards…

That’s when my hand grasped egg sandwich came to a halt mid munch, a churning feeling in my stomach appeared and the words “only I could travel backwards on a train while trying to eat an egg sandwich” came into my head.

And then, just to add to my horror, my head slowly turned round, egg sandwich still planted in my mouth, to see this young girl smiling gleefully back at me, with not a smile of amusement, but a smile of no holds barred pity.

So after dealing with apparent trespassers who were somewhere between where the train was and the next station, the driver picked up full speed and I arrived a little calmer than when I started, just after lunch and waited for my friend to pick me up.
The first evening was spent on the beach with Prosecco, music and lots of giggles and I felt as free as a bird. We were listening to music from The Zac Brown band, who I found a few summers ago and their music fitted so perfectly for our evening on the beach and the words in the song rang so true for me at that moment.

For a girl who has never had more than one and a half glasses of wine before, the three Prosecco’s I’d had by the time the sun was setting on the beach, we’re definitely taking hold of me and the evening danced by with a light hearted frivolity. Pictures, giggles, dancing, singing and spending time with two of the nicest people I know. I felt truly lucky and very grateful for that evening and its San be perfect start to my week.

The rest of the week there passed very well, with explorations of the town and shops, a spontaneous trip to the local museum which turned out to be very interesting and I had a lovely chat with one of the ladies who volunteers there. I went to the beach again by myself and wrote my post cards, thought at one point I was going to be gobbled up by a dog, who just wanted to say hello, managed to get half the beach on my skin after caking myself in sun cream, and was sat there for a good two hours with my late grandma’s tartan umbrella to keep the sun off me. I must have looked like something from The Darling Buds Of May!

 


However, things took a bit of a nose dive on Tuesday lunchtime, when I found myself in a restaurant for lunch, in town…
I’d walked in the door and was greeted by a young girl who had rings on all fingers, red hair and was thin as a rake… Who promptly blurted for all the restaurant to hear, ‘Table for one?’

And that’s when it hit me. I hadn’t actually prepared myself for dining alone and the tragedy that comes with it.

No, I had been used to walking in proudly with my beau, waiting to be walked to a table for two and then going on to enjoy having company while I ate and moaned about everything I didn’t like with where we were. A favourite pass-time of mine.

But now, in a frenzied, tear-filled gaze, I was being led to a massive table at the window which felt like it played a part in the Banquet in Macbeth. All the time, I was being paraded to the village outside and my loneliness and raising level of uncomfortableness was being cast in an exhibition titled, ‘The Tragedy of Heartbreak’.

So, I sat there, sipping my new favourite drink Elderflower Bubbly, waiting 45 minutes for my food to arrive.

During that time, I had to endure every table in my sight containing smug couples, one table of which right opposite me, acting very loved up and kept looking my way in confused pity. I had to stop myself from glaring at them but their brazen public displays of affection were getting the better of me.

And then my distressed brain tuned into the music that was playing through the speakers. A medley of sad songs continued to pour out all the time I was there and I spent the entire time fighting back tears in public, once again.

There was no escaping, I’d ordered food, hadn’t paid for my drink, not to mention starving. I was trapped in the love torture pit of hell and I felt like everyone could see me squirming, everyone knew how sad and low I was. Horrifyingly humiliating, but in recent months, not something I’ve been a stranger to.

After a hideous wait, 45 minutes later, my food arrived and I was bitterly disappointed. It was a linguini carbonara and it was swimming in oil. By that point I had lost my appetite anyway, and with the amount of oil I was having to consume, I plonked my fork down mid meal, huffed loudly and sunk back into my seat tearing up and feeling queasy.
After paying and being polite enough to not moan about the quality of my experience there despite it bringing me to tears and queasiness, I made a hasty retreat and fled back to my friends house where I spent the afternoon feeling incredibly sorry for myself and yes, I watched The Jeremy Kyle Show.

One of my lowest points.

And it began to dawn on me that the more time I spent by myself, the more I was starting to think about him again, the lower I was feeling.

By Thursday night, I was a teary wreck again and needed to get things out of my system. Which I did thanks to my heroic friend who drove us up a hill at night to view the sea and talk. It lifted me so much by the following lunchtime and I returned home feeling a lot more at ease and settled again with my feelings.
The things I learnt while on my holiday, are pretty different to what I thought I would. I learnt that being by yourself at home isn’t always a good thing, I learnt that dining alone really isn’t something to launch straight into if you’re newly single with a broken heart, I learnt that friends are your life line sometimes and I am incredibly lucky to have some that care about me along with my family, and I also learnt that caking yourself in that much sun cream will only ever result in looking like a colourful version of the sand man.
An enlightening week which ended perfectly by being greeted at the station at home by my dad who took my bags from me and gave me a hug:)

I should be keeping a Gratitude diary from now on as I really am starting to notice the little and big things people do.
Not a changed woman yet, but a woman who is doing things she didn’t think she could do and who is getting stronger by the day.
Amy 🌸