Today at work I was stood next to one of the skinny girls. She doesn’t think she’s skinny (either?) and someone commented “wow! You’re disappearing!”

Granted, I sit at my desk all day and don’t stand up as often as I should, but still.

I thought she was talking to the other girl – I grinned and nodded at her, then realised she was in fact talking about ME.


That was quite a nice thing to hear. I’ve had it quite a lot. It’s weird. I’m not used to people being nice to me. I don’t know what to say back! I shyly say “thank you” and inwardly think “but I’m still me… I really am not any different”.

I have to say, at first it felt good to lose all the weight, and seeing people’s surprised faces when they hadn’t seen me for months (my sister’s one was a picture) – and I’m enjoying buying clothes where I’m no longer an XL and more a M or L (depending on what it is). But it’s weird. It’s something I can’t get my head around.

I know it probably looked a bit braggy me going on about my weight loss over on Mum Friendly, but it was part of the campaign and to show it worked – for me – and I was back in control of things. I’ve let it lapse a bit, though we’re so active these days I’m sure I’m walking it off. This is the other side of it, the ‘no pressure to write anything but I am anyway’ side. It was such a personal thing to do and to share, and I know I never go into any great depth, I have to keep some of myself for me and not tell the world everything. The one thing which has remained constant is my weight – and that’s over two months.

I almost feel like there’s two of me. There’s the me I write about who did well losing weight and came out the other side and is keeping it off, and there’s the me who doesn’t believe it actually happened and how come the fat girl is wearing thin girl clothes and don’t be ridiculous I can’t be a 14, their labels must be generous or I look ridiculous from the back so I should bury myself in larger clothes.

See, that’s probably the difficult bit. You can lose the weight, get the haircut, buy the clothes and it all helps, but I can’t do anything to get a new personality. I’ll always be the one who gets talked over (and I’m as guilty as the next person of doing it and I apologise) and I don’t have it in me to shout back or tell people to listen, I’ll always be the insignificant one, but you know, I can live with that. It’s not my number one priority – me. If someone could just bop me on the head and tell me to stop being an idiot that would be great, but I’m not sure it’s a permanent fix. If someone could bop the people who do that on the head at the same time that would be appreciated too.

One thing the psychic reading told me last week was I don’t spend enough time with Shaun – just the two of us, a date night. We had a lovely day while H was at nursery on my birthday and enjoyed each others company. We wandered around the village, in the local shops and had nothing to rush around for, and it was great. All our spare time is eaten up with family time or meeting friends, and our ‘us’ time is non-existent (apart from films or tv nights at home). I’m not complaining, but I know we have to start thinking about getting out more and doing more things. Our first one in a year and a half will be our tenth wedding anniversary when we go to see The Breeders play. It’ll be our first gig together in almost four years.

That sounds crazy considering it was music which brought us together in the first place – had Kristin Hersh not sorted out that Throwing Muses gig in San Francisco, and had we not all persuaded Shaun to travel from Australia then we’d never have met twelve years ago. Thursday May 24th was the night we got together. Thursday June 19th was the day we got married. I was born on a Thursday too.

Thursday. Makes me think of this song by Morphine. This year I really will start to sort myself out.