Tag Archives: health

When cliches start to make sense…

Why are we all so scared of getting old?

It’s easy to ward off the flab and the bad health if you just go to the gym and eat healthily – as for wrinkles and sag, I think I’d rather look natural than inflated.

I feel myself getting more and more comfortable in my skin. Life teaches you some tough lessons as you gather responsibilities. All those old cliches begin to make sense.

Be yourself. This drove me insane as a teenager because who the hell was I? Who did I want the world to think I was? Now I know what makes me happy, what’s important to me, what I will stand up for and what makes me uncomfortable. I’ve learned that ignoring these things bothers me for days. Don’t you hate that feeling of ‘God I wish I’d said something’? So now I do. (most of the time)

Beauty is only skin deep. I never even understood this phrase – like how deep is skin? Now I’ve met enough boring beauties and handsome arseholes to get it. People whose beauty conforms to 21st century standards are rarely good company. In my experience they’re pretty low in self-confidence and fairly draining to be around.

Just ignore the bullies. Yeah – cos that was possible in the playground. There was one lunchtime though, age nine, when I was in the firing line, and I leaned through the gate to talk to the lollipop man. He was elderly and hilarious – full of stories. Now I know there is ALWAYS someone to talk to, if you just look around. Bullying is a fact of life – people abuse power absolutely everywhere – so you might as well hone your coping mechanisms. I’ve also figured out that, when someone is upsetting you, think about the worst thing they could do and make your peace with it. Their power over you vanishes. I had a boss whose relentless demands nearly made me ill. When I realised that if she fired me I had genuine options, I stopped letting her get to me. I also developed those options and handed in my notice.

Love yourself. Ooft. Now if I had the answer to this one I’d call myself the Messiah. I think women in particular are very bad at being nice to themselves. I have this one friend who’s like a mirror. She and I beat ourselves up about things and turn to each other for comfort. One day we realised we would never speak to each other in the tone of our internal monologues, so we resolved to change. I’m incredibly lucky to have a husband who’s adored me since I was 17 so I’ve always had a foundation of ‘if this wonderful guy loves me that much, I must be OK’. Of course the devil on my shoulder reminds me I didn’t date very much so maybe no one else would have had me. I think, as I work through challenges and counsel friends through hard times, I’m realising how powerful love really is.

It’s all water under the bridge. This once vague concept has become pretty central to it all, really. The bridge is our path through life – sometimes it feels strong and sturdy, other times it sways slightly and, let’s face it, on occasion it feels like it will be washed away by the torrent. It’s all about how you perceive the river. I try very hard to keep my bridge strong and fortify it with the people I love and the things that make me happy. Everything else I consign to the water and let it wash away. It’s not allowed to stick to my bridge. Sometimes I have to make a conscious effort to scrape away the flotsam and jetsam. I guess it’s like the Forth Road Bridge. I’ll never be finished painting it.

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The One Week Vegan Challenge

I love meat.

The vegan lifestyle was something I was always aware of but paid no attention to – a bit like Morris dancing.

Over the last year I’ve become more conscious of food choices. We discovered the Wee Man was gluten intolerant, then about six months later Rod accepted he was too. I have two close friends who, over the same period, have been through hell with their newborns, only to trace it to a dairy intolerance. What is going on? Are we simply becoming more aware of allergies? Or is there something up with the food chain?

I’m a journalist, not a conspiracy theorist. I like facts. I know how high the food standards are in the UK, in comparison to many other countries. In Scotland, in particular, we have an amazing larder and wonderful farms offering full traceability. And yet modern society demands convenience and cheap solutions – so there are bound to be consequences for the health of the animals who provide our food.

My wonderful friend Mags, who’s always been vegetarian and a campaigner for animal rights, last week went vegan. Talking to her on the phone was kind of eye-opening. I was honest with her – I wasn’t going to watch the documentaries or read the horror stories. Neither was I prepared to give up meat and dairy for good, because I love them. What I did want to do was educate myself. What does being vegan entail? How easy is it to find alternatives and make moral choices? So I’ve set myself a challenge.

I’m going to go vegan for one week.

I’m not going to force it on my family, but I will try to integrate it where it’s practical.

I’ve done a big food shop – online so I could find the right stuff easily – and I’ve done a bit of research into vegan recipes. It’s the Easter holidays so it’s either the best or the worst time to try this… Tomorrow I’m going to drop off KD at nursery then the Wee Man and I are off on an adventure with a packed lunch. Mine is two seeded rolls with houmous, spinach and cucumber – no butter – , his is a GF wrap with grated cheese and salad cream. We each have an apple, a banana and an Alpro chocolate dessert, plus a box of carrot and celery sticks. It’s a colourful lunchbox.

My overnight oats are soaking in almond milk, so breakfast is easy, but I’m really going to miss my coffee in the morning. I mean I can try it with almond milk, but I’ll probably have to substitute peppermint tea. Well, I like peppermint tea, so maybe I’ll be OK.

My goals this week are:

  • to succeed in eating only vegan food for seven days
  • to drink loads of water
  • to avoid alcohol
  • to record how my body reacts – specifically improvements in sleeping and mood – but any difference to my skin, weight or general well-being will be very interesting to monitor.

Just as well I had a barbecue and meat overload today, not only am I all proteined up, I have three baked potatoes left over which will probably turn into three dinners. What on earth am I getting myself into?

Wish me luck!

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2012 and the Turning Point

I was on my first walk with the pram joyously uncovered by plastic today, when I passed the beautician, stopped, reversed and made an appointment for a Saturday morning pedicure.

I can’t remember the last time I did something so impulsive for myself – I’ve been my own lowest priority for a year now. That sounds pathetic – I don’t mean it like that – I just wondered why I was so excited about booking a pedi, and that’s what occurred to me. I’ve realised that 2011 really was the year when my body and I took a break from each other.

January to March were the last – and most uncomfortable- months of my pregnancy. I just rotated the same seven outfits and accepted I couldn’t rush around as usual. The wee man’s appearance on March 28 was actually a wonderful experience and gave me real respect for my body,  but for the next five months I was breast feeding – and all the kerfuffle that entails.

Then it was September, I was back to work and trying to figure out how the hell to balance it all. Buggy Bootcamp began at the end of October and then, mid-December, I had The Weigh-In.

I suppose it wasn’t until January 3rd, the day of the Great Wardrobe Clearout, that I realised my body and I were reunited. The defining moment was slipping into my pre-pregnancy skinny jeans. I say slipping because the zipper actually fastened easier than it had in June 2010. I’m not ashamed to tell you I jumped on the bed then bounced down the stairs to squeak at Rod that I was back! I have managed to hold off the Christmas/New Year poundage and I can begin the new year with the beautiful cliché of a new me.

 

 

 

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