So was having a ball last week, I must admit – verging on mini-holiday albeit for the eight hours chewing the cud that is revision and three hours frantic scribbling. To tell the truth I'm looking forward to my next exam! Bring on the firm-paid Travelodge and free sachets of decaff!
Anyway, yeah, so I have been off work the last week. Lazily rolling out of bed at 8am and going for a jog. It's a nice time to go provided you don't get soaked by hate-ridden bus drivers. I quite enjoyed getting it out of the way, having a shower and then having the rest of the day guilt-free. I had been toying with the idea of getting up early to go jogging before work for a good month now. Like I said the other day, I just got ants in my pants about doing something exercise-wise and it seemed like a – huh, I wouldn't say good idea...but you know what I mean.
So after this week of indulgent morning jogs I bit the bullet and decided that this Monday was gonna be the day I tried out the 6am wake up. And you know what? It was a freaking dream. Out by 6.15am, crisp dark morning, jogged for longer than ever, back in by 6.40am, stretch and shower. I was out of the house bang on time. What could be better? My mum, of course, told me I was 'mad' when I saw her this evening...but then again, this is the woman who told me thirty minutes of exercise three times a week (the government guideline for exercise, no less) was 'obsessive'. Yes, that's me: the food nazi fitness 'obsessive'. Haha, I'm actually laughing at that now!
My mum, by the way, has been official off the wagon (as in, not making me lie about her absence at Lighterlife) for over a month now. She has, however, taken to eating the odd foodpack occasionally and then reporting back to me on her good behaviour. Riiiight, well done Mummy. Just don't reward yourself with a bar of Galaxy. That's not how it works.
Oh, I had a heinous accident on Sunday morning. I stayed at A's for the first time and was getting rather excited about my new breakfast concoction (current favourite meal of the day). I was stood beside a counter holding a glass that said “moo bah oink” happily whisking away at the contents when all of a sudden beige milkshake goes fucking everywhere. WTF??? The glass had fricking shattered and my goddamn breakfast was all over the counter, the floor, me and worst of all a fiftieth birthday card for A's mum. Oh my days, the embarrassment. I didn't know what I felt worst about: breaking the glass, making such a mess or not being able to eat my yumtastic vanilla/coffee shake. I honestly can't remember the amount of times I looked at A while we cleaned up (he in what appeared to be a polite state of bewilderment) and said “Seriously, I've made like two of these every day for six months. This has never happened before. Oh my God, I am so sorry.”. Urgh. It was awful. Watch out girls!
Maybe I've been in ketosis too long but I keep getting these sporadic, gushing moments of entirely sincere thankfulness for the things I have. It is bizarre. Usually to myself. Usually when I'm by myself. I was sat in my car on the way home tonight saying 'I am so happy. I am so lucky. I love my job. I love my family. I love my studies. I love feeling good about myself. Everything is so positive. Lighterlife is fantastic. A is all I could ask for. I am achieving things I have always wanted to achieve.”. I had just filled my car with petrol though, so maybe the petrol fumes had got to me. Seriously, I am so not that kind of person. It's so weird, it's as if I get a tiny little glimpse in to what it'd be like to take ecstasy. Sheer giddiness and delight at how much there is out there to achieve. Fantastic Britain, glorious Lighterlife.
Fucking mental though I sound, it really is all down to Lighterlife. I used to have no goals before I started. I remember my counsellor telling us we had to set long-term and short-term goals at the beginning of Foundation and I was like 'Errrr...what's the point? I don't have any, so I'm not going to make them up for the sake of it.'. The thing is, I want to tell you that now I am really motivated by self-improvement, I enjoy it and it's because I have lost weight...but that doesn't even make sense to me because I don't understand how getting into a pair of size 14 jeans makes me want to fulfil my potential. You guys know I'm all into crazy stuff like veganism, running, studying...fuck loads.
Well, let's put it this way: all I know is that I went to town on Sunday and I bought a sports bra and a vegan cookbook. Thought nothing of it, that's just wanted I needed (the former) and wanted (the latter). If you told me that a year ago, I'd have laughed in your face because those things were only pipe dreams to me then. Fanciful things for idle moments that I'd never dream of actually attempting. (My pipe dreams also included living on a houseboat and getting a cat, so watch this space.)
I was thinking about what I said to you about people saying I was trying to restrict my food choices last night after reading the cookbook I bought (How It All Vegan by Tanya Barnard and Sarah Kramer, since you ask). See I guess if you think about food in the conventional sense, it would seem that way...BUT (and this is a big but) I haven't been thinking about food in the conventional sense for a good six months now. I read How It All Vegan and it excites me. I'm not thinking 'Oh God, how am I going to survive without scotch eggs, toffee crisps and macaroni and cheese?', I'm thinking 'I want to try making apple bran muffins and banana pancakes and vegetable stew and black bean salsa. I want to learn how to cook tofu. I want to eat miso.'. People see it as closing down on real life but I haven't been part of the real life for a long time. The way I see it, a whole world is opening up to me (must be those petrol fumes again). I am so eager to get going on this. Sorry Lighterlife people. I bet you google “How much does Lighterlife cost” or something and end up listening to me ramble on about fucking soybeans or some shit.
