Tag: love yourself

Fuck it attitude

For the past six months I have been busy. Busy with travel. Busy with friends and family. And then, busy personally. In my head I have been coming to terms with living in a bigger body. This has made my mind busy. 

I have always been big. I am an emotional eater. I eat when I’m happy. I eat when I’m sad. And I have PCOS which means regardless of what I eat and how much there is I will put on weight. it is also extremely difficult to lose weight. Way to mess with one’s mind eh?

Sugar. 

Fibre. 

Carbs.

It doesn’t matter.

Growing up in a bigger body meant I continually struggled with clothing and fitting (get it) in with the latest trends. But even then, I didn’t particularly like the trends of my childhood. The Schott jackets and short black skirts at school were just not my thing. I know now that if I had worn those items of clothing it would have been to fit in with everyone else and be worthy of those clothes because I fit in them. If I could have shrunk myself down maybe I would have felt normal. But then… If I didn’t want to wear the clothes others wore, would I have been their type of normal?

As my twenties turned into my thirties, I found that I drowned myself in big jumpers and jeans, which was a big step up from my dress and legging situation of a decade ago. Of course with the obligatory safety cardigan. That is until I started listening to a certain podcast, which I have mentioned before.

The aim of the podcast is to help everybody love themselves in the here and now without feeling the need to change something about themselves. Hence the name, ‘Go Love Yourself’. One early October Sunday morning saw Mr W and I wandering into our fast-becoming favourite haunt in Greenwich for breakfast and Mr W remarked on my strut into the dining area. I laughed nervously not knowing what he meant. Was I strutting? As we sat eating breakfast and sipping our caffeine hit, we talked about why I felt so comfortable. The fact of the matter was, I walked into a place I genuinely loved being, with the person who makes me walk tall and wearing my beloved black trench coat. Under said coat was a pair of khaki dungarees. It was a huge deal to be out in public in a pair of loose fitting trousers without a care in the world. Girls like me aren’t seen in dungarees. And yet there I was. The coat itself makes me feel good because it’s stylish without the price tag. I’ve had it for donkey’s years. It was then that the penny started to drop.  

Therefore in October, with holes in many of my clothes including my trusty stretchy jeans, Mr W said enough was enough and unleashed me online to buy clothes I actually liked the look of. My aim has always been to fit into clothes and not once have I stopped and wondered whether I have liked anything that I wear. In fact I have on occasion bought the same ugly top in every single colour it comes in for the pure reason of it fitting my body. Ironically I never asked myself whether the selling point of these items was the fact I liked the way it looked. I’ve never asked myself that question. The exception being my wedding dress. 

A big box of clothing turned up 4 weeks ago with various casual dresses, trousers and a rather cool hat. Mr W eagerly anticipated my transformation as I tried on each new item with disdain on my face. What on earth had I done?

This wasn’t me. Dark green waffle knit dresses. Carrot leg grey trousers. And the hat. Why the hat? I didn’t recognise this person. 

Fast forward to the 31st October when I mustered up the attitude to wear an outfit from my new capsule wardrobe for a day in London. We had a fancy meal booked using a voucher from my birthday in March, an exhibition booked at the Tate Modern and a talk at Cadogan Hall by Levison Wood, tickets I had gotten for Mr W for his birthday. It was a far cry from our usual days out in our capital city. 

I wore a burgundy dress with black tights, my new fedora hat, the trusty coat and some suede ankle boots. Team that with one of my favourite bags and I didn’t feel too bad. The hat was quite a statement piece in my eyes and I could feel the nerves of people looking at me creep in as we jumped on the underground into Liverpool Street. 

Training my eyes to watch the pavement as I walk has been a lifelong trait of mine and it’s normally to watch out for my clumsy feet. Only occasionally is it to avoid peoples glances at me. I would always wonder what they were thinking when they looked at me. Why are their eyes gazing at my neck, is it the double chin? They’re looking at my stomach, it’s too big isn’t it? You can imagine the pains I rotate through my head. 

And then, the second penny dropped. Regardless of what I wear, my chin and stomach will still be there. Why should I wear items of clothing that make me feel hidden away? When I can wear things that give me a bounce in my step because I actually like them.

Upon arrival at the restaurant, I was complimented on said hat. Smiling nervously I said thank you. Surely, he was just being nice. And yet several times throughout the day and days since I have received similar compliments. This is beyond strange to me. 

That evening, we listened to Levison Wood talk to us and the other audience members about his travel ethos. I was totally entranced and equally as shocked when my right arm extended upwards to be picked during the question and answer portion of the night. Someone else was picked and my arm was withdrawn rapidly in embarrassment. What was I thinking? How could I talk out loud in front of 900 people? They would all look at me. It had taken me the hour since the announcement had been made that there would be a Q&A to formulate a question and gather the guts to lift my limb, let alone actually speak. And yet as the questioning continued. My fuck it attitude kicked in, I scolded myself for thinking my question wasn’t as worthy as anyone else’s and I raised my arm again. This time I was noticed. I asked my question, Levison spoke back to me and I grinned nerdily as we maintained eye contact. 

I couldn’t believe it. That was me. The one speaking out loud. As the lights came up in the venue, Mr W smiled as he questioned what had gotten into me. It was highly unlikely for me to speak up in a room full of people I know let alone in an auditorium full of strangers. My only reasoning was that ‘fuck it’ had entered my mind and taken hold. 

With my new clothes I felt I had taken on a persona of someone with confidence. It is only now I realised that wearing ‘the real me’ was the fashion that fit me best. It will inevitably take time to adjust to wearing new clothes on the body I do not like and choosing not to hide it away. I deserve to feel good no matter my size. That is what the podcast has taught me. I’m just slower on the uptake than others. Or maybe just too scared at times. We met new friends from America in London the other day and we got to talking about introverts and extroverts. They were shocked to find that I am an introverted extrovert. One of them couldn’t believe the fact that I am mostly a shy person because I was so talkative. And yet wearing clothes I love, including the hat and coat, made the extrovert appear for a fun day out. It made me realise that the clothes I wear may not be a true reflection of who I am on the inside, but they are helping me push through a little more each day. 

Fuck it attitude and all.  

Go Love Yourself

Work it out. Take two.

Workout number three and it was time to ramp it up. Oh, less clothing means less sweat! Who knew?

Poised for action in shorts, a strappy top and trainers with one sock to cover up a semi-blister from yesterday’s mammoth 15,969 steps I was ready for the barbell.

Mr W wanted to add weight on the first workout and I point blank knew that my legs are really struggling with the barbell back squats. It was only yesterday that my legs felt normal after last week’s two workouts. I think Mr W believes I can do more. But I see this as a marathon not a sprint. 

Stepping up to the bar and moving downwards, my legs instantly refused to squat lower than I wanted to push them and the 7kg bar resting on my shoulders was the last thing on my mind. A set of 5×5 squats later and mind over matter was not present. My squatting resembled nothing similar to what I have seen from others online. Rome wasn’t built in a day. And I need to remind myself of this. One squat at a time. 

Next up, the barbell bench press, laying down feels good. After a busy day yesterday I could definitely have a nap. But no relaxing just yet. Mr W has fashioned a barbell rack out of some timber and even though he keeps an eye on me, ya know in case I drop the solid metal bar on my face, it allows the feeling for control over your whole space. He added two 1kg weights to the baras last week’s set proved really quite simple. Straightening my back on the bench to keep my shoulders level, I raised the new weight of 9kg above my face and into the sky. Counting to five, I only wobbled at ‘3’. The weight isn’t the issue, the control of the motion becomes wobbly at times. I am not coordinated. It is, however, fascinating to breathe in and out to calm your mind so it can guide your body to control its own muscles. It takes you inside your being. I am finding it more interesting than I thought I would. That is, until a flock of seagulls flew overhead and I found my eyes following them.

Barbell deadlift next, 7kg bar with an added 6kgs of weight. Hello 13kg. Kept my arms straight this time, Mr W pointed out the extra weight would help with this technique and it did. This set is still really boring. Although, I imagine with more weight, all in good time, this will become more challenging and therefore enjoyable. 

Barbell overhead press, 4kg was removed here, very smart considering the bar would be above my face while I stood beneath it. Up, down, up, down. All very good and almost… ah, I’m going to say it, fun. I found my control here at its best and therefore I was able to move my arms faster than the other workouts. This was also the case for the ‘row’ movements. 

It feels good to be moving my body, feeling the after effects and yet still really enjoying it. I am working with my body and I don’t feel like I am punishing it. I wonder if there will be a day when I look back at this and utter the words, ‘oh you naive fool.’

Work it out

As someone who needs to lose weight to qualify for fertility help from the NHS, who is trying to love herself and also keep exercising while keeping it as low impact as possible whilst recognising that it also needs to burn fat, you can imagine working out is really quite a challenge. 

The NHS wants my BMI to be lower in order for me to qualify for the next stage of fertility help. The medication I hope they give me will force my ovaries to release eggs at the opportune time in the hopes that I’ll fall pregnant. 

Having hated my body since I can remember I have recently discovered a podcast where loving yourself is the name of the game no matter what size and shape you are. (Link below) Their very motto is ‘the way you look is the least interesting thing about you’. As you can imagine it takes a lot to recondition your mind after 25+ years of self hatred. I’m no way near loving myself but I am starting to realise that my value has nothing to do with my weight. My thoughts, kindness and ability to love is not weighed on the bathroom scales. It is not in my dress size. I have touched on this before in my ‘Wear the damn shorts’ blog. (Link also below). Recently I have branched ever so slightly outside of my comfort zone when it comes to clothing. Granted I’m wearing dresses but I’m actually liking the clothes I am wearing rather than picking them just because they fit. 

Due to my everlasting need to find the best way to live with my Pcos I have spent a rather large amount of time on forums etc. There are pages of advice on supplements and tips to lessen the symptoms of this condition. One of the symptoms is weight gain and in order to control this weight there are several things you can try. There is no guarantee. If you want to lose weight there are many trialled and tested tips out there and you just have to see what works for you. Last year, Mr W and I conquered the NHS couch to 5k programme. I was so chuffed with myself. I finished without any wobbles. We restarted the programme this year and,  whether it was my body or mind, I simply could not do it. No amount of telling myself I had done it once before, meaning I could do it again, could break through the self doubt barrier and I stopped. I’ve looked closer at exercises and workouts I can do that won’t place stress on the cells of my bodys, causing more flare ups of this condition, and Mr W and I have started weight training. The key, apparently,is to do low impact workouts for a maximum of 15 minutes. No wonder running for up to 30 minutes wasn’t doing anything for me. Go figure. 

It is quite the conundrum. Love myself regardless of my weight. Change my weight to suit the bureaucracy of the NHS. And find the perfect exercise that will keep me interested, losing weight and my body stress free. 

Mr W compiled the below information for me to look at:

A 5×5 workout comprises compound barbell movements — like squats and deadlifts — using heavy weights and lower repetitions per set. As the name implies, a 5×5 workout usually involves 5 sets of 5 repetitions.

The goal is to build strength in compound movements by adding weight every time you do the workout. You’ll only do these workouts 3 times a week, as the rest days in between workouts are crucial to encouraging muscle growth.

The barbell movements are as follows:

barbell back squat

barbell bench press

barbell deadlift

barbell overhead press

barbell row

The combination of these movements works most of the large muscles in your body.

So if you are into weight training, the above will make sense to you and you may as well skip the next few paragraphs. So a barbell is a long bar of metal on which you can fix weighted discs of metal. Our barbell is 7kgs and while I get used to the exercises themselves we are just using the bar. In time, weight will gradually be added to increase the training. 

At present, Mr W does 5 reps of the first exercise, then I do 5, then him and so on until we have each completed the 5 sets of repetitions. Then we move onto the next exercise.  

Barbell back squat – this involves the bar being held around the back of your head, across the top of your shoulders while you squat. This workout is a bitch. After two sessions my muscles on the topside of my thighs are screaming! Walking up and down the stairs, even sitting down, is not fun right now, but I’m kind of glad of the pain. It makes me realise the workout is actually doing its thing! 

Barbell bench press – this one has you laying down on a workout bench and lifting the barbell up above your body and down again. So far, it’s not too bad, I’m not sure if my body is feeling the benefits and it may mean adding weights to the bar sooner rather than later. The biggest flaw right now is keeping the bar straight. All in good time!

Barbell deadlift – now, this move I could not get my head around. You are basically lifting the bar from ankle height (in the future when weights are on either end, the weighted bar will be able to sit on the ground) and lifting it to your hips. Keeping your arms straight and bringing your hips forward to meet the bar. It is supposed to loosen your hips. In our first session I couldn’t get my head around the straight arms before seeing that my back was also straight. In order to achieve the move, you need to slightly bend your back and knees. Before straightening fully. Today’s second session was much easier. Eureka!

Barbell overhead press – relatively easy now, but i know once weight is added, I’ll regret saying it. You stand straight and lift the bar from your shoulders straight up into the sky. As we stand in the garden, I am able to watch its progress as it meets the sky and my eyes line it up with the roofline of our house. Slow and steady.

Barbell row – so far this move has stumped me. It doesn’t feel like my body is working to achieve it. You stand legs straight, bent over at the waist. Barbell in hand you move it towards the ground and back to your chest in a rowing motion. In order to not fall over, it helps to raise your head slightly. We watch ourselves in the large window in front of us and it definitely helps. Today, I moved my hands further inwards, towards the middle of the bar, and I felt the muscles in my shoulders working. 

After our second session, my second ever, I can say I am finding it enjoyable. Nothing gets in the way, no bouncing boobs are threatening to derail my balance. There are no threats of a dodgy pothole making me fall. I am in complete control of the bar and it makes me feel so much more connected to my body. Running took me outside my body and all I saw was my legs acting of their own accord. I was connected only to doubt. With the bar I am in charge. The pains in my legs will hopefully subside and I like to think that as my interest and ability grows then so will my confidence in intuitive movement. I want it to feel good to exercise because then there is then more chance that I will stick to it. Right now, I am seeing it as a challenge. I just have to work it out. 

Go Love Yourself
Wear the damn shorts. Exclamation point.


Wear the damn shorts. Exclamation point.

‘The way you look is the least interesting thing about you.’ 

A recent,  little quote I have acquired from the ‘Go Love Yourself’ podcast by the lovely Laura Adlington and Lauren Smith. If you need a boost, a different perspective on weight, appearance and everything in between, I highly recommend it! 

Go Love Yourself

So, the way you look is the least interesting thing about you. 

Who would even have that thought cross their mind nowadays, let alone say it out loud? When you say it out loud, and then again, and again, you’ll realise just how very true it actually is. The more you say it the harder it becomes to retreat back into the old way of thinking. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of money to be made in how people look on the outside! Therein lies the problem.

But it’s actually true. Everything you put on the outside for people to see, doesn’t come close to what your mind and soul has to offer. 

Compassion is not the make up on your face. 

Humour is not how you style your hair. 

Morality is not the size of your stomach or thighs. 

Even the kindest of people can have a crooked smile. And the wickedest of people can have a radiating grin on their face that lures you in. Looks are deceptive!

And yet we are conditioned to be attracted to how someone looks in the relationships we seek. Whether it be friends or lovers, we are taught to gravitate towards people by how their looks make us feel. Predominantly it is how people look that our brains conjure up a split second decision on whether we are to pursue a person. Unfortunately, judgement is so ingrained in our psyche that 99% of the time we do it without even realising. 

It’s also true of names. There was a vastly publicised argument between Holly Willoughby and Katie Hopkins a few years ago over children’s names and how certain names meant Ms Hopkins’ children would be dissuaded from playing with the Tiffany’s or Tyler’s of the world. It still blows my mind. And yet judgement of others comes in the form of so many other quick like a cat fleeting thoughts, that we don’t even know we are doing it. 

In 2020, oh yes, the world fell silent. We all swore to ourselves that when the world opened up again we would embrace all of life’s wonders and happiness would reign supreme. I was one of those people and with every good intention, when the curbs were lifted, Mr W and I headed to Italy. Rebooked from its initial date in the April, we headed into a recuperating world and sought to grasp every spaghetti noodle and shake the life and soul out of it. We train-hopped through Pisa, Florence and settled into Venice before responsibilities forced us home. 

It was a wonderful, exhilarating trip. With small backpacks we were, quite literally, at the mercy of the Italian sun. Personally, I was not at all prepared for the heat and my rash decision to pack shorts was all too praised by my boil in the bag body. However, the go free and wander nature I had adopted was soon thrown into turmoil when my short stumpy and fairly chubby legs were on display for the world to see. They’d not seen daylight for a fair while, the shorts were, well, short and teamed up with animal print socks peeking out over a pair of battered converse, I was not going to be invited to a fashion show anytime soon. 

I’m a big girl, I have PCOS and it’s ravaged my body since my teens; only in recent years have I learned what this means for me physically, our fertility and my mental health. What people don’t realise when they look at me, is why I am the way I am. Why I’m bigger. Why my smile wanes occasionally. Why my mind wanders in a room full of people. They just see my size. But underneath that is a warrior fighting battles only she understands, because PCOS is so very different for every individual. Some people have a few symptoms, some have fertility issues and some don’t. And then there’s some people like me. Every symptom. Fertility issues. A rollercoaster of mental health issues, determination and unlimited failure. 

To have people look at me, up and down, whilst wearing those shorts will stay with me for a long time. I got caught up in the ‘fuck it’ nature that so many others embraced after lockdown 2020 that my anxieties over my clothing choices were muffled like never before. I’m sad to say, it made me retreat into myself that day. I didn’t wear the shorts again. And yet, the least interesting thing about me that day was my clothing. Indeed, my body. 

Inside, I was a girl on the move again. Travelling. Living. Fearless. Mentally free from the covid prison of the previous 6 months. Doing what she did best, pursuing the next horizon, the next adventure and pushing for the hidden wonders of the world. Outside I was wearing yellow shorts. Big. Deal. 

The day after short-gate, I wore jeans. They were mildly uncomfortable. I won’t lie. I have little legs, so I find that the steeper the hill the more I have to stretch my legs and those tight jean-ie beauties were having none of it. And wouldn’t you know it, there was a huge hill we had decided to take when on our way up to the Giardino Bardini. Yep, I’m a freaking idiot! Giardino Bardini is a 17th century villa surrounded by the most beautiful gardens overlooking the Arno river and Florence. We found a bench and just sat. No words to be said, but a knowing look now and again to know how lucky we were to be safe, healthy and happy in a world that had lost its way.

When we reached Venice, with its winding labyrinthine streets, I felt a sense of peace in the moments where so few people could see me and I could look up from my feet and see what the city had to offer. Italy was on the news early on in the pandemic because of how fast it was ravaged by covid and the horrors we had not yet witnessed in the UK. We found that just 6 months after Italy had been struck down, the towns and cities had an almost eerie quiet to them. Tourists had not yet returned in their droves. Locals were still weary and you just felt so humbled to be walking those streets. To be given the chance to witness a place in its quiet splendour was indescribable. When talking about Venice in the past, all I had ever heard of was the masses and masses of people that bombard Venice with their boats, feet and ticketed day trips. This was not the Venice I had experienced in my daydreams, and yet even though we felt extremely lucky, the nagging thought of why it was quiet was never far away. And here I was worried about getting a ‘look’ off a stranger I would NEVER ever see again. How does that poison even infiltrate a mind? 

My legs that carried me through Italy wore shorts. My stomach that digested the oh so many delicious delights of Italian chefs was happy. My hair needed (knowing me) a good bloody brush and my makeup was most definitely rushed. 

What I looked like then, and now, is the least interesting thing about me. 

What my soul looks like when I’m travelling is radiant, beautiful and free. Wear the damn shorts!