Gender Weight Loss Wars

Seriously this subject is probably one of the most annoying things in my life besides my husbands loud chewing and the kids toe nail/boogie picking. Don’t get me wrong I’ve come a long way in my weight issues and nowadays I actually don’t care about “the number” and I don’t even hate my body anymore. In fact I totally accept it and most days I quite like it. Sure it’s not a Ferrari but it’s a pretty economical and reliable station wagon and for that I am grateful.

BUT…. But. But. But.

How is it that a man says “I’m going on a diet!” To then not only have his food served, his meals planned, his shopping done for him BUT he also only quits one or two things – like beer or Coke (and instead takes up Vodka and Red Creaming Soda), eats pretty much as he usually does after the healthy food thing wears off a few days in, then does a gigantic crap one morning and magically loses 6kg! Boom! Goal weight in well under a fortnight motherfucker!

Yet…

A woman says “I’m eating healthy and changing my lifestyle!” It is a serious declaration. She gives up coffee, she gives up wine, she gives up sugar and flour and starchy carbs. She takes up green drinks that taste like cold vegetable soup mixed with the grass out the back, in fact she increases her intake of everything remotely green grass looking. She limits her portion sizes at meal times using a side plate to trick her brain, she drinks 2lt of filtered water and exercises for a minimum of 30 minutes every day. She meditates and cleanses her soul, keeps a food journal and dedicates most of her day in the kitchen preparing and cleaning up healthy meals for her and her family. She has never been ‘healthier’ yet she is constipated for 6 out of 7 days and when she’s not in the kitchen prepping/cooking/cleaning she is on the toilet urinating like some kind of wee God. She resists the urge to weigh in because it is about a lifestyle choice and not a number but surely 18 days of pure good health will harbour some results that are worth seeing….

Am I right?

Arrrr.. Nup! A measly 300g gone! How can that be! Lucky for him that I feel good about myself anyway. I’m not hangry which means he gets to live and I am ok with not losing a single kilo which is good because otherwise I might just have to lace his food with laxatives BUT then he would gloat even more over the diarrhoea weight loss. He actually would.

So what the fuck is happening here?

Well this is what it FEELS like is happening…

The Man body says, “Lets not fuck around mate! We got a piss up next week and we ain’t telling the boys we can’t drink coz we are on a diet. So process every fat cell in sight at lightening speed and drop an ungodly 2kg log on day 6! Job done!” Cue the naked mirror happy helicopter dance and bicep pashing…

The Woman body says, “Huh? What? We are trying to lose weight? Oh I thought you said wait! Wait and hold on to every fat cell and digested green bit until it is safe to let it go… Let it go.. Let it goooo… Oh but I can’t. Yes you can! Let’s do this! This is your time! No.. No.. I’m not ready… Oh but you are… But what if we need to reserve our fat cells for possible starvation? What the fuck are you on about?” and on and so forth…

What is ACTUALLY happening…

Simply put men have more muscle than women and the more muscle you have the more fat you burn. Hence the reason they shed it quicker.

Men also have 10 times more testosterone than women which increases their metabolism at a rate of 5-10% faster than women.

Women have oestrogen – which helps with the obvious procreation thing – but this funny little word makes it harder for us to burn fat after a meal. Yes it makes us hold onto it! Which is great if we are in the dark ages and food is scarce then hell we are going to be ok.

Women also have more cravings – I don’t know why but the research says so. Research also says we are more likely to turn to emotional eating – yay for us!

And this all must be true because I Googled it! So blame the testosterone/oestrogen you don’t have/have. Men may have the weight loss edge over us but we can do so much more than they can – like get aroused without anyone noticing, have multiple orgasms, wear mens clothes without anyone raising an eyebrow, multi-task and (for some of us blessed ones) we can push a gigantic baby out of our vagina.

So fuck the testosterone and their fast weight loss. Feel good inside and outside because that is all that really matters!

One love

DRK xxx

boob-tribute

Ain’t this the truth!

fitness-dog

I had to share this one – too funny!

 

10 Cheeky Comebacks For When Someone Asks If You’re Pregnant BUT You’re not!

In the light of recent pregnancy comments about Princess Zara I was reminded of a lifetime of my own. As a mere ‘normal’ mortal, though, I am lucky not to have had my “is-she?-isn’t-she?” splashed across the internet and news feeds but I do wonder why there is this obsession with the woman body. I believe just like being “on a period” you should never ask a woman if she is pregnant. You should never ask when she is due and definitely never EVER have an opinion on her “baby” weight! We are women and weight is a very sensitive subject. It’s not hard though. Just keep your mouth shut.

Preggas

I’m generally two from left – except my boobs are bigger – unless it’s been a few days since visiting the toilet then I am definitely more a three or four.

If you, like me, have ever been asked these questions, if you have ever been in that mortifying and uncomfortable situation don’t hide yourself away. Don’t feel ashamed. Don’t visualise punching them in the face – and please don’t actually punch them in the face! Instead have a comeback. A fucking witty comeback topped up with good dose of sarcasm so people learn that it is NOT ok to assess a womans body or to make assumptions that we can’t simply be a little voluptuous or god-forbid bloated without having to be up-the-duff. Lets face it for those of us who can conceive it is an awkward situation and, at worst, it’s a throw-the-outfit-in-the-bin-and-never-wear-it-again embarrassment but for those who can’t have babies then it is just a heartbreaking moment in their life… A question they would give anything to answer “YES!” to …  A question and answer scenario they dream of, even when they are awake.

Lets raise the bar (or our eye level) and look at each other when talking together instead of analysing bumps and lumps. If you do feel the need to analyse bumps and lumps then do a breast check and by that I mean your own! Now doesn’t that seem much more important than insulting an unsuspecting and definitely not pregnant woman?!

OK so let’s talk about comebacks to particular questions. They must be delivered with shoulders back, head held high and a smirk on your face. No one needs to feel embarrassed in the skin they are in and typically, these questions come from people who mean well but lack any type of filter from brain to judgement to mouth.

Here we go………

Q1: How long have you got to go?

A: Well, I dropped a couple of laxatives a few of hours ago now so ummm any minute now I guess and then my five day old shit will be ready to explode!

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Q2: Wow you must be ready to pop – how long now? 

A: Oh no I’m not pregnant but hey looks like your arse is about to have twins – congrats!

Q3: Oh my god you’re pregnant… Congrats!

A: Yes but don’t tell my husband – it’s not his!

Q4: OMG so-and-so told me you were pregnant – congrats!!

A: Shit! Am I? I better lay off the tequila shots and cigars!

Q5: When’s this one due?

A: I was just about to ask you the same question!

Q6: OMG! Are you preggas?

A: No but the night is still young!

Q7: Look at that belly! How far along are you?

A: Well I’ve been brewing this massive fart all morning but unfortunately you’ll need more than gas to help that mouth of yours!

Q8: Are you up the duff?

A: No. My boobs are always this awesome!

Q9: Oooohhh (points to belly) what are you hoping for?

A: A puppy that can burp the alphabet

Q10: I can’t believe you’re pregnant again!

A: Actually I’m not. I have a condition called “Fuck-You” – Google it.

Pregnant

Only ever assume a women is pregnant if a) you have x-ray vision (which you should be careful with as it can be harmful to the baby) or b) you physically see that baby emerging from her body! Otherwise shove that foot firmly back into your mouth and never utter those words again to any woman ever?! Got it? Get it? Good!

Now some wise words from the always effervescent P!NK, the woman I adore and may even consider leaving my husband and children for….

Pinks statement

Ahhhhh god I love her……

One love,

DRK xxx

We burnt the bra and then introduced spandex! 

Women of the world lets talk about the revolution or perhaps the evolution of us Betty Beavers! Let’s discuss where we are at in this women’s lib business and no I’m not talking about growing the hairs on your legs or plaiting your underarm hair. I’m not even discussing whether to wear or not to wear a bra (but just so you know I wear a bra otherwise I’d have two sets of knees). Let’s instead discuss suffocation. Suffocation of the woman body….

I’m going to ask you this very important question. Think hard before you answer – if absolutely necessary……

Have you ever walked into a department store, (ok I know the answer to that is yes but it is also not the question) strolled past the male underwear section and seen any hint of spandex? Any form of shape wear? Have you ever seen racks and racks of suck-me-in options all with marketing on the front of beer bellied men transformed into flat 6 pack stomach gods? Have you?

Seriously, have you?!!

Who do we suffocate our bodies for? Who makes us feel like we have pour ourselves into this spandex shape wear or more realistically complete an ugly ballerina workout just to get into it in the first place. It is not for our husbands, ok initially maybe it was to attract a man but it’s all got to unravel at some point doesn’t it! So I ask the question more deeply this time… Who do we wear spandex for?? Isn’t the honest to goodness most truthful answer for other women?!

I know the many times I have worn suckerer-innerers has been on girls nights, double dates or to weddings. When it tragically and theatrically goes on my husband does his deadly here-she-goes-again eye roll and mumbles something about how fucken sexy I am right now – I totally detect some sarcasm in his voice! My reply “Honey get the surgical scissors out tonight I’m going to need them when I get home!” Which also usually means he’s not going to “get any” when I get home because my intestines are screaming foul play after being compressed for hours upon hours!

I have recently stopped suffocating myself but for years I wore compression garments all for the illusion of a flat stomach, shapely thighs and a dimple free arse that’s half the size… This is an illusion created for other women who are also creating the same illusion. Not all women participate in the smoothing effect but there’s quite a few of us if we are truly honest. Compression garments are never worn for my hubbie anymore coz I’m pretty sure, from memory, he’s seen me naked and vulnerable at the many stages of my female life including the ever invasive pregnancy testing, the many scratch and sniffs I subjected myself to (better known as stretch and sweeps) and, of course the super sexy ‘let’s push a watermelon sized human being out of a smaller sized penis hugging canal while trying not to shit on the table’ childbirth viewings.

I have owned, at some point or another, every type of suck-me-in’s too. The full length pants that lift and firm your arse, compress your thighs while also flattening your stomach. I have the knee and mid-thigh length versions of that too – in nude and black of course. I also have the knicker ones but my arse spills out the sides and that sorta shit is really too hot to handle. I’ve also had the singlets, the over boobs and under boobs ones. I’ve had the pants with caffeine infused into the material to help you lose weight while looking like you’d already lost weight! I had the matching top in that one too. While none of these versions have ever given me a completely seamless looking figure and it’s completely imfuckingpractical during sweaty Australian summers, it has been many times that I had wished for an ankle-to-breast-to-wrist compression garment …. But then I realised I’d be wearing a wetsuit – which in fact is perfect for the Australian summer.

So back to the initial question – do you see men wearing these garments to please other men? How utterly ridiculous! These are lucrative businesses run by other women who keep on making money from our own insecurities and our harsh judgments of other women’s bodies! We are participating in a ridiculous “perfection” culture where “just as you are” is never good enough. I bravely took me and my little donut belly out last night and she was free from any intestinal sufferance. She wiggled and jiggled when I walked and laughed. I occasionally hid her behind my bag or my hand or pressed her against the table or tucked her into my jeans which then gives you a camel toe let me give you the tip but we were free to breath, my intestines weren’t squooshed up and sitting in my throat (talk about bad breath!) and well it was kinda liberating. Scary but liberating. Another bonus I got to pee in 2 minutes! Yep in and out just like that! No ballerina dancing to get some unhygienic labia suffocating material over the bits of my body some entrepreneurial sells to the women world as unsightly!

What’s next ladies – shape wear for our daughters? Let’s hope not!

One love,

DRK xxx

Losing a Sh!t Load of Weight

I recently blogged about “passengers in the bus” or #voicesinmyhead that I have slowly but surely started to drown out. I got tired of hearing their daily hourly fat, ugly taunts and I finally got the courage up to just drive that bus, #myself, toward my destination warning those demons (or as I affectionately call them, fucktards) along the way that if they didn’t shut up they would be booted out at #itsnotmeitsdefinitelyyou and #hellwasbacktherefucktards. Surprisingly my firm tone of voice, my confidence in my decisions and my ability to ignore them most of all has actually started working. They have been relatively quieter lately and I can see my journey ahead, my headspace is becoming a lot more peaceful. A lot happier. A hell of a lot more satisfied with me, as I am, right now!

With those demons sitting a little quieter on the bus things have obviously changed for me. The major thing is my scales no longer dictate my day. They don’t tell me to be happy or sad. That I am a good or unworthy person and they certainly don’t say if I am a success or a failure in this world. I’ve also been given the freedom of food. I can now eat what I want, when I want and however much of it I want to eat without feeling guilty. Without beating myself up and claiming to the world what an awful person I must be. The emotionally painful connection I have with food has almost completely ceased and so instead of eating and eating and eating to feed my demons, to satisfy their negative judgements on me and to starve myself of acceptance and love I now eat when I’m hungry.

In the mornings I wake up starving and my belly grumbles louder than my head ever did. So I eat. My favourite for the past month has been honey on toast. Ok, more so, it’s butter on toast with a small drizzle of honey…. Ok, ok it is actually just butter with a small serve of toast and an even smaller drizzle of honey! But I eat it lovingly and I enjoy it deeply and I don’t feel bad about it … at all! The other night my husband took me out for dinner. It was a surprise dinner. An early birthday present. I ate three courses. Yes, an entree, a main AND sweets – unheard of normally in my world! I didn’t finish every bite but I ordered and I ate each course til I felt satisfied. My demons didn’t say a word. This is a huge deal for me! I eat salad, I eat rice, I eat lean protein, I eat pasta. I eat a balanced diet and I am not stick thin or at the gym working my arse off and I am totally ok with it because there is so much more to me than what size I am. There is so much I have to give to this world and it has nothing to do with the number on the scales, a long awaited/yearned for flat stomach, a bullet repellant arse or a body that other women are secretly jealous of. My calling is much deeper than that. My health starts with my mind.

I weighed myself the other day, for the first time in ages, this is also a huge deal for me – I was a ‘three times a day’ weigher once upon a very short time ago!! With all this eating and enjoying I have been doing I was surprised to see I haven’t put on any weight, in fact I’ve lost a couple of Kay Gees. But I really, honestly, don’t care because the greatest loss I have made is the huge weight, crazy huge burden that I have been carrying on my shoulders. The pressure. The judgement. The harsh critic. The meanness. The constant battery of thy mirror self. I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t have to look like the women in the magazines. I don’t have to look like my neighbour, my best friend, my frenemy. I can just be. I choose to just be. I choose to eat to survive. Eat to enjoy. Eat to live. I chose to wear what makes me happy. Wear my size, proudly, confidently, whatever size that is and you never know from one brand to the next! I can wear whatever I damn well please including a bathing suit when the sun starts shining warmth again. I can smile with happiness. Smile with confidence. Smile because I know who I am and I don’t have to struggle to be someone I’m not. My head sits high on my shoulders. My happy, smiley head.

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I now know that chasing the better version of yourself doesn’t always have to mean being buff, being skinny, being thinner than what you are. That’s a sales tool that is used in the fitness and health industry – and that’s ok. For some. Not for all of us. Being the better version of yourself is being happy with who you are … Right Now! Because every day that you are living and breathing is a bloody successful day! Every day you get to learn something new about yourself and your body. It’s functions, capabilities, it’s fucken awesomeness! Every day you can choose happiness and acceptance over those fucktardish demons. Body love, body acceptance, body embracing is a choice, every day, all day. This is the best version of yourself. Body hating, body judging, body shaming should be left on the bus, sitting quietly, in time out until they learn the value of love and acceptance.

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Now give your body a hug! It works hard to take you through each day – especially if you treat it as badly as I have treated mine over the last two decades! Speak kindly to yourself because you are listening!

One love

DRK xxx

Time Traveller

Today I received a message from myself. A message from the 26th April 2013 version of me. It popped up on my iPhone. It popped up on my Mac. I sent myself a clear message – clear to me because I knew exactly what I had intended for it to mean on it’s arrival today. It was designed in 2013 to activate me today in 2015. It said ….

“Today it clicked”

What the??? Seriously! On this day 2 years ago I decided to set up a calendar event to remind me, convince me that all it takes is one click. One click and whola you are thin. You are successful. You have time and money up your sleeves. One click and you are magically happy, your house is clean and your kids listen to you. Lets be honest though – in all its simplicity that click was really directed at my weight.

What was I doing two years ago that made me come up with this marvellous idea? At what point did I actually think a message from my past self would actually work? My future self maybe but my past self really?? It does, however, show me that two years ago and today are just the same because I’m still as focused now as I was then on the same stuff. What is that quote about insanity …”The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.” The simple fact is that I am not willing to work for it. Any of it. I’m lazy.

  

What clicked today was my guilt. Which clicks a lot. Guilt that I didn’t get my kids out of bed to go to the ANZAC dawn service yesterday morning because I was worried my youngest would cause a scene when there was supposed to be silence. Guilty because I sat on the couch for most of the morning, eating on and off but mainly on. Guilty because I saw a person who makes me hate myself and so I came home and ate chocolate. Guilty because I am sitting here typing rather than snuggling with my baby on the couch – but I think the couch has had enough of me today. Guilt because I am still the same as I was in 2013 and even earlier, much earlier than that. Guilt because I sit here whinging when so many others have it worse.

  

Today it clicked just how much I beat myself up still after all this time. Beat myself up because I live in my head – yes we’ve have had this discussion recently! Today it clicked that maybe I don’t really want to change if I haven’t already. Or maybe what’s holding me back is stronger than the result I am chasing or I’m allowing that to be the truth. Like captive Elephants who, from an early age, have a single rope strapped to their ankle. Then as they grow into over a 3000kg creature they still believe that this single rope can hold them back. With the largest brain of any land animal elephants are conditioned to believe this to be true yet they have the capacity, the strength and the brain power to move forward! They just believe they can’t.

 

Why do I live like this. Chained up to beliefs that hold me back. I want to be free!

  

So today I did what any smart land animal would do – I deleted my click. I deleted that fucker right off my calendar of events. This isn’t a magic show. It’s fucken life. I am not David Copperfield and that “magic” is all about illusion anyway! I’m still working on this…. This is far from over!

One love

DRK xxx

The Diet Wagon

I am known for my honesty. Here especially. I tell it like it is and I own my shit. So here’s a dose of reality and shit-owning….

There was a wagon fall…. Last night…

In fact I started to lean precariously over the edge of that said wagon by mid afternoon yesterday. I’m not sure what the trigger was, not sure that it even matters but what I do know is it started with the desire for chips – hot salty chips – my greatest weakness.

And I came close. So close in fact just a mere 25m to the driveway in fulfilling that desire only to back out at the last minute – I was proud. Real proud. I think I even high-fived myself …. Yep, seriously I did!

But then ….

THEN my mouth fell into a pile of Smarties. There’s no other explanation as to how they got there. Worst of all I don’t even like Smarties.

And then it was caught chewing on the leftover sausage roll that was covered in sauce. I’m partial to savoury pastries but I don’t even like sausage rolls.

And then. And then AND THEN……. I found a pile of salt & vinegar chips in my hand which were on a conveyor belt to my mouth. Again, I’m not even a fan of these!

Seriously?! Why?!

Now instead of fulfilling the actual craving I had yesterday I went and consumed 3 times the crap! 3 times the things I don’t love, that I hardly even like and certainly never crave.

Ok, so whats the damage? Well I’ve gained a little and I am actually feeling a little shocked seeing as I have been doing so well. I have also set myself back a few days which means I will not reach my goal of 68kg tomorrow. Which, of course, then snowballs and effects my goals for the following week, and the week after etc, etc.

I tried to talk to my husband about it but that was after I had almost bitten his head off when he cocked his head to the side and asked, while I was eating a minuscule piece of pepperoni, how my diet was going? Really dangerous territory! In fact if I wasn’t so concerned about additional calories his head would have been seriously fucked up!

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Anyway my conversation with him about stuffing up yesterday went a little like this:

“So, I was craving hot chips … And then … And then I didn’t do it…” **insert*unregognisable blubbering** “I just drove on past… And then I slipped over … And then there was these smarties in my mouth ….” **insert**laughing-slash-crying-slash-blubbering-slash-indecipherable** He just sat there bewildered. No idea what the hell I was talking about and he just couldn’t get his head around the smarties comment. He totally didn’t get it. Fair enough I suppose and hey I think it’s almost THAT time of the month  though I’m not going to tell him that!

As a result of my fall yesterday my wagons parked up today. I am neither off it nor on it. I am confused by it and angry with it. Slightly disappointed in it and working on the courage to get back on it. I haven’t given up. I’ve eaten well today – bar that slice of pepperoni – I’ve been for a walk and then I went for a jog (or a faster walk by other definitions) and I plan on having a small protein and salad meal for dinner.

This wasn’t an epic fail but it was still a try hard fail. I’m not looking forward to the ‘numbers’ tomorrow and yes I know I should just not weigh myself – but I know I will. It’s a force greater than me sometimes – the pull to know if I am getting closer to or further from my ‘ideal weight’.

Hope your wagon journeys are safe and on a flat surface – leave the bumpy shit to me! I’ll be back!

One love,

DRK xxx

falling-off-the-wagon

Day 12 – It’s Happening …. Clickedy, Click

Have you ever read articles on weight loss where people say something along the lines of “it just clicked” – cut to the amazing before and after shots???

Well I have … heaps and heaps and heaps and it annoys the crapola out of me! It’s so frustrating when you’re a dietaholic, like me, and you hear that there was this miraculous ‘click’ for other people who have struggled with their weight too yet for some reason you haven’t heard it, felt it, seen it or touched it for yourself. And I’ve waited, trust me, I have waited AND waited for this clicking shit to happen.

I wonder when they say it do they mean that it was a definitive click that just materialised out of thin air and then they were cured? Or was it a series of clicks because these before and after photos are deceiving to a visual person like me. To me it looks as though one day they woke up overweight, then something clicked and the next morning they were slim! That. Does. My. Fucking. Head. In!!!!

BUT ……

Of course there is a but ….. Isn’t there always?!

I’ve notice changes in the last 12 days. Changes other than the 4.5kg loss (yes I’m bragging). Nice little changes that may be ever so subtle clicks. Like the rarely-there cravings for chocolate and my ability to talk the odd one out of eventuating. Or the teeny little slip-up that stays a teeny little slip-up and doesn’t turn into a guilt induced oh-well-I-fucked-it binge. I am drinking lots of water – in fact, I am craving it. I am finding the word ‘no’ rolls off my tongue easier and I don’t feel completely deprived when I say it.

It’s kinda awesome. It kinda feels like the beginning of something bigger for me and maybe my problem all along was that I was ‘waiting’ for the click when I should have gone out and activated the fucker myself!

Have you heard the click? Are you one of those who has an awesome ‘before’ & ‘after’?

I want to have awesome ‘b&a’ photos – just for me 🙂

One love

DRK xxx