Yes, I should, but I don't want to. I need to, though.

Imagine what could have been, if only...
What if I could get up in the morning, rise and shine, and feel like exercising?
Some people actually do, you know. Some people have made it a habit to gain energy, good spirits and vitality through the sacrifice of knowingly giving up a generous sleep in, almost every day.

They get up and hit the gym, or the swimmingpool, before work. They ride their bicycle to work every day, regardless of weather. Some have lunchbreaks long enough to work out at a nearby gym.
(That one I am excused from, my lunch is 25 minutes long. It would have been ridiculous to get there, get changed, work out, shower, get dressed and get back to work in 25 minutes. Not sure even Superman could have done that. My superpowers are being a mom and teaching, not speed.)

I so admire the stamina they show being persistent about staying, or getting, in shape. I wish I had self dicipline enough to get those muscles working, to push myself to the limit of gasping for air, make the pulse pound so fast and so hard I can feel it.

In spite of the apparent sacrifices, they gain the admiration of others, for being totally selfish and they don't have to go through the looks unfit people get from others, you know, the look which says: wow, how some people let themselves go is really impressive and totally impossible to phathom. Besides it's beyond unattractive.

Some say keeping up working out is not at all hard in summer, because the entire getting to location and just "be" in the present is lovely and an adventure in itself. That is when you really feel life going on here and now.

However, when its cold and wet, you just want to stay where it's warm and cuddly and nice and well, just not get up. You are perfectly fine where you are: In bed.
Problem is: you don't work up a sixpack and firm upper arms while resting.

I've talked about it for some time. Now that my youngest is so independent and responsible (he is VERY responsible. I have no idea where he got that character from), I should start bicycling to work. At least some days a week. It's only 13 kilometres, and lots of people do it every day.

I like to think I am just like any other deadly person, I can do same thing most others do, but... I was all set and mentally ready to bicycle to work.... then I woke up and it was raining; I chickened out.
I know many don't blame me, because bicycling in the rain, getting wet and tired and cold is really no fun. On the other hand: when you are wet through you can't get any wetter, and I will change into dry clothes ones I get there...

I don't know why I find it such an effort. I mean, I know I am spoiled rotten driving my own car to work. I don't have to take the bus or train or anything. I have done it for so many years, I guess I should be content having had such an easy travel to work for so many years...
but its miserable to wait for the bus or run from the busstop, carrying a heavy bag, when it raining.

It's no fun when it is windy cold and wet. It is temporarily uncomfortable, but as long as you are moving you stay warm, so it really isn't all that bad.

And, again: I live in Norway. If rain stops me, I really won't get anywhere

Autumn is knocking on the door, and in all honesty I don't mind the seasons. They all have their own charme. I love the colours, I love all the underestimated pleasures autumn gives me. What I do mind is all the excuses the season offers.

I am too old to make excuses. I need to think about all the years I was left happy not making any effort to stay fit, then I had all the years when I should have made an effort, but had a lot of good reasons not to. Now the time has come to pay for the break.

For 30 years my body looked quite ok. For the last 15 years, life has given me scars and marks which tell the story of my life. I am not that old yet... but will be soon. 

I should be able to find time to stay fit and healthy... maybe lose a few pounds... or many.
I should become better, you know? make an effort to become the best version of myself. 
Funny how I know this, and still don't set my mind on sticking to it.

I could, of course, choose the easy way out and get some surgery done to enhance my appearance, but to me it somehow feels like cheating, 
My body should reflect my life and my lifestyle, so to workout should be just as natural to me as to eat healthy, if I am concerned enough to spend time thinking about it. Not proud of the fact that I do, but I do. 
Guess I am more vain than I like to give myself credit for.

There is always time to make changes, to exercise and eat better. The process of preparing for a surgery is time consuming and quite straining. A lot must be in place before you go under the knife. You could just keep up the work and get results on your own.

Liposuction doesn't give you a healthier lifestyle, it only gives you a break from the lifestyle you have acquired over time. 
To me it would be like cheating. BUT, I do see the need if you have proper medical problem that requires it, and you need a wake up call and a jump start.

For many years I was so bothered by my friends who took gastro bypass surgeries done. I realise now how they affected me, actually, I haven't really understood untill now how much it bothered me.

Imagine how proud of myself I would feel if I achieve all that naturally. Without the talking and commenting on what to eat, what not to eat, what to wear, which nips and tucs must be done due to losing too much weight too fast.
But I have to admit I am impatient, and lack selfdicipline. Terrible combination, but it's true.

I should add pride to my list on pros and cons. I should become more proud.

It's good to have goals, and what I am at right now is to design a possible plan for thinking about maybe getting started being more set for a goal.
Every journey starts with a small step

Getting started is the hardest part, simply because I am a procrastinator by nature, I have to fight that. And I know I am stupid not to take on the challenge. The only person to lose is me, if I don't fight my flaws.

You know.... I really don't give myself an easy way out here. What I do is actually telling the entire world I need a change, I know this and I am an idiot if I don't do anything about it.

Did I want an easy way out? My "here-and-now" does. My "here-and-now" so wants an easy way out, but my shopping for a dress for christmas wants the harder way.
My self esteem in wait, wants to wear that really stark blue dress with bold pride knowing that I didn't cheat.
Oh, I Would be so stuck up nose about it, I would be unbearable to be around for months and months on. Telling everybody I could now climb stairs with more ease and all that.

Hmmmm. getting to brag and be totally entitled to... there is an incentive worth paying some thought to.

Eating markers.

I still eat markers.
No, I don't have one of those odd urges which makes me eat highlighters or anything. I eat markers as in foods; snacks or candy which shows me how much of my food I have disgorged.

For 25 years it has to some extent cast a shadow, a curse even, on me, my life and my body.

If I knew how hard it would be to write down this confession, would I do it again? I don't know. I sit here, curled up inside, in shame, while I continue to write my compunction and abashment.

Strange how I feel this way in spite of it began so unintentionaly. I didn't have problems with my weight or body. I didn't have low self esteem due to my appearance: I was healthy, strong, slim, young... Any garment looked good on me, because I wore them with confidence.

Even when my friend told me I was gaining weight, she could tell, because I had gotten dimples on my knees, I laughed it off. That's how confident I was in myself.

When I was 20 I would experience occasional involuntary throwing up. I thought perhaps I was sick, but as it increased, and it would happen more and more often I went to see a doctor, worried something more serious was wrong with me.

I went through every test in the book, and then some. My doctor sent me to one specialist after another to find out what caused it. Maybe he was just humoring me, sending me off to another specialist to shut me up, because he would say: "You have an eating disorder. There is nothing physically wrong with you, it must be of psychological reasons". And I strongly refused, saying I had no problems which would cause that kind of troubles.
And he would weigh me in and raise his eyebrows.

One week I had gained 5 kilos, the next one another 4... then I would lose 8 kilos the next.
My weight went up and down like a jojo, varying from 55 kilos to as much as 90.
Keeping three sizes in your wardrobe is perhaps not the most normal thing to do, but to me it was how it was.

There was no internet, encyclopedias weren't updated on the matter, and though it didn't start out as an eating disorder, my condition developed into one.
I needed some sort of control, and it's funny how the tricks I learned myself, are now the most common signs to look for when suspecting someone is having an unhealthy view on food and their body. (I guess that means I found out a clever and sensible way to deal with it... from a sick point of view.)

I know exactly what to eat, and how to eat it, to disengage effortlessly.
Mind you: I never stuck my fingers down my throat, or used any other means, to make me retch.
I just decided it would feel better if I emptied my stomach, so I did. Very controlled, no fuss, no hurry. I have great control of the muscles in my stomach and can still throw up just by will.

It didn't take me long to control the food expences, it didn't take me long to learn how to hide the smell from my breath. All in all I didn't think of it as such a big problem. When I was slim I looked great, when I was fat i knew I would bounce back into sexy shape in no time. No hassle.

Not untill my dentist started to charge me sky high fees, and told me something odd was going on, because I had cavities under even fairly new fillings.

Then I got pregnant, and 4.5 months into my pregnancy I got these pains, like phantom pains in my stomach and my appendix was removed one night,
I woke up from the anaesthesia, and I was still in pain, but they told me I was making it up: My appendix had been fine, and pregnancy was all well. They blamed it on my eating disorder and the psychological state which had brought the condition upon me.

One of the specialists in x-rays was a friend of my father. He had heard I was in a bad shape, and pregnant, so the next night, when he had little to do, he woke me up, took me by the hand and we walked down to his ward.

He did an ultrasound on me then, and his findings were life changing to me:
I had no infection, but my gall bladder was almost bursting with the amount and sizes of the gallstones.

They all apologized, telling me how unexpected and uncommon it was for a young person, such as me, to have that. Suddenly I had no eating disorder anymore, I was suffering from symptoms of a physical disorder.
I was sceduled for a surgery a year later.

Suddenly I had no medical backup anymore. Suddenly I had no psychological challenges. Now there was an explanation to my weight issues, and it was like as if it was already fixed.

It wasn't. Now I turned worried, and ate even more to make sure the baby got the nutritient it needed, and my weight changed faster, and more, than ever.
It took me years to get a balanced and healthy view on food.
And to do that I had to accept being over weight. Sounds strange, but that was what it took for me to get peace of mind.
The chemistry in my body is a mess and not functioning right.

For 15 years I have been over weight. 1/3 of my life, and enough is enough. I am ready to take the next step.

Financially it has cost me a lot. At times I have cut back on every expence, just to spend as much as possible on food.
Dentist bills have been astronomical. Still are cause my teeth now crack and fall out in pieces. You can't tell by my smile, but they do. I have to be careful where I chew, and what I chew.

Buying clothes which fit has become quite an obsession, almost as bad as my shoe purchases. (Maybe that's why I like shoes so much, because they always fit, no matter my size.)

I never buy clothes in a store. I hate it when the helpful, smart and smiling, young staff come over to tell me how great I will look in this or that in those colours.
Almost all my clothes are grey or black.

I hate to see great garments on the online stores, knowing I can't wear it because it will reveal too much, or I will be too noticable. I cling to my previous love for cut and fabric by having a somewhat black and grey chic punk style. And people call me eccentric for it. Not even realizing I AM eccentric, but for other reasons.

I find it quite a paradox, you know, knowing I now hate pictures of me. I avoid being taken pictures of, and get quite upset when I find out somebody did. When I see a picture of me I examine my double chin, the shape of my body, my "love handle" of excess skin, and I get upset.
All the normal and perfect imperfections everybody has, is to me a reason to hide. And admitting to this is quite surprising to me, as I find all people, regardless their shape, color and style, beautiful.

I hate doing any kind of physical activity because I know I am too heavy. And I know my kids at some level are missing out on things I would love for them to experience.

But now I have come to a point in life when I have to take a grip and make a few changes, more than a few: many! I need to become good enough again. Being like this is too exhausting. Because, after all, I am not sick anymore... I just still eat markers.

What's weighing down

Both my older brothers picked up the hobby of photography when they were teenagers. Today they are very competent and able photographers, and immortalize those moments we regret we forgot. A flower forcing its way through the paved sidewalk, a sunset, a cup of coffee an early morning...

They bought all the equipment needed to develope the pictures themselves, and I remember how they painted lightbulbs red and occupied our spaceous bathroom for hours experimenting with printing lights, developing baths, fixture and developing time. 

Everything was a potential motif, but I somehow often found myself in the strangest of situations because... well, because I was there and easy to order around so they could get the picture they wanted. 

There are numerous pictures stacked somewhere in a box, of me, in black and white. 

Looking at pictures from my childhood, I can tell I was not the most slender kid around, but I was what I would say a normal, healthy and active kid.

As a teenager I turned into a slender and strong young woman; moulded by hard work and an active lifestyle. 

Now, at 44, I am distressed. I feel my children's childhood have been limted because of their overweight mother.

Every summer we seem to end up visiting amusement parks, waterparks and other sporty sites, and I always end up watching what an amazing time they have together, my family, while I watch our stuff and wait.

20 years ago I was up for everything. No challenge was too scary or too hard to at least try.

That was 30 kilos ago. Now I worry my weight will cause speed, direction.... things, you know?, to get all out of control. I am too big to feel funny when I fail.

When I watch commercials on tv, I notice big people are only used as actors when they are promoting a diet, and they show a photoshopped after picture... Or when the person is silly, sorry or a huge failure.

I have been afraid to go on a diet, worried I will fail. I have been afraid to exercise regularly, worried I will give up. I have comforted myself thinking I can still tie my own shoes without sitting down. 

And then I read this:

And then I realized.... most women want to be "perfect" the acceptable way. Just like flawless models that we see on ads or tv shows... I know people who say I am pretty the way I am, and then they always add some of my qualities, not my looks.

And then I think to myself that I am not history yet. I am not bygone. I refuse to call myself old, even though I recognize how I each year discover changes in me.The hope that the changes can be good never dies.
I am more tolerant, I see more of the whole picture. My personality improves, I think, and I really try to accept myself as I am. And even though this is clear to me in a flash of insight I have to admit that in everyday I don't see that. I am not the carefree girl more than willing to be photographed. I am very self conscious because of all my imperfections.

And then I think about women I see every day; women who don't look like models or actresses, and how I vision them is less important to me, than the feeling thinking about them gives me. Each of them has this different aura and charm around her... and thats when I realize, that everyone has their own beauty. It doesn't matter if you're not born perfect. If you take away, photoshop and remove, the imprefections, there's not much left of who you are.

I should participate more, I should offer more of myself to people around me, being big should not make me feel less good for others. And making an effort is really admirable and so much more attractive, opposed to the mere giving up and stop caring.
And I think that starting to feel better about my own worth could make sporting vacations more enjoyable, and chocolate less of a friend.

Rachel put it like this, after she posted a photo on facebook and got unexpected response:

The Internet: My Oracle

The internet is a true blessing, and a very scary thing. Anything can be found there: you want proof the moon is in fact a cheese, you just go online and you find facts and videos to support your agenda.

When I have a lot to do, or perhaps a lot on my mind, I can spend hours procrastinating; surfing the net and entertain myself with an endless series of photos and videos of science experiments, babies and cats and horses... dogs even. Quotes, ads and sponsored suggestions are placed a strategical easy click away. More and more often I find pages too fancy and eventful; it takes forever to upload them. When I come across sites like that I find a hidden, strange kind of pleasure in avoiding them in the future. Yeah, that's the kind of brainless sports you can do online.

I have felt very poorly for quite a few months now, even more than usual, that is. I have blamed work, drama in my life and in my circles and a tight schedule. But somehow my general condition has not made any sense. There hasn't been any logic to my state of wretchedness which hovers over my everyday. I'm not sick or anything, I just feel, well, wretched. All the time!

Last night, in an attempt to ease my discomfort, I went outside and sat on my front door steps; It was freezing cold, for the first time this winter, and it felt lovely... for a second, untill I broke a sweat and feared I would freeze stuck on the landing.

I can't keep feeling like this, I know. I have known for quite some time, but after blaming life in general, last resort is to blame menopause. I still wish it is a few years away, but it could be happening right now: this may be the actual months I am turning old! Maybe I should celebrate? Mourne?

Anyway. I Googled menopause, but it didn't quite fit. There were a few symptoms I just don't recognize. I won't bore you with the details on that... not untill 15 years or so from now, anyway.

Then I came up with this brilliant idea to type in my symptoms and see what came out of it.

I sat there, in front of my laptop, with my fingers ready to type down any symptom I could come up with. I was thinking the more symptoms the more accurate hit.

Symptoms I added were:

• Strong cravings for sugar (especially right after meals, even though I am full; I just really want that last taste, and that has to be the taste of sweetness). 
• Uneasiness and restlessness in my body (shiverings, diffuse discomfort). 
• Headaches. 
• Giddiness. 
• Exaggerated breathing, almost like walking up a hill (sometimes it's even tough to complete a sentence without an extra breath of air, and singing is hard). 
• Palpitation (I can feel every beat, and some times even how my heart skip a beat). 
• Unable to consentrate. 
• Sleeplessness. 
• Spinelessness. 
• Sadness. 
• Irritability and touchiness 
• Confusion (probably because I can't find myself able to focus). 
• Weight issues. 

In all honesty I didn't use quite as many words. I kept it short and to the point. I wrote down every uncomfortable feeling I could come up with. What scared me, is that the internet came up with many hits, but only one suggestion to what it might be: Reactive Hypoglycemia.

I read all the articles and felt more and more sorry for myself. Words like "rare", "diet", "severe", "treatment" and a few other ones jumping out of the texts started to make sense to me, and I started feeling like a sick person.

And I felt lucky I had only a few of the symptoms, because I would have been devastated if I in addition had feelings and symptoms like anxiety, depression, wave of sobs, cramps, antisocial behaviour, constipation, hunger and thoughts about suicide.

I have felt like all of them, but one. I have never, ever considered or thought about suicide. Well, I have thought about it, just not thought about it as something which conserned me. We all knew someone who comitted suicide, I presume, and it is natural to make up ones mind about it.

Anyway, I have had moments when I, weak as a kitten, found myself curled up on the bathroom floor, calling for my kids to help me and get me a glass of water... just because I just couldn't get up from the floor, but I have always thought "it will pass", which it does because I have no other option, and after a few brief moments I am again able to pull myself together and get up and get going.

Those fits are really unpleasant; they resemble the fits of hypoglycemia I had as a teenager. Back in those days the doctor made housecalls, and I remember Dr. Natvik would come and give me shots in my arm, and tell me to slow down and get some sleep.

Back then my entire body felt like jelly, and I lost control and struggled like a car with a small engine on a steep uphill road. I would shiver and feel very cold, and then very hot and break a sweat the next second.

I don't like this one bit. Just a couple of months ago I had my cancer tests done. I haven't heard anything from the lab or my doctor, which is good. I would have been contacted if there was any sign of cancer. I know the drill, they did last time.

Now I have to go back to the doctor and tell her I think I might be sick or something, because I don't really feel well, and I am not quite sure I am old enough to crumble like this, just yet, for no particular reason at all.

And she will size me up and tell me to change my diet and lose weight and get in shape... again. And I will think to myself: I am in shape... which is round. And I will leave the doctor's office thinking it has nothing to do with the surgery I had 20 years ago removing my choleic system, it's not that I'm overweight or don't wind down enough.

I'll go home and log back on to my online wizard, the internet oracle, and find answers that are more to my liking... and of course: cures.

Wholesome meals.

I am very easilly distracted. It is a fact, and nothing worth discussing: I would lose that exchange of views; Big time! And being distracted is by many considered to be a flaw in one's personality.
I can't really help it, it's just how I am. Then again I haven't done a lot to establish habits or systems to make short shrift with the confusion it sometimes causes. It is confusing though, both to me and others, so I agree it's not a good thing about me. Come to think of it, I have many flaws and errors which affect others I surround myself with; Qualities which make me comfortably imperfect. Comfortable because being imperfect lowers everybody's expectations to me. It gives me the freedom to break out and behave out of standard. You know: dancing in the rain or serve waffles for dinner.

Which one of my imperfections and flaws is the biggest, varies by time and fashion. In example: Most of us act, and live, far from the norm of courtesy you would find in the 1940s. Not that I keep up to that standard, but a couple of people do... I have my values and standards on what is acceptable, and what isn't. I like to think I don't hold prejudices, but of course, like everybody else, I do. I know this, I'm just not very happy about it. So, I am distracted, I have prejudices, I am very shy and therefore perceived as arrogant... the list goes on and on. And yet, right now I think my biggest sin, in the eyes of society in general, is my body.
At least that's the impression I get, judging by the comments so-called friends and acquaintances have the nerve to say out loud to me and about me. A lot of it is ever so rude and quite hurtful at times, and yet those remarks, and their alike, have become socially acceptable. Not only that: they have become normal.

I'm not really fat... I can still tie my own shoelaces, but my belly has through the years become.... hmmmm.... spongy (I did not want to say "like jeasted dough, well risen" because that would have put you off rolls, baguettes and white bread for weeks!).
But unless you get some surgery of a kind done, that is the punishment you are given when you participate in life. At least that is how I comfort myself.

I recently went to the doctor to get my annual cancer tests done. People: it's October and the month to give some consern to the cause: Remember to check yourself for breast cancer (yes, men too!) and go

give the blood needed to get your healthy self confirmed!

(The American Cancer Society’s most recent estimates for male breast cancer in the United States are for 2010:

About 1,970 new cases of invasive breast cancer will be diagnosed among menAbout 390 men will die from breast cancer

Breast cancer is about 100 times less common among men than among women. For men, the lifetime risk of getting breast cancer is about 1 in 1,000. The number of breast cancer cases in men relative to the population has been fairly stable over the last 30 years.)

Since I was already exposed and feeling very small, I asked the female doctor if I by any chance could go on a diet or do any kind of work-out to get rid of my shame, aka: the appearance of my belly. She looked at me in the eyes and shook her head: "Nope, but I can arrange for excess skin to be removed and the appearance of your muscles more defined".
Her reply made me determined to prove her wrong. I can live a normal life, with variety as the core spice in every aspect of my being, and feel good about it. Without having the beautifying surgery done. So what if the trousers are unable to give me the lift-tighten-slim look no matter how I wiggle to put them on. I still get a muffin-top.

The medias have made it into something we should focus on and adopt as an obsession, and we read about it everywhere: in the newspapers, online, numrous books and magazines: The right diet and food can make us healthy, slim, strong, sexy, beautiful and adorable. No wonder we get so focused on diets: who wouldn't want to hit the jackpot and be all of above? These days to stay away from gluten is the new right thing to do. "No gluten" is the new "low carb" (unless the preferred diet changed during the last two hours).

Low carb was in 2011 the most popular word in Norway, and the most frequently googled word the same year. I can only imagine what "no gluten" will be like.
We switch to the better and more efficient diet with ease, and start eating the diet for yet another sickness. Not that many actually have lactose intolerance, but we stick with the diet to become a better person. Only 1% have intolerance for gluten.

There is an increasing pressure to take responsibility for our body and health. And especially women with higher education are very preoccupied with what not to eat. The no-list of food and ingredients gets longer day by day.  It's like as if it turns into an unhealthy obsession. The enthusiasm for changing the current diet is increasing, it's like taking over the search for meaning of life.

As human beings we are so predictable. We still most often think that going out includes a meal, and we choose restaurants by their rumour and the reviews. And then, after having chosen where to eat, dressed up and arranged for babysitter, we go to fancy restaurants only to move food around the plate.  We end up never eating the carefully cooked and presented dishes. What we ordered may be fashionable in the food world, but it is not by any means compatible to the diet world.
I used to love long and lazy meals with something nice in the glasses. I used to cook and find joy in flavours and good ingredients.
Not so much anymore. Many don't compliment the chef anymore, instead we hear about how many calories can be found in the meat, the bread, the sauce...; nothing kills conversation about life's peculiarities more efficiently than that.

I always took into considerations different lifestyles and allergies. Allergies of fish and eggs, even gluten, vegetarian and vegans alike.
One time my son was celebrating his birthday party and we served the traditional rice porridge. At Christmas a almond is placed in the pot of rice porridge and who ever finds it in their bowl wins a prize-usually a marzipan pig. And the lucky person who won the pig might say, to express his satisfaction, that he was in the middle of a butter island. That is to say in the middle of the hot porridge's melting butter.

I knew one of the kids came from a vegan family, so I asked his mother if she had any experience in cooking the porridge using rice milk. She told me not to make too much of it. He had never participated in the almond in the rice porridge ceremony, so it was ok. He could bring food from home. I found that very touching that she didn't want me to be bothered with their alternative lifestyle, but it also made me even more determined he should not only participate: he should also find the almond.
I asked what I could give him as a winning prize.

I made porridge the traditional way for the party, and with rice milk for him. I explained to the 23 boys that part of the game was to trick eachother by rolling their tongue in their mouth as if they had found the almond... but never reveal it untill all the plates were empty. They ate so much porridge.
The boy had such a sneaky smile on his face it was priceless. I watched him, and he played the game with glory. He found one of the 6 almonds hidden.

When I gave him the chocolate bar his parents had agreed upon, he ran over to his father and asked if he was allowed to eat it... and he cried when his dad said yes.

There is a doctor in the USA who came up with the expression orthorexia.
It worries me that food has become something we use as a sign of personal excellence. A healthy, slim and well toned body gives you status and sends signals of self control, and the diets makes the strive easier and more concrete.
It IS a good thing to eat healthy and to be active, but I believe food gets a lot of unhealthy attention. More and more doctors and dieticians are getting really worried about the psychological and social consequenses people's attitude towards food may cause.

Some say we overfeed but malnourish ourselves. Some say we underfeed and overnourish ourselves. I just want meals to stay the highlights of a day, when we gather around the table and have those good, soulful and silly conversations.

When we face eachother and grant our senses the pleasures of smells, textures, tastes and colours, while we laugh, get serious, turn sad and silly and feel like a wholesome family of friends.
To dare to let go of time and the daily rat race. To use the senses we received as gifts when we were brought into this world, disregard the rules of a perfect appearance and just enjoy...
That is to live life to the fullest.




Who are more likely to see behind the "flaws" we might have? Men.... or women?

Arduous Riding a Bicycle

This is a  picture I found online.
My brother had a deep purple bike like this.

I learned how to ride a bike standing under the bar on my brother's racerbike.
I must have been about 5 years old, so I fit pretty fine... even though my knees touched my chest and my bum hit the bar, every time one of the pedals peaked on top. The sight of me like this on the bike, noticeably concentrating, must have been pretty hilarious, but back then I just didn't care. I don't think something like what it looked like even crossed my mind. It was all about doing and achieving. I was thrilled by the speed. The warm feeling of self esteem, which runs through your entire body when mastering new skills, made me feel a year older, every time I could sneak away and go for a swift ride.
Of course I was not allowed; not because it was dangerous, but because my brother didn't want me to damage his deep purple, quite pricy, wonder. Back then a racer bike was still rare and unusual.

I used to push the bike uphill, to the barn, and then I would charge downhill, standing on the pedals, round the barn, on a rather poor, gravelled carriage way. When I reached the asphalted main road I would start pedaling. The speed was breaknecking, I couldn't reach the breaks. I was like Superman; stretching far in a primitive cage. Thanks to drivers with excellent reaction I am here to tell you this.

You have to love those old fashioned ladies' bikes.
This picture also from the internet.

My sister and mother shared a red ladies' bike. I didn't use that much. The seat hurt my lumbar when I pedaled, which is a pity, because you would break when pushing the pedals backwards. It could have been a slightly safer alternative than the crazed ride I was in habit for.

Oh well, finally, my 10th birthday. When in the 4th grade we were allowed to start riding a bike to school. A rule which in many places is still current. During the previous years we had to walk, but now we were allowed to ride a bike. Oh the joy, the expectation, the pure excitement of rising in the ranks. We would now enter the league of older pupils.


My parents had promised me a bike for forever, and I knew I would get one. Of course I would: I needed one to go to school!
All my friends and peers had gotten a silver ladies' racer bike, with gears. (At that age boys are not taken any notice of, not back then anyway; they had "boy-cooties". Whatever bike they had didn't matter.)

I was out on the fields, when I heard the family car back up in the farmyard. The new, dark brown Saab went silent, and I ran as fast as I could downhill to be there when they opened the trunk. I wanted to be there when the wonder was revealed.
It was my 10th birthday. I still remember the run, my border collie, Nell, was dancing around my feet as we ran.
I heard the cardoor open, I heard it shut. I was almost there.
Almost out of breath I got there in time, leaning slightly over to get the full view of the trunk when it was opened. And there it was: A brand new bike. All mine!

Hey, wait a minute... this was all wrong! I asked my dad where my bike was? "Silly you, this is your
bike. Isn't it nice?" "But it's not like the bike my friends got." I could feel my throat choking up. "No, this is different, I know. This is even better! This is a really solid bike; this will never be broken".

I don't even know if this bike has a name in English, in Norwegian it is called a "kombi sykkel" (= combined bike).
It was dark green, tiny tires, no gears and I was the only kid at school having one.
I can still taste the disappointment.
Later on another girl at school got one too, which I thought was pretty neat, cause then there were two of us at the far back when on a bikeride with the class.

I went everywhere on that bike, for years. I settled with the bike knowing it was that bike, or no bike at all.
And we became good friends, the bike and I. I still have it stored in the barn at the farm. My brother promised me he would keep it untill I come and get it. I might restore it, just for sentimental reasons... or maybe as a reminder to be grateful for what you got, even when it is really, really difficult.

13 years ago, after two pregnancies, I gained quite a few kilos. Having one son eager to ride his bike, and a 1-year old in a pram, I decided to buy a bike. I got myself a lovely, white ladies' bike with a basket up front and a children's bicycle seat at the back. I even got my first helmet! Both my kids loved our trips to the store. My thighs ached and my back hurt, but I was riding a new bike, my hair was waving in the wind and I was loving it!

I got a flat tyre, and had to fix it... after I put the tools away. When I got back outside my bike was gone. Stolen! My neighbor's fashionable, hitech, alloy bike was still parked outside his house, but mine was gone.
The lock was cut and left behind.

Some people are loyal enough to stick with their motivations. I am not one of them.
It took me years to get a new bike.

So, I got myself a new bike. Apart from the occasional bikeride with my kids, I left it alone. Standing in a corner in the yard with soft tyres and the bicycle chain turning more and more the colour of fall.

Now, on the other side of the world a man, not in the best of shape, got a bright idea about two years ago, or so.
Suddenly he posted pictures of himself on facebook with very revealing bicycle gear. You know: the proper shirt tight as sausage skin, bicycle shorts, helmet and a very impressive bike.
The pictures he posts show impressive mileage and a steadily firmer appearance.
The other day I sent him a message:
- You weren't this keen on riding a bicycle a couple of years ago.. mid life crisis? Bored?
The reply came swiftly: - Fuck off! and yes. I am so fit and loving it. Lost 30 kgs.

30 kgs. I could do with a weightloss like that.
Unfortunately my son refuses to let me ride my bike without a helmet, so I have finally bought one. One of these days it will arrive in the mail.


I can't wait! I love this!


And I am saving up to buy the bike of my dreams.

With the right equipment I'll look dashing in no time!

After all; we all know the right gear is what it takes to make a lifechangeing effort!

Losers lose

It is so darned easy to be fooled by salesmen. I thought it was time to start working out… you know? Christmas is just around the corner and I really want to fit into the gorgeous dress I just bought. Of course I refused the size just right, so it is a tiny bit too tight, but I have been watching “Biggest loser” on TV, and I know the normal weight loss each week ranges from 4 to 12  pounds, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I just need to exercise a little.

I dressed up in my newly bought super training gear, curled up in the sofa and waited for the sweating, puffing and red face to set in. I know those are sure signs you burn calories. The trainers always yell it out: “You don’t even breath heavily yet! You don’t even sweat”! It is far from the cheapest outfit, and the salesman at the store promised me it was of very good quality and actually top notch.

You can imagine my astonishment when neither my breathing nor my pulse increased. Not even a trifle. He was very clear about it; there was no room for misunderstandings, when he told me that equipment is everything when it comes to working out and training. Using what I bought, I would find the work out work like wonders, dead easy, no sweat.

I admit I got a bit startled at that point, because I know the sweating part is very important, but then I figured that thinking about the competitors in “Biggest loser” they don’t wear any fancy colors or fabric made out of something I can’t even pronounce (much less spell): They wear tight shorts and cotton t-shirts, so of course MY outfit has some function which eliminates the discomfort of damp and wet stains (which is a good thing, cause my sofa would have turned rather ghastly looking when the full effect of my training gear sets in).

And yet, even though my expensive purchase has all of these wonderful qualities, and gives me the opportunity to follow my favorite TV shows while I drink my tea in enjoyable manner, I can’t help but feeling a bit ripped off.

I am seriously thinking about returning it. I have not found out how much I have lost yet, since I got this profound remonstrance to getting on a scale, but I doubt it will be two digits. My dress is still a bit tight, you see… there is a chance it has even shrunk a little while hanging in my wardrobe (warmth and such can do that sometimes to clothes), the zipper doesn’t seem to be working right, either.

My belly is not as flat and defined as I expected it to be after 5 days, and my thighs are not quite fit for skinny jeans either. It is like as if the miracle promised is absent, I don’t feel the change happening. From all the hours I have worn the outfit (and believe me; the colors are really unbecoming and not flattering at all, and the fabric is so clingy it reveals EVERY extra curve on my bulk corpus.

Is it possible I may be bought a ruined outfit?

Own your beauty in your own way

I gave my word... *sigh*

Being me is really ok most of the time, but there are times when I wish somebody would take charge, be firm and save me from myself and my own stupidity.

You might wonder what I did this time? On an impulse I did what I know I should never have done… not only that, but I have always known this would be a really stupid idea. And yet; I did it: I gave up what I love the most to eat: Chocolate! (I pointed out I can't give up both chocolate and ice-cream, but I did say I would not add any sprinkling or sauce.) Not only is this what I cherish the most as a treat; I am literally a chocoholic!!!

I have to be fair: It way my own impulse, my idea, that I actually made a deal with someone I would not eat any candy untill August, and he told me the same thing (... only he included soda as well, but I hardly ever drink that, so that will be his struggle). The reason why I committed this lunacy, was an act of sympathy to someone I don’t even know very well… or, I do know him fairly well, but not in person. To be honest I am not even sure he's got a real problem.

For my part it was the thought of a very nice dress I wanted to wear for Christmas, which didn’t look good on me. Next Christmas I want to fit into what I think is cool, rather than just wear what I find on a rack, which fits. And thinking about the amount of chocolate I eat; giving it up is bound to make a difference to my waistline.

I never really think about myself as too heavy, overweight, obese or any other of the fancy, fashionable expressions used to explain people with a little extra packaging. There is something indulgent implied in those expressions, like as if everybody suffering from weight issues does something fundamentally wrong with their lives.

Same thing goes if we look at the other end of the scale: underweight, skinny, lean… which really aren’t very positive either. I have to admit this problem is not something I can really relate to, but I have friends who feel themselves looked upon as sick just because there isn’t even a slight hint of love-handles or double chin. They will never be curvy or well turned, and to many that is just as problematic as carrying a bit extra. The comments they get are often taken in just as hurtful as the ones big people get.

I like words like chubby, voluptuous, stout… you know: words which give an indication that: “Yes, I have some excessive body mass, but I am still a nice person to be around.

I totally acknowledge the pros of being of manageable size, but I don’t like how those who try to improve their quality of living by joining in on physically active activities, are stared at and thought of as lazy, undisciplined and careless. The reasons to why and how they got the way they did, are as numerous as people suffering from it. Each has their own story… I have never come across anyone who chose to be of unwieldy or impractical size.

Impractical? Yes! There are challenges involved in being too big or too small… driving a car, buying clothes, passing bars at ticket controls, public transportation, eating out, going to a bar, going to a gym (Which I find really strange, cause after all the gym is what really should have been more accessible.)… you find obstacles everywhere, if you do not fit into what is considered a normal size

Situations very commonly avoided by people overly aware of their size are sexual intimacy, social activities, job interviews, new settings and places, and doctor’s appointments, pictures, mirrors and activities in which it can be hard to keep up with others like walks, bike-rides or situations involving bathing suits. It is rather sad, I think, cause these settings can really provide a better quality of life, on more levels than one. I think.

And when you do pick up the challenge and try to overcome the barriers you are hindered by… well, even to take a stand and stand up for yourself, regardless of this being to speak up or to do something to change, in any way, it is hard simply because when you make yourself a participant you also become more visible and you get more attention.

On the other hand: Appearance is very important in our culture. When a person is of socially accepted size, what is left to blame when things in life goes wrong?

It is a lot easier to not do anything, to put life on hold, and just wait for a better quality of life to set in, just like that, by itself.

I can’t say I am deprived of life to such an extent, I am actually quite happy with myself. Ones I made up my mind not to wait around for magic to happen and stopped wearing huge, dark blue tents, I even get compliments on occasions. (Ok, so people notice my eyes and think they are great, but a glimpse in your eyes is something worth being grateful for, right?)...

Right now I feel my biggest handicap is: I am true to my word. I am SUCH an IDIOT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are chocolate chip cookies candy?

Time to eat right... not to make others rich

"Cut out some of that abdominal fat ewry day by using this 1 strange tip."

"Lose a little bit abdominal fat every day by following this tip"

"Super diet for a flat belly"

These are examples on the ads I get popping up when online. Not quite sure whether to be amused by the strange typos in these ads, or if I should get horrendously upset or just plain offended. The last one would be preferred, as I then could just sulk and be insulted and ignore them with cool arrogance. That is why there would be no wars if women were the ones to lead the world, you know: We would not have wars, but we would have a selection of countries not speaking to each other because we would be jealous or insulted.

Problem is I find it rather hard to be offended, upset or insulted over something which appears to be so ridiculously unprofessional.

There is a business in the town where I grew up which manufactures a diet pill. It is VERY successful. The founder of this company gave many interviews to the media when they first started. He got into a LOT of trouble because of his honesty; he stated that: This is going to be a huge success, basically because people who think they are fat, people who are afraid to get fat and people who are genuinely fat spend any amount of money at all, if they think it helps them losing weight.

I think we, who struggle to keep our BMI down (and we want to keep it down because after all; we have shoes to tie), are trapped in our comfort zone. We all know what would be good for us. To eat vegetables, cut down on dressings and fat, walk short distances instead of driving everywhere. We think we save time on deep fried food and industry prepared dishes. It is, to us, a question of saving time.

For some strange reason we think that while waiting in line for our food to be deep fried, when we sit in the sofa waiting for the delivery man to arrive or while thawing deep frozen food in the microwave before it is ready to be heated, we save a lot of time.

I am not sure what happened to cookbooks, but I know that internet, especially www.youtube.com, is FULL of good recipes, good instructions on how to do and motivation. Use it!  And when I urge you to do so; I do with a reservation. There is a lot of strange food out there. Really. Honestly. Very unintelligible. Fun, but unintelligible.

Commercials tell us that microwave dinners, take away and semifinished meals (just add water, oil, eggs and/or cheese etc…) saves time and are easier to cook. It is not the truth. The truth is that meals like these are so full of salt, hardened fat (to prolong the expiration date) and sugar, we can’t even recognize the dish. But the industry stuff this kind of prefabricated food with so much salt, fat and sugar, which is really cheap, it is really bad for us... in spite of us believing we cook ourselves.

My grandfather used to say: Red is pretty and sweet is tasty. True, but so are many other colours and tastes.

We eat in front of the TV, or at our desk while working, not paying any attention to what we eat or how much. To eat becomes an unconscious thing we just commit. Almost like a habit. We stuff food in, chew and swallow. Taste, texture, the feeling of becoming full are absent, because our mind is set on focusing on something else.

I would really like to take back control on my money, my time and my health. I will never be skinny, and I would not want to be. If I am to watch everything I eat, I would turn out very boring, not as adventurous and too preoccupied with my appearance. I enjoy the diversity of nature and its fruits way too much to limit myself to brown or white food only.

I want all those fraudulent businessmen who think they can cheat me into making them rich, while making myself miserable, to be proven wrong. I want to spend my money on foods I enjoy both shopping (to go grocery shopping can be quite an adventure), prepare, eat and enjoy while eating. I refuse to swallow it down with a diet pill or some powder or sawdust bar, in a hopeless quest to become closer to the media created ideal of a body. I don’t want my food to be something I purchase and eat just because it is time.

 

Calories That Don't Count

We have it on experience (our own and thousands of others) that the following food and situations have no calories to speak of (although the knowledgeable might describe them as unspeakable calories.)
OTHER PEOPLE'S FOOD: A chocolate mousse that you did not order has no calories. Therefore, have your companion order dessert and you taste half of it.

INGREDIENTS IN COOKING: Chocolate chips are fattening, about 50 calories a tablespoon. So are chocolate chip cookies! However, chocolate chip eaten while making chocolate chip cookies have no calories whatsoever. Therefore make chocolate chip cookies often but don't eat them.

FOOD ON FOOT: All food eaten while standing has no calories. Exactly why is not clear, but the current theory relates to gravity. The calories apparently bypass the stomach flowing directly down the legs and through the soles of the feet into the floor, like electricity. Walking seems to accelerate this process, so that a frozen custard or hot dog eaten at a carnival actually has a calorie deficit.

CHILDREN'S FOOD: Anything produced, purchased or intended for minors is calorie-free when eaten by adults. This category covers a wide range, beginning with a spoonful of baby tapioca -- consumed for demonstration purposes -- up to and including cookies baked and sent to college.

UNEVEN EDGES: Pies and cakes should be cut neatly, in even wedges or slices. If not, the responsibility falls on the person putting them away to "straighten up the edges" by slicing away the offending irregularities, which have no calories when eaten. If pie or cake is neatly cut, but the remainder is not easily divisible into equal servings, it's also permissible to even things up ... without calorie consequence.

TV FOOD: Anything eaten in front of the TV has no calories. This may have something to do with radiation leakage, which negates not only the calories in the food but also all recollection of having eaten it. Entire no-calorie dinners are now manufactured and frozen for this purpose.

FOOD THAT DOESN'T TASTE GOOD doesn't count. This is an enormous category covering a diverse range including airline food, cafeteria meals, and dinner at your sister-in-law's. Also dinners manufactured to be eaten in front of the TV.

ANYTHING SMALLER THAN ONE INCH: contains no calories to speak of. For example: chocolate kisses, maraschino cherries, cubes of cheese.

LEFT-HANDED FOOD: If you have a drink in your right hand, anything eaten with the other hand has no calories. Several principles are at work here. First of all, you're probably standing up at a cocktail party (see "Food on Foot"). Then there's the electronic field: a wet glass in one hand forms a negative charge to reverse the polarity of the calories attracted to the other hand. I'm not exactly sure how it works, but it's reversible if you're left-handed.

CHARITABLE FOODS: Girl Scout cookies, bake sale cookies, ice cream socials and church strawberry festivals all have a religious dispensation from calories. It's in the Bible.

CAKES WITH WRITING ON THEM: Primarily fat, starch and sugar, all cakes are horrendously fattening. However, the calories can be eliminated simply by inscribing "Happy Birthday, Charlie" or "Good Luck, Alice" in colored icing. Not only is it unnecessary to decline, it's impolite.

FOOD ON TOOTHPICKS: Sausages, cocktail franks, cheese and the like are all fattening unless impaled on frilled toothpicks. The insertion of a sharp object allows the calories to leak out the bottom.

LEFTOVERS: An extra pork chop, the crust of bread, half a Twinkie, anything intended for the garbage has no calories regardless of what happens to it in the kitchen.

FOOD EATEN QUICKLY: If you are rushed through a meal, the entire meal doesn't count. Conversely, if you have ordered something fattening and now regret it, you can minimize its calories by gulping it down.

CUSTOM MADE FOOD: Anything somebody made "just for you" must be eaten regardless of the calories because to do otherwise would be uncaring and insensitive. Your kind intentions will not go unrewarded. (See "Charitable Foods.")

~Submitted Good Clean Fun Page by Randall Woodman~
(I just made a desperate search, online, and found it.)

Getting ready for spring... ehm..

The sun is shining, it is freezing cold outside, but ever so lovely. One should think that everything is frozen, due to the -4° Celsius, but it’s not. Sitting outside on the stairs in my garden… freezing my bum off and hands shaking so much I at some point was worried I would spill all my coffee, I can see that the crocus, the hyacinths, the daffodils and the snowdrops sprout. A true sign of spring and new life to nature, which has been dormant for the last few months.

Spring, the most optimistic season of the year, is just around the corner. That means that we have to start thinking about how to dress when temperatures rise and both nature and people thaw.

We will no longer wear thermo overalls, excellent for hiding, or huge scarves to cover up that extra double chin; once again we try to avoid showing off what we made such great effort to hide last year.

Every year, when I go shopping for Christmas presents, I find stunning dresses and outfits I would really like to wear to the various Christmas arrangements and parties. But when I take a quick look in the windows I pass, I have to admit they would probably not fit me… or, of course they would fit me in the right size, but the right size is not the size I want them in. So I decide I will get something just as lovely and becoming next year, when my size is the size I want to buy them in. (I am NOT desperate enough to buy the clothes two sizes too small, and keep them for the future day when they fit… but the thought have crossed my mind.)

Problem is: When that lovely piece of clothing has been mourned and I have comforted myself with a coffee mocha and I have found both a couple of presents AND bought another big, dark tent I can imagine makes me look stunning. I am done with the grief over my poor state.

In addition; Our summer is basically a lot of rain and an occasional fortunate day with temperatures above 20 degrees celsius. Swim and beachwear is not really a big issue here, neither is getting your body in shape for beach life. :-(The thing about me not being all wrinkled up yet, is not careful skincare, it is all about being frozen and not getting exposed too much to sunshine.

In lack of real inspiration I forget all about self-discipline and the desire to look dashing. Society is so full of body images based on lies I just choose not to pay attention. It is all unattainable standards anyway.  At least to average women, like myself.

This has become somewhat of a pattern over the last 12 years. Everyday life traps you, and you fall into same old habits you had before.

Not necessarily because it is preferred or really wanted; You do it because you know the strategies you have developed over years, work; They allow you to get things done, and changes in your habits might interfere and interrupt your well planned strategy on how to get time.

Knowing this, I still reached the point when “something” had to change. That something was me. My mood was down, my self-confidence was low, my me-time was non-existent, thousand thoughts buzzed around in my head, and I just never got the time to sort them out and get done with. All in all I figured I was not a very pleasant person to be around, let alone live with.

So what did I do? I invested in the coolest pair of NIKE running shoes ever! The downside is that given the ridiculous prize I have to use them.

So I started off walking really fast four nights a week to gradually learn how to jog. Not only was it BORING it was also so cold my hands and thighs turned numb (Still is, by the way). Not funny, no fun... if it wasn't for the insanely expensive shoes I would NEVER keep it up.... but I did, I do.

Americans talk so proudly about their 3-mile run, so I figured a 3-mile run on a regular basis would be a nice goal. And you know what? It is not that hard! And every time it takes a little less time to complete.

I am not going to extend the distance I run. I need to come home feeling I could have run longer. I need to want to do it next time as well, and for me this works.

Personal trainers often have a lot of good suggestions and mantras. Well they are personal trainers for a reason, and it has to do with lifestyle and interest. I don’t have their personality; I had to develop my own strategy within the reach of my own potential. Pointing fingers really doesn’t work to scare me into a better lifestyle. I have to be left alone and figure out my command level for optimal conditions of life.

 

If it comes to a point when you understand you are not in a good place, and it doesn’t work for you to be around same old, then you must figure out a way to do something about it... or.... at least you will want to, and that is how you start changing what is not good in your life.