People say talking to yourself is the first sign of madness... actually I think that statement is a bit blip now... I find it rather therapeutic, specifically via this portal... it's like that completely gratifying, blood-curdling scream you let fly in the car when hurtling along the motorway. Sure, fellow motorists think I must be related to Steven Tyler but (after I've put the window up - bugger) and have another crack I think who gives a shhhh... right? coz it feels friggin' fantastic :-)
Translation: "Shhhh"... an acceptable form of using the international word for crap i.e. SHIT in a non-offensive way, more so apparent in American 'radio edit' versions of pop songs. Personally I think its absolute bollix and slightly embarrassing because it proves I've obviously listened to said pop songs that influenced it's absolute ridiculous popularity probably more than once... crikey :-O
So yeah... now we've cleared that up, back to talking to myself.... of which I've totally lost track of where I was going with that (I know... nothing's changed!). I think it was just me having a wee bit of a pity party because I blame myself for losing my blog readership... which didn't really exist anyway but I spiked some interest for a while, almost double figures in fact! And then... well let's be honest, it wasn't that I didn't care, I just got... umm... yeah, lazy.
Actually no... I got busy AND lazy. Yep I'm "BAZEY" I think I am the only person in existence that is talented enough to claim the amalgamation of both. Boom! What is that... a contradiction, an oxymoron or just pure genius? Look I never thought I'd be the type to be caught up in my day job but geez you know I think I have?! I was talking to a good friend of mine Bishalicious and we both agreed that we have almost totally sold ourselves to the demon beast that is the 8-5 'er and 24/7 stress witch.
Its funny not only do I actually miss the Stylz that threw herself into plays and auditions and god knows what else and it seems that I'm not alone - amazing and awesome to think that - thanks! I never worried about how many people came along to shows I was involved in. I used to feel bad when people apologised profusely for not attending because they were under no obligation as far as I was concerned but when they did I loved it.
I had a think about it and realised I probably now have a window of opportunity to commit to something creative for oooh... a pitiful 3 months of a year... and frankly there just hasn't been anything timely or suitable for me to sink my teeth into! Now coming from a girl who would bust out a coupla shows a year and perhaps a wee bit of something on the telly I am rather disappointed in my efforts!
With a massive year behind me of spouting personal growth and healing I think its about time I sorted this out, right? Yep I agree. Blimmin' poor showing Vik. Watch this space.
Now that we've addressed one of the elephants in the room... let me touch on the subject matter of this post.
SOY.
Okay I've probably just lost the last of you. But oh I'm going there... yep - read it, or not.
Soy is shhhh...
Probably just redeemed myself there...
Okay so let me explain... to my avid readers you've heard me harp on about the mono-ab and its ability to appear and disappear literally overnight (like most of my past relationships) and I yo-yo diet more than AJ Hacket has hot dinners because inevitably I get 'Bazey'. Well, I tell ya, did life kick me in me big bazey butt or what.
Yep. I had 'tests'. I had the "please call the nurse urgently" text message. And then those words most women in their 30's and comfortable with denial do not want to hear "you do realise you're in your 40's now..." Aw crap.
No more jokes... I had to make changes. REAL changes. That stick and that are not just part of an ongoing animated convo with the girls over a juicy Merlot and some jalapeno tempura or hell pizza (depending on the proximity of payday). Where its 'all in', you're totally committed, enthusiastic and everything starts "next week!" and the results are... you don't eat for 2 days after out of guilt and let's face it - potentially hungover. Plus, you don't see the girls for at least 6 months after for two valid reasons, jealousy; there's at least one chick that sorts her shit out and looks fantastic and that just pisses you off no end and, embarrassment; you know you're bigger than the last girls night no matter what you stuff yourself into, how many hours you starve yourself beforehand and how long you can hold your bloody breath while simultaneously sucking your guts in while sitting in too tight jeans.
And then... you get told no more mucking around. Vikki Stylz, This Is (literally) Your Life. Ooh...faaark.
It took me about 4 weeks before I got the balls to introduce the Soy. It still sucks, it's freakin' weird, it takes an extra shot to kill the funky 'old sock rinsed in nut-juice' after-taste and it's STILL not even close to a large mocha with 2 marshmallows (skinny milk and no extra sugar though - what's the big deal???) but I have stuck to it and this weekend marks my 8-week anniversary.
Crikey I've even cut down the coffee consumption because there's no way I can drink that weird hippy concoction more than once or twice a week.
Oh how it broke my heart. I have said goodbye to so many things lately I've kind talked myself into some form of malnutrition affliction who's major symptom is waves of extreme loneliness for various edible crap, like M & Ms. Or cheese. Carbo-loads. Or that illusive trim mocha latte. Or just a friggin luncheon and sauce sammidge for christsake!!!
But unlike my "you look well" dilemma I blogged about pre-doctor's orders... I actually do. Feel. Am.
Monoab has wriggled down an impressive number of dress sizes, skin is hydrated, sleep is awesome, glossy healthy hair oh and it would be inappropriate for me to mention movements or motions so I'll avoid that. (Woops...dammit!!!). And by crikey do I feel like a sexy 40-somethin' Mama with nice pegs and a teeny little butt.
So trying a healthier lifestyle, for people like me, is a pain in the ass let's face it... but it actually does help. I'll sustain it as best I can - oh I will totally fall off the wagon... probably every turn, land in the mud and most likely animal poo too but the fact I actually bought the wagon itself as my preferred form of transportation is the main thing.
(Do NOT tell me that you didn't think that analogy rocked...)
Okay so totally workin' my size 10 non-stretchy jeans without a muffin-top and artificial breathing apparatus is awesome... I couldn't ask for a better life than where I'm at and the rest of the adventures ahead, the lessons learned, the ones to come, the bond of friendship and the embrace of family. Everything is cool and I'm so okay living in my single world...
But.
Look it may just be worth considering...
I mean... I might just almost be ready... I dunno? Is their like a pee-stick test I can take to find out if my insides are suitably prepared?
And hey... mull over this "hypothetical" situation - is having a crush on someone you don't even know count or is that just slightly odd and potentially psychotic? Coz that's so not the look I'm going for... if it was me of course, but we're talking hypothetical here... so its not... K? Back-off. Geez, calm the farm.
Finally the 64,000 dollar question - what IS the deal with Tinder? That so cannot be my only option.
Balls. Or lack thereof... please read, please comment, its totes a cry for help. Or a hookup :-)
Stylz - Re-sized and edited for Television and... LIFE ITSELF.
xxx
PS - Drinkin all this soy and harpin' on about gluten-free-this and non-fat-that just wouldn't be right without an Ode to my lovable self... so here it is for your reading pleasure... those that saw it performed at the poetry evening will know that it is MUCH better when in the flesh...as am I... but hey... close your eyes and think of me - well, HALF of me now bitches!!!!!
ODE TO THE MONO-AB
Have you ever had
A love-hate relationship
With a body-part.
The attachment is purely physical
But insanely emotional
You do what you can to ignore it
Then, stupidly, you feed it. Literally.
You scale it, measure it, suck it up, poke at it
Stuff it, squeeze it, crush it,
wrap it in cling film…
(Just once...)
It would work a charm, if sweat glands didn't exist.
You make fun of it, cry over it, admire it, despise
it
And yet somehow…love it, because it’s part of
YOU.
That’s me and my mono-ab
There can be only one.
The noose around my neck
(Or the tire on my tummy)
All my freakin’ life
Blocked, bloated and bulging or
Shrunken, flabby and gurgling
She’s there…
Just…
Hangin’.
When the mono-ab is under control
Wearing jeans and breathing simultaneously –
rocks.
When not and your fly explodes in public – not
so much.
A trapped bulbous mass, crushed in half
is a fleshy pressure-cooker
The zip has no chance.
Frantic crotch grappling is a reality, when
you’re a chubba-chup.
And not in a good way.
It's nice at the end of the day – to peel the
jeans off
And not look like you've been hacked to pieces, and survived.
Or, you’re limbs have been sewn
on, by Frankenstein
I have no right to cram poor mono-ab into such
a confined space
Its belly abuse – the naval protests…
What naval?
I have a naval?
Ssstop it…
I’ll Google-map it later…
Camel toe… Is. Not. Good.
Just putting it out there
Or NOT.
Mono-ab thinks its fricken hilarious
It isn't.
You don’t purchase fashion for the mono-ab
You pray for an illusion
Or an app
Called “Hide the Life Preserver”.
There are so many positives…
When a mono-ab lay dormant… for instance
It's nice to put back fat behind me.
oh come on that was GOLD
You see, a supportive bra, above a cooperative
mono-ab
unlike the mono-gremlins
does not multiply 14 pairs of nipple-less
breasts
unless you feed it after midnight
And… it’s nice to wear undies that do not
require retrieval
with a drill bit and a mining crew.
Although that does sound like fun…
In saying that – all credit to the mono-ab,
it has always been considerate
It never stood in the way of any ‘exploratory expedition’
Well… not intentionally.
However, mono-ab...
We've been close over the years,
we've had good
times and bad,
but I shall never forgive you for getting in
the way
of my talents to give myself…
A phenomenal pedicure.
Among other things.
You know… obsession
is good for the mono-ab.
Desire your way to
thin…
Perv away the pounds…
Who needs to breathe
when you have a crush?
Suck that puppy in
24-7
If you turn purple…apply
more makeup
Amazing results, very
little effort
I see the makings of
a best-selling series of
self-help pamphlets:
"Free from fat
through fantasy: A chubber's guide”
“Obsessive Compulsive
Mono-ab”
“Mono-ab for Dummies”
"Mono-ab
Anonymous is for Anorexics"
"Camel-toe –
Just Say NO"
"Defining your
obsessive boundaries around your mono-ab"
"Beware the fake
obsession - Mono-ab Sabotage"
"When mono-abs
go bad"
"Falling off the
wagon..."
(Followed closely by
the sequel…)
"Losing the
wagon IN your mono-ab"
“Love me, LOVE.. MY.. MONO-AB”
and finally…
"Thin, but
slightly bonkers... who cares, I'm thin"
© Vikki Cottingham 2013
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