She can be part of the army.  Warrior puppet breaks loose in London Town!!!

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I woke up after trying to climb up a little hill made of mud.  It was a path at first and I had just come out of a large department store after having complained about the rudeness of every single worker behind the tills.  I walked up a path with a chinese bloke who happened to be one of the people who was rude to me, and the solid bricked path was between puddles which turned into a river on each side.  The man went first and climbed what wasn’t really even a hill, until of course my feet started climbing it in my new white trainers.  I realised that the mud had started to get softer and that suddenly i was sinking a lot more.  There was no where to run, I tried to go backwards and eneded up being swallowed into a landslide into the river.  I woke before my head went under the mud.

It made me sad, i cried.  I cried because that’s me being swallowed by fat.  My life seems to have already int he last couple of weeks be focused on just how much i have damaged my body and now, it’s fighting back.  I went to the doctors again yesterday.  The sugar in my blood was 7.4 and it has to be below that, below 7.  The nurse is ditzy (she claims herself) yet she is helpful and at least tries to listen.   She also slipped into the conversation that I needed a liver scan.  I asked why?  She told me it was because the blood test had shown it to be ’slightly’ adnormal’ and that ‘this was normal with diabetes patients’.  I somehow didn’t believe her.  I said, why would they need to scan my liver then?  She said, it’s just to make sure there isn’t anything else there.  It is my worse nightmare to have to keep going to the doctors and to hospitals.  I am tired of it already.

My books arrived from Amazon, you know, the ones I cancelled…  That means I shall have two lots counting the ones from play.com.  The books looks informative, GI index, How to reverse Diabetes and two others on Glycemic load.  I wonder if it is possible for me to reverse it.  I know others have, but I am sure that takes some serious control.  I have to leave soon to go to Chelsea and westminister hospital to see the general surgeon.  Not looking forward to this at all.  In my heart I know having the stomach thing done is still a cop out.  I will see, won’t I?

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And so it seems I have created the being which I really somewhere deep down inside never wanted to appear. I was, after a second blood test diagnosed with Diabetes. My Glucose level was 7.0 on the second reading 7.5 and there was I hoping that the sugar high over Christmas had something to do with it.

But, it seems that is wishful thinking, just as it was wishful thinking to think I could carry on being the way I was, feeling the way I do, having seen my Mum go through it, and then somehow fly under the radar. Anyway, now it seems I have to just get on with it and rely on my GP’s surgery to monitor and guide me through this so as not to make me go down hill. But my fear is justified seeing as my GP happily prescribes diet drugs which have only been out on the market for a year and which have a known side effect of suicide!!! Yeah, I really trust my doctor now.

I will write more later on this. I am now on Metformin and blood pressure pills, which by the sounds of what noises the nurse was making this is for good. I asked if it could be reversed, she said no. But then what about the documentary I watched stating that it was possible via food and exercise route. She claimed it could help it not make it go away.

[Two days later or something like that]

I came home early, very tired but then this is how i’ve been feeling. I think more the weight dragging me down than this new thing I have to deal with inside of me. I don’t like the pills, they make me feel bloated and I have headaches constantly. I walked home part the way with debs, and I heard two sets of school girls snigger. I must look pretty odd, struggling to get down the road to the peace of home. Who knows. I pretend like I didn’t hear them, today I have no eneregy to fight verbally with skinny pre teens with bad dress sense and even worse hair.

I don’t believe all the trashy tv progs are doing any good with the constant battle of the bulge against skinny chicks. The Skinny Vs shows haven’t been watched as yet by me, but no doubt will catch one of them on the many internet sites I frequent when I fancy a documentary.  If you can call those any thing close to a doc.

I wish I was off tomorrow, but with all the stuff we have to do on the commissioning bid for work, I am off to one of their workshop things to discuss the application process with Brainy Rachel in tow for looks, style and finance.  My head  aches with it all and I can’t wait until its all over.  No wonder people dream of winning the lottery.  I want something else for my life than worry.

Friday is my day now and I feel cheated out of a day.  Life goes on…

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Today, my cat Lilly died. Lillian Abixaboo was her full pedigree name, she was a stubborn, stroppy Burmese, chocolate brown in colour. Over the last month she had become quite listless and I knew her time was coming. Her behaviour became strange over the past year and her cries were that of a cat who forgot faster than the 2 second goldfish rule. So after us being together since she was a baby and since i was 21… You can imagine already that the call of the death angels was bound to arrive swiftly. Time for the cat angels to pick up her soul on their way to the fish and chip shop in cat heaven. She still lies on my bed, wrapped in my jumper, her head popping out because I have a fear she may not be dead. But there is no movement, no heart beat, no breath and before she died she had what looked like a fit.

Lilly was the oldest cat I knew, I had no idea that she would have lived this long. Giving herself at least a couple more months on planet earth she would have been 24 years old in November. Maybe a bit more, but I have to find her birth certificate to find that one out. I don’t know where that is right now. My eyes are stinging from the tears and my chest feels tight. I wasn’t a brilliant mum to her and she wasn’t a brilliant cat to me. Living in a world of strops and striking out at friends who popped in just because she didn’t take to them being in her space. She was always loveable to me, and I guess that’s all that mattered. I will tell people tomorrow. Tracy said I can bury her in her garden as i don’t really want her at Hornimans. I’m glad she was with me, I’m glad she wasn’t put to sleep. She died because she was old and couldn’t go on much further. but it will be odd, I know it. I know what the smell of death is now. I smelt it on Mummy, but thought it was just me, but Lilly had the same odour too. Not that my mum smelt like a cat, but there was something strikingly familiar about the smell.

I put passion fruit oil on her before wrapping her, so now she smells like a big ole fruit that she most certainly was. How odd it will be not to hear her scream when I walk int he door. Or hear her whine on and bitch to me in her lingo. It got on my nerves some days, but now its gone, what will replace it?

I am tired, but can’t sleep. She’s on my bed. There’s no where else she can be. I need to know she won’t wake up before she goes into the ground at Tracy’s. I dread her being alive and I just don’t know. So I looked up on theinternet and most of what people write is not what she went through. But maybe its my own fears of death underground that prevent me from wrapping her completely.

We shall see. from this day on passion fruit will remind me of this day.

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I posted this on the yahoo group but I had to censor it and not write in my normal bitch fuck way because I didn’t want to offend the other members of the raw group. You know me, all fisher wife and no knickers….

I had an awful evening at work on Tuesday night as some of you may well have read if you can be arsed to read through this drivel and stormed home in a strop to find that I was still in control of my eating *shock horror*. What I mean by that in fat bitch language is, I didn’t order a takeaway or go to the chip shop on the way home. Normally when angry I reach for whatever I can get my hands on and stuff it down my throat without thinking or feeling and whilst either watching a film, reading emails or lost inside my anger. But I didn’t, and I was really happy I didn’t. I had peanut butter on pitta bread with banana. That was rather ice, I stopped at two pitas and not the whole pack so that’s a start right there then.

I followed the menu plan *well that’s not strictly true* I didn’t have a smoothie because I couldn’t be arsed to unpack my blender. But still, I was happy that I didn’t feel the need to binge. I still woke up feeling quite sad on Wednesday, well… quite is not really the word for it. I was fucking sad, I sobbed for a few minutes then watched big brother. I decided to take the day off work and stay home away from what had made me angry in the first place and you all know what that was? Fucking cunting work and the people there - I also didn’t have the energy to continue feeling so furious. I felt a rush of energy mid morning (probably the thrill of taking the day off) which is odd for me and was a bit of a shock to be honest. It was enough to tidy some of my kitchen cupboards and then pamper myself for the rest of the day.

I felt relaxed all day and happy to have taken time off to have my own head space and to give myself some time. Most of the day I found that I was hunting for food (on the prowl as per normal) without realizing how I had even ended up at the fridge. I’m a grazer and like to nibble throughout the day, so I’m happy to say that every time I opened the fridge to graze, I stopped myself because i wasn’t hungry. I ate a late lunch consisting of cucumber, tomatoes, fresh basil and olives. I watched the F word, with ole Gordon and I didn’t want anything else until much later in the day when I finally made a favourite dish of mine, couscous salad. So being able to stop and think throughout the day and ask myself, ‘am I hungry’ and my answer being a ‘no’ was a good feeling for someone who most days feels so out of control with their eating. In fact, it was a frigging odd feeling to recognise that there was no hunger s why eat? I was focused on how I felt inside, and if I needed the food…for the first time in a very very long time. It was a break through and if I can keep finding that voice inside my head I shall be ok, because it makes me answerable to me. I also have a sty coming up on my eye which is bugging the life out of me. But hey fucking ho. Oh I now have a buddy - but I can’t speak of that in detail on here.

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Today, i woke up very tearful. I had a crap day at work yesterday. Weezy made some reference to a late night in the summer and pretty much thought she could question my authority of why it was on the programme and that it would eat into her social life. I really don’t give a flying fuck to be honest! Basically, what i say goes. End of. In a staff meeting where it was being discussed she ‘zoned out’ so who’s problem is that then? Not mine. If you don’t listen and say what you feel at the time at least have the decency to bring it up when the kids aren’t around. Today I hate every one of them.

Not one of them gives a flying fuck about the job, none of them had to work hard to get it, or wonder whether someone else would be chosen over them. Wait until they have to get out there into the big fucking world. I wanna be a fly on the wall for that one. . They say they do. I only wish someone had believed in me that much to offer jobs out on a plate bvased on whats right for the kids at the centre rather than whether or not they can get through a fucking interview. If they all would have been scored on interview technique, they all would have failed and not got the job. They were given something, someone believed int hem, but they just can’t fucking see it. So staying till midnight once in a whole fucking 6 weeks causes a big hoohah!

Fuck the lot of them. I am sick of spineless idiots who think they are working to max when really they know damn well they are working to the minimum they can give. Faggoty just hovers chatting to Mon all day long, empties a few bins and thinks that’s his job done. I am sick of them all and they can all go to fucking hell. I am not going in today, maybe I won’t bother going back. Fucking freaks. You give people things on a plate and they have to eat your fucking arm too. I am tired, really drop dead tired and i don’t have the energy for that shite.

Yesterday I spoke with Karen on the phone and in the matter of fifteen minutes, two people knocked on the fucking window of the office. i was so pissed off. Anyway, I would like to think that I am going to really try for this to change myself. She was very kind and is down to earth enough. But i do believe that maybe, as much as she allows for most things, I get the feeling I am still supposed to be all up and jumping about for joy after two days. Well its not going to happen now is it? I made smoothies which were great, I had a light dinner with roast beef slices only. It was nice. I haven’t cut back too much ont he tea drinking but it fills me up. I don’t really know what I will do all day. I guess I could try to clean out the kitchen. I feel like staying in bed. i got dressed to put the bin out and when I came backup, i just cried.

I don’t like my life at the moment. I am feeling so low and confused and I wish I had the money to actually run away. trouble is, once again, i’d have to take me with me. Then there isn’t much point is there?

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Today, I made my first smoothie.  I brought in a big bag of baby spinach, and two Granny Smith apples, chopped the apples and added some fizzy water into Hornimans smoothie machine.  Its amazing really and you know what?  Bloody tasty goodness.

I had the call last night to the raw group and I was so tired and hungry, hadn’t eaten and then realised I hadn’t even recharged the landline phone so had to call in on my mobile, so god knows what that wil cost…  So I come on in the middle of this blokes intro.  Didn’t say anything till the end when really what i said made no real sense at all.  I guess I was so tired, so hungry and by this time is was twenty to ten.  Knackered I felt a bit of a twat, but went to eat hot food as I had eaten my fifty percent raw.  So i had a tea, cooked up some fresh pasta, mince (yes I know but she said we could have our normal evening meal) and parmasan and cheese sause.  Tsk.  So obviously I woke feeling heaby and bloated and so so tired I could hardly walk.  She said last night that our tatsebuds have memories.  They remember what we had the day before so we may be able to brush off that huge cream cake but our tatse buds call for more the next day.  Interesting.

I am feeding my heart most days, not listening what my head is telling me.  So to drink this fresh green thang this early (well it’s 10am) is quite something.  i enjoyed making it and realised it really doesn’t take that long.  This afternoon I am going to have some berries smoothed, of course, if they’re still int he freezer.  Add water too, pity there isn’t any orange today.  I brought the rest of the fresh pasta and parmasan (huge tub) in for weezy.  I realised that if I want to feel the benefit, i shall have to up the game as karen said.  So i am.  I just haven’t had time in the eve to write in my nice new fat book…  I want to, so will do that at the weekend.

I booked my fifteen mins (although it looks like on the info sent that its basically only 10 mins) call with Karen today at 11am.  I need to at least explain that I find it overwhelming, maybe I am so used to sabotaging myself that I needed that extra something to make me say ok, its time….

Lets see, it feels like a healthy green day…

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I’m feeling raw today, let alone it being the first day on the 30 days to raw which is run by Karen Knowler, raw food guru! Yesterday was Sunday and my shopping, ordered on Friday came. I had stupidly ordered loads of crap stuff, thinking I would be in Famine mode again and war was approaching - usual shite really. So, I ordered crap. Ice cream, cake, red meat…. Most i gorged out on yesterday and on Friday night, i had an Indian Take away. Bad Bad move seeing I always order for a small country. It made me feel sick and hd to obviously be eaten over the period of two days. By then, you’re in the mode of guilt, the fullness in the belly has gone and the guilt sets in and you know that the other order for sainsburys made on the same day, needs to be altered. So I go to the sainsbury website, but its gone past the time of when they allow you to change the order. So now I am panicking. I have more crap food coming and my Raw eating needs to be monitored from Monday. Sunday will take some binging to get rid of the food that shouldn’t be in my home.

I was supposed to clear cupboards, clear surfaces and get prepared for the 30 days. Instead, I ate and watched films. I spent a few hours after stuffing my face, reading the ebook provided by Karen, feeling guilty, hating myself and looking at myself in the mirror, looking at the mound of what resembles uncooked cooking dough. Not nice, but it facinates me to look at it. Anyway, I had odd dreams, dreamt of Hugh Laurie for some unknown reason, in a not very dyke friendly mode….

So, today is Monday and here i am. At work, with an open bag of carrot sticks and orange in front of me. I have already eaten the radishes, apple and two cups of tea. I likeit that karen doesn’t make you eat breakfast. i already know that i am a grazer and don’t begin that until ten ish. Unless of course I am eating crap. I had curry for breakfast yesterday. Am I ashamed, kind of. Thn I shopped. I have spent over a grand this month on shopping. Just shopping for bits and bobs for greeting cards, material for aprons (a new little turn on a business idea) in fact, anything just so as I could spend. I can’t keep that up. Over a grand? On little bits to gather dust. Something is really wrong with me at the moment. I only hope that the doctor reads my letter and allows me to go see a therapist for CBT, sooner rather than later. I feel as though I will explode. Karen wants us to write a journal diary, which I like the idea of, but its easier to type it. the energy will come from my head into my arm and onto paper. I may give it a go later when I am home. I’m tired, upset and moody. Barb said to me that i can’t have gone through life not knowing myself at all. I think i have, to a certain level. I don’t think i really know what makes me tick. or maybe I want to believe that cause it makes it easier to deal with hating myself so much and my failings rather than success’s. Who knows, it tires me.

So this week I am to monitor why I eat, when I eat, what’s going on when i reach for some things. More than not its a habit, i eat because its there, not because I am hungry. It is like having a fag, I eat the way I smoked. This will be hard, I must try to figure it out. As for posting up a picture on the yahoo group, i don’t think that’s going to happen. I don’t have any recent ones. I will read more today from the ebook and see where it leads. The chat is tonight at 8pm, normally i am exausted by then when I get in. But, lets see what comes fourth. i think she thinks we need to be all dead up, very ‘American’ in our approach. Well, I want to see what’s what first and this is for me, no one else. I can only say yes I am committed and will monitor my eating and hopfully understand more about me, more about eating raw and feel better about myself.

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My sister was kind enough burn her Paul *monster* McKenna CD’s for my perusal, several choices of different things which all in all (I can’t remember them off by heart) are mostly aiming at the same devil inside anyone fat, lacking in confidence or needing that certain something… God knows what. But you know what? I’ll pretty much try anything these days, not that i think this is going to do it on its own, but it was worth a try.

After big brother had been closed down int he 4OD browser, I decided to pop the CD into the computer. I laid back on the bed, ready and waiting for paul McKenna to crawl on in… If I could but explain the droan of voice, so much so that half of the time I couldn’t understand him, then when the devil took over and he started speaking in tongues, I laughed my head off. I text Weezy and professed to wanting to kill Paul… I’m not sure how long I can stomach his voice more than anything. maybe that’s how he gets people to stop eating, his voice drills so deep into the person that they feel like vomitting when he stops…. So no longer getting that urge to eat!

Anyway, I listened until the end of the CD, text Weezy a few more times and then dozed off probably through boredom. I dreamt of fish and chips….

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