Goddess of Plenty...

...plenty of dishes, plenty of carbs, plenty of drinks....

I'm 3 weeks into my fitness program and I have to say this week I had too much plenty.

It was my birthday so I treated myself.  With a special dinner and plenty of cake.  And I don't feel the slightest bit of guilt.  I have recently taken up baking and I enjoyed the fruits (okay the chocolate ganache) of my labour.  In fact, I enjoyed it twice.

My work colleague recently did me a huge favour and fixed my computer.  He bought it back from the dead.  I baked him scones to say thank you.  I ate some of the scones.  With Jam. And Cream.  Because. Scones.

I didn't feel guilty about that either.

The scales may not weigh in my favour this week - but I'm in this for the long run.  It's not about dropping massive kilos, it's not about looking like anyone else, it's about finding the best version of me.  If I only drop 2 kilos but feel strong, healthy and happy then so be it.

But hell if you can't enjoy cake (and maybe a couple of scotches) on your birthday then quite frankly I'd like to quit the human race now.  Because life is for living, enjoying, relishing and taking immense pleasure in.

Oh and hey, now that I'm baking and not poisoning anyone, I guess I'm a goddess in another room of the house now?  Ha!  But just for balance, I must confess I'll never be a goddess of housework. Because UGH.

Kill me now if I ever blog about the joys of ironing...

Food, food, glorious food

I'm going to come right out and say it. I LOVE FOOD.  LOVE IT.  I'm not one of those "eat to live" people.  I'm not necessarily a "live to eat" person either.  But I love food.  I love healthy, nutritious food and I love super rich, fatty, clog your arteries feel guilty afterwards food.  Eating is an awesome experience.  I cherish food.  We're all clear on how I feel about food, right?  But sometimes I can go a whole day without eating.  I forget.  What type of person who loves food, can forget it?  But I do.

The best way to describe my eating habits is indiscriminate.  Now that I'm over 40 though, this indiscriminate eating habit of mine is not working for me.  Oh, it's fine in your teens and early 20s...but not so much now.

I'm a fairly active person.  I don't go to the gym.  I don't walk daily, in fact I'm a bit of a couch potato from about 6:30 onwards most weeknights.  But from the moment I get up, til the moment I sit down and watch the umpteenth re-run of Friends that I STILL find funny (Oh Chandler marry me, I love you still) I pretty much lay on the couch, drink cups of tea and occasionally scrounge whatever sweet stuff I can find in my pantry during the commercial breaks.

That's pretty hard for me because I don't buy rubbish food.  In fact I order my food online so I don't get tempted at the supermarket chocolate aisle, or the chip aisle or the fridges that stock the soft, gooey cheese that I like.  So I end up eating tablespoons of milo, nutella or lemon spread on the occasions the sweet cravings get the better of me.

On the weekends I have my children, Saturday night is junk food night.  They get to choose so it's generally pizza or MacDonalds, eaten with much gusto and fighting over who's getting that extra chicken nugget.  Yes I take food out of their mouths.  Mother. Of. The. Year.  I've even occasionally hidden treats and opened them after they went to bed.  Because I deserve it.  You know, being a single parent and all.  Actually just for breathing.

But now has come the time to take stock, put down the fairy bread and stop eating cheezels off my fingers (unless it's my birthday - then all bets are off).

So I've done something I swore I'd never do, because I don't believe in "dieting" and I don't believe a person's life focus should be how small their bum is in a pair of jeans.  But I signed up for a fitness program.  I'm not interested in becoming super skinny.  I'm never going to be that girl.  Even when I was at my fittest, I still had an arse that had people quoting Sir Mixalot at me.  I have curves.  I like my curves.  I'm not that fond of the jelly centre that's covering the curves at the moment, nor am I fond of the way my jeans seem to cut into me by about 3:30pm every day.  It's an uncomfortable feeling.

Now I'm cool with being outside my comfort zone, but I don't think worrying about your muffin top is what people are referring to when they use that saying, so it's time do something about it.  And I know me. I'm a team player and I'm competitive so to sign up to something where others are involved seems worth a shot to me.

So this blog is putting it out there. Holding me accountable.  I've got a friend on the outside and a work colleague on the inside to help keep me honest.  Oh I'm 100% positive I'll slip up and sneak a cheezel, and a few scotches, but life is still for living.  But I want to be sure I'm around to live it. So I'm going to give this thing a go.

Let's hope I'm not too sore to blog about the progress.  Let's hope I'm whiny and funny about the places I never knew I had to hurt.  Please God, let ME find it funny at least.

Cat Food and Sad Movies

I find it interesting being a single woman who has just reached her 40s.  Apparently it's all cat food and sad movies for the rest of my life.  When I meet married couples for the first time, it's invariably the woman who susses out my relationship status. Then she, for the most part, (there are some rare exceptions) falls into two categories.


The first category is  'The Women Who Pity'.  These women treat me like I'm some bizarre failure for not being in relationship.  I'm quizzed on my past relationships, current dating habits and future goals for finding a husband so I can be a whole person.  Silly me for thinking I already am.


The Second Category is 'The Women Who Run'.  This is generally the wife who immediately grabs her husband and finds an excuse to no longer talk to me.   Clearly, all I'm waiting for is for the wife to leave the husband in front of the dip plate to make my move.  




Oh yeah, that's right - I'm not.


Most people find it weird that I'm happy being single.  So much so, that I've actually stopped saying it.  I'm either not believed or treated like a bra-burning, extreme, man-hating feminist.  Let me set you straight on that.  I'm not a liar and I don't hate men. So, in a scenario which is quite different from a famous scene in Sex and the City where Miranda comes clean with the simple statement that she's not seeing anybody, I say something else.  I say it would be a wonderful favour if people would keep an eye out for someone suitable.  This charade has the added bonus of letting the insecure wives know I'm not after their husbands and makes 'The Women Who Pity' feel useful.  Possibly one day, it may even have the bonus of helping me to actually meet someone suitable, but as yet, no luck.


Now here's the killer: I would like to be in a relationship.  But that doesn't mean I'm unhappy being single.  I'm not.  There's so much to love about my life and how it is now. So I'm not about to settle for something less than amazing.  There are a lot of theories out there that say I shouldn't wait for Mr Perfect but instead find Mr Acceptable and settle down into something nice and comfortable.  I disagree.That's how I ended up divorced in the first place. Now  I'm not looking for some movie version of perfect romance.  It's just that I have a really great life and I don't see any reason to bring someone that doesn't fit, into that life, just to make others feel more comfortable.   Being single does not equate to being a failure.


You see, I have a job that I truly adore.  I work with people that I admire, respect and enjoy working with.  I actually hate being sick, because I enjoy going to work!  I have an amazing family that I see once a week for family dinner which is filled with stimulating discussions, silly arguments and great food.  I have two great kids that keep me young, teach me, push me, pull me, challenge me and keep me laughing.  I have inspiring friends who support and uplift me.  I have a hobby which takes me out of the house twice a week and keeps me fit. I volunteer in the arts which emotionally and spiritually fills me up.  I have so much love and laughter in my life, at work, at home and at play that when I do find love, (yes I believe it's a when not an if) it will find the right slot and be one more facet of an already uplifting, interesting, fun, giving and amazing life. Wouldn't Oprah be proud?


I’ve been told to go on line and join a dating website. No.  I've been there, done that.  Never again.  I'm sure there are some genuinely nice people on it seeking love, but I didn't have any luck.  More than that, I discovered that I am much more old fashioned and organic than that.  I don't think it's how I'll find someone to love. But to those who do, I wish you the best.  It's just not for me and I'm a firm believer in each to his own. So bless and thumbs up to those for whom it has worked.  Besides I've tried describing my "perfect" partner in one paragraph and at the end it reads like my perfect man is really a gay man, who can talk footy and f*ck women.  I think he's a cross between Kurt and Puck from Glee, with a dash of David from Moonlighting. They're a dime a dozen, aren't they?


My eldest kid is currently learning about stereotypes at school and is busy writing expositions about how stereotypes can damage the society we live in.  I've had to bite my tongue and let him find his own examples.  Although, at times I feel I have neon lights above my head saying 'SINGLE WOMAN IN HER 40S! WATCH OUT! DESPERATION IN PROGRESS!'   It seems that society needs to see me that way in order to feel more comfortable.  After all, each of us has role to play. Apparently.


But if you don't mind I might put off the cat food and sad movies for a few years yet.  I know that my boobs are getting saggier, my arse is definitely closer to the ground than it was 15 years ago, my hangovers seem twice as bad as they used to and I find myself listening to more talkback radio, (the day I talk back it's over) but I don't think I'm ready for the scrap heap just yet.  Being single is just a tiny aspect of my life.  


I'm sure one day a fella's gonna wander into my life, (somehow, someway, lets not stress about the details) we'll bond over our strange love of Sci-Fi and Scrabble and our intense dislike of Naked Gun movies and gardening, find out we can live with each other’s imperfections, love and laugh in the bedroom and decide to give the romance thing a whirl.   But if he doesn't, I still won't resort to becoming crazy cat lady or Miss Havisham. 


I'm pretty sure for the rest of my life I'm going to be an interesting person who leads an interesting life.  Why?  It's because I love learning.  I love challenging myself.  The good thing about me?  I don’t sit around whining about how bored I am.  I get off the couch and find something to do and I can't see that changing anytime soon.


Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to watch Twilight and eat clinkers on the couch, in my jammies, under my snuggie, with my exfoliating apricot face mask, that is if I can kick the cat....er dog off the couch.