The Skinny Girls Club ---Tips And Tricks
Without Prejudice
Years ago when I thought I wanted to get thin again, wished it, dreamed it, I made a promise to myself. I would admire the thinner me, admire my thighs as I sat in a car at the stop lights, stroke bony shoulders, feel bones instead of layers of fat. I would allow vanity to overtake worthiness and kindness. Those traits I already had, they were as much a part of me as the nose on my face.
I knew I had been a very skinny scrawny kid. I can remember holding my arms out in a Rocky pose in the shadow reflected on the road as my brothers and I returned from a trip to the dairy in Canowindra. I was eight. The shadow I cast was of a skinny child, Biafran. In those days I swam and swam until I was exhausted. Never being able to get enough of the pool and it's green blue depths.
I ran with my brothers, everywhere, just kids who hated being indoors. And we were always hungry, always poor and always together.
I realised as I grew older and more unhealthy that I had never laid down fat cells, as a child, so that skinny little girl was inside me still. Just longing to step out of her fat shell. Layers of fat that covered up hurt, anxiety, depression. Eating seemed easier than having to confront myself. And fat was a protective shell from men's attention. I knew that. Not many girls have not been sexually affronted in some way and I knew I had.
So long story short I went to Camp Eden almost two years ago. No phone reception, no email access, just me and 16 others in tranquil surroundings, 5 star healthy food, exercise if you wanted it, meditation, yoga, gym, pool. And the best of life coaches money can buy. I was mesmerised by it all. Beautiful lodgings, valleys of green rain forest. Sheer heaven.
I had given up smoking 6 months prior and thought I was healthy. Not so. I was fair, fat and fifty and couldn't even get up the "easy walk" on the first day. I watched with wonder as an old lady with a bung knee walked the " hard walk" pushing heavily on a walking stick. I was ashamed. But by the 3rd day could walk the "hard walk" without wanting to perk my lunch up.
The life coach told us to write 3 goals for the next 12 months. I wrote and never believed for one second I could achieve any of them. I wrote them and carelessly tossed them in my suitcase for my return home. Just before I returned to Melbourne my brother who had paid for my stay asked me to write something for his business newsletter. I dashed it off and he said,
" You are so good at this, go home and write "
I hadn't written in 23 years. Not since the death of my youngest daughter. I knew I loved writing, I knew I should go back to it. Had I not seen her in a vision ? And apart from telling me she was happy and that I was going to be fine, better than fine, her last word to me was "Write". And I had replied to her ghostly glowing presence,
"Write? What, like letters ?"
"No", she replied,
"Not letters, just write "
Now my brother was telling me the same thing.
I went home from Camp Eden and ate healthily, walked every day and not an ounce of fat budged. I still wasn't writing, but about a month prior to Camp Eden had set up a blog on Google. I had no idea why and hadn't written a word. I was disgusted with myself at my procrastination but couldn't seem to be able to cross the barriers holding me back.
Then several things happened at once. Camp Eden contacted me to see where I was with my goals, my brother did the same and in despair and guilt I crossed to the window in the kitchen and threw up my hands to my God and the universe and said,
" I give up, OK, I just give up"
Then I logged in to my blog and started to write. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. The first story was a funny true one of my ex being deported from France on what was the first day of our second honeymoon. And from that point I just kept writing, funny stories, stories of my life, sad stories. Everything I could remember from my childhood. The tragic death of my 11 year old brother Jamie, Port Augusta.
As I wrote I would have a bowl of fresh fruit cut up beside me. And before I knew it it was 2pm and I had been sitting there for five hours, straight and yet it seemed like five minutes had passed. I would turn off the computer and eat a little, dry biscuits and cheese or tomato and cucumber. I would then do my housework, washing and at exactly 4.30 sit down, watch The Bold and the Beautiful and eat some home made fudge or a fun size Mars Bar.
I would then prepare a normal healthy dinner with lots of veggies. That was it. Simple really. I made my own chips from Pita bread shredded up and a tiny bit of parmesan cheese. I made the home made fudge every day for about a month, thin and dry and savour every mouthful as it snapped and dissolved in my mouth.
And Christmas was fast approaching and I thought of all that yummy festive food about to arrive and my mouth would water but I still stuck to my healthy eating plan. If I had the treat of chocolate or fudge to look forward to I could hang out. I bought fruit in season that I loved, peaches, melon, nectarines, plums and one day I stood up from the computer and thought,
"I think I am thinner"
I asked my daughter who I live at the back of. She said I looked thinner and she is tiny and fat phobic, always has been. I asked my oldest Grandson and he said two words,
"Well done"
He is tall and skinny so I knew he meant it.
I still couldnt believe it but I seemed to have dropped three dress sizes. I went out shopping and bought a pair of jeans in my old size and snuck into the dressing room. They fell off me. I went out to the store floor again and grabbed a Size 12, before I could barely fit in a Size 16, stretch. The 12 fitted as smooth as a glove.
I thought at first that the size was wrong but I went over to see my oldest daughter and she screamed when she saw me.
"How did you do it?", she asked
I didnt really know it had all happened so quickly I was stunned. One day a big fatty booma and the next a skinny minnie, it took a long time for my brain and eyes to register it. And at this point I will say that I think you go through a bit of an identity crisis when you lose a lot of weight. Even now I will go to try something on and my brain says that will never fit and of course it does.
To be continued........
Years ago when I thought I wanted to get thin again, wished it, dreamed it, I made a promise to myself. I would admire the thinner me, admire my thighs as I sat in a car at the stop lights, stroke bony shoulders, feel bones instead of layers of fat. I would allow vanity to overtake worthiness and kindness. Those traits I already had, they were as much a part of me as the nose on my face.
I knew I had been a very skinny scrawny kid. I can remember holding my arms out in a Rocky pose in the shadow reflected on the road as my brothers and I returned from a trip to the dairy in Canowindra. I was eight. The shadow I cast was of a skinny child, Biafran. In those days I swam and swam until I was exhausted. Never being able to get enough of the pool and it's green blue depths.
I ran with my brothers, everywhere, just kids who hated being indoors. And we were always hungry, always poor and always together.
I realised as I grew older and more unhealthy that I had never laid down fat cells, as a child, so that skinny little girl was inside me still. Just longing to step out of her fat shell. Layers of fat that covered up hurt, anxiety, depression. Eating seemed easier than having to confront myself. And fat was a protective shell from men's attention. I knew that. Not many girls have not been sexually affronted in some way and I knew I had.
So long story short I went to Camp Eden almost two years ago. No phone reception, no email access, just me and 16 others in tranquil surroundings, 5 star healthy food, exercise if you wanted it, meditation, yoga, gym, pool. And the best of life coaches money can buy. I was mesmerised by it all. Beautiful lodgings, valleys of green rain forest. Sheer heaven.
I had given up smoking 6 months prior and thought I was healthy. Not so. I was fair, fat and fifty and couldn't even get up the "easy walk" on the first day. I watched with wonder as an old lady with a bung knee walked the " hard walk" pushing heavily on a walking stick. I was ashamed. But by the 3rd day could walk the "hard walk" without wanting to perk my lunch up.
The life coach told us to write 3 goals for the next 12 months. I wrote and never believed for one second I could achieve any of them. I wrote them and carelessly tossed them in my suitcase for my return home. Just before I returned to Melbourne my brother who had paid for my stay asked me to write something for his business newsletter. I dashed it off and he said,
" You are so good at this, go home and write "
I hadn't written in 23 years. Not since the death of my youngest daughter. I knew I loved writing, I knew I should go back to it. Had I not seen her in a vision ? And apart from telling me she was happy and that I was going to be fine, better than fine, her last word to me was "Write". And I had replied to her ghostly glowing presence,
"Write? What, like letters ?"
"No", she replied,
"Not letters, just write "
Now my brother was telling me the same thing.
I went home from Camp Eden and ate healthily, walked every day and not an ounce of fat budged. I still wasn't writing, but about a month prior to Camp Eden had set up a blog on Google. I had no idea why and hadn't written a word. I was disgusted with myself at my procrastination but couldn't seem to be able to cross the barriers holding me back.
Then several things happened at once. Camp Eden contacted me to see where I was with my goals, my brother did the same and in despair and guilt I crossed to the window in the kitchen and threw up my hands to my God and the universe and said,
" I give up, OK, I just give up"
Then I logged in to my blog and started to write. And I wrote and wrote and wrote. The first story was a funny true one of my ex being deported from France on what was the first day of our second honeymoon. And from that point I just kept writing, funny stories, stories of my life, sad stories. Everything I could remember from my childhood. The tragic death of my 11 year old brother Jamie, Port Augusta.
As I wrote I would have a bowl of fresh fruit cut up beside me. And before I knew it it was 2pm and I had been sitting there for five hours, straight and yet it seemed like five minutes had passed. I would turn off the computer and eat a little, dry biscuits and cheese or tomato and cucumber. I would then do my housework, washing and at exactly 4.30 sit down, watch The Bold and the Beautiful and eat some home made fudge or a fun size Mars Bar.
I would then prepare a normal healthy dinner with lots of veggies. That was it. Simple really. I made my own chips from Pita bread shredded up and a tiny bit of parmesan cheese. I made the home made fudge every day for about a month, thin and dry and savour every mouthful as it snapped and dissolved in my mouth.
And Christmas was fast approaching and I thought of all that yummy festive food about to arrive and my mouth would water but I still stuck to my healthy eating plan. If I had the treat of chocolate or fudge to look forward to I could hang out. I bought fruit in season that I loved, peaches, melon, nectarines, plums and one day I stood up from the computer and thought,
"I think I am thinner"
I asked my daughter who I live at the back of. She said I looked thinner and she is tiny and fat phobic, always has been. I asked my oldest Grandson and he said two words,
"Well done"
He is tall and skinny so I knew he meant it.
I still couldnt believe it but I seemed to have dropped three dress sizes. I went out shopping and bought a pair of jeans in my old size and snuck into the dressing room. They fell off me. I went out to the store floor again and grabbed a Size 12, before I could barely fit in a Size 16, stretch. The 12 fitted as smooth as a glove.
I thought at first that the size was wrong but I went over to see my oldest daughter and she screamed when she saw me.
"How did you do it?", she asked
I didnt really know it had all happened so quickly I was stunned. One day a big fatty booma and the next a skinny minnie, it took a long time for my brain and eyes to register it. And at this point I will say that I think you go through a bit of an identity crisis when you lose a lot of weight. Even now I will go to try something on and my brain says that will never fit and of course it does.
To be continued........
