Wobbling the right muscles and jangling outdated British culture

I have been walking like a cross between John Thaw and John Wayne today after having strained muscles right the way down my right hand-side trying to get my new bike on its centre-stand. I struggled to even pass various bits and pieces from the front car seat to baby boy sat behind me because of all the twinges (the usual back seat demands…..Mummy I’m thirsty, Mummy I’m hungry….I can’t find my toy car aaahhh!). Of all muscles, my right hand side is not the place that needs ‘work’. What will it take to pull muscles in my thighs and buttocks? That’s the bit that really needs some tightening, as emphasised when I ran to the bank (to pay in a cheque) while my husband sat on double yellows …. Running is a great way of focusing attention on the wobbly bits because they can’t help but wobble. I am not a runner, so wonder if I started, would my wobbly bits eventually Wobble off? It’s worth a try…

Daughter is at a sleepover today at a friend’s gorgeous house…..however they are camping in the garden. Her Husband makes his money selling billion dollar floating gin palaces, so they have lots of nice stuff. They are Canadian, so they are friendly and talk to us and are happy for our daughter to socialise with theirs. (apologies to any wealthy British families I am about to offend by this statement, but…..) I have yet to meet a wealthy British family who are happy to socialise with a family whose joint income is less than a child’s private school bill. But Canadians (and many other nationalities for that matter) are completely unaware of our ridiculous class system and, as a result, do not uphold the unofficial screening process before commencing friendship (house, car, schooling, accent). 

Us Brits could learn a lot from other countries, Nigel Farage take note.

This blog is for UNICEF.

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Egg on the hips

I am guilty about a family tradition passed down from Mother to Mother at this time of year – the task of absorbing some Easter egg calories so your children don’t have to. 

Easter is a bad time for women who have a weakness for chocolate (and are trying to remain/return to sugar free). If you have children it’s even worse. Eggs, chocolate bunnies, sweets, cakes (helped by a birthday party thrown in for good measure) are all sitting in the kitchen saying ‘eat me’. Cadburys chocolate are the worst, I can consume a small Chocolate egg in seconds. Today I ‘helped out’ baby boy with his chocolate buttons egg – I had the egg and he had the bag of buttons – I was taking the brunt of the calorific hit to retain my son’s health ( well that’s what I kept telling myself). I then felt so guilty I wanted to run a mile in shrink wrap before it had a chance to adhere to my hips…

My Mum did the same thing. In fact when I was older I had to hide the eggs so my Num couldn’t get to them. In an effort to save us both she put them in the bin one year. Then later that night retrieved them out of the bin…..it was a new all time low but resistance was futile.

If you go back another generation, my granny was nearly 20 stone …..gulp….you can understand why we are trying to resist – a good metabolism is not in the genes….

This blog is for UNICEF.

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Shun shun sugar

OK, sugar free 2015 isnt going well.

I had been doing well since July 2014, then along came Christmas…had a minor fall.

Then along came my birthday….so a continuation of Christmas.

Then along came a load of life’s s*** which made me turn to sugar.

Then along came Aunt Irma (AKA my period)…..so more sugar.

Then just when I thought I was getting better and not being too naughty by eating a hot cross bun, I decided the hot cross buns were some of the tastiest I had ever had (thought to myself maybe the ones I had bought before were a bit too bland) so I decided to have another one. As I was licking my lips I glanced down at the plate and noticed a couple of chocolate smudges…CHOCOLATE! I then checked the packet and yes, for some bizarre reason, I managed to consume rare hot cross buns containing belgian chocolate and fudge….and I spread butter on them thinking they were plain old currant…AAAH I now can feel the bun progressing to my larger buns as I type. The hips will be bulging like a muffin top over my jeans before the month is out if I carry on like this.

Well, as Scarlett O Hara said, tomorrow is another day – I will wake up shunning sugar for life…

I will keep you updated on how that goes..

This blog is for Unicef.

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Love handles and seagulls

My obsession of washing machines was thankfully short-lived. We now have an ex-rental Bosch that is actually washingpur clothes hurrah! Having the ability to wash is vital and when you are denied that ability it is more than just frustrating, you feel like a student all over again..

My new obsession is tackling my love handles. It seems I cant escape them. Next year is my 35th and a friend once said to me that once you hit 35 anything stuck to your body by that point remains there til you die. So I have 6 months to shift unwanted lumps and bumps before everything is set in stone (or flesh). I have resigned myself to the ‘junk in my trunk’ bum, which I have learnt over the years to ‘package’. Love handles on the other hand just cant resist to give me a little ”muffin top’ regardless of what I am wearing. If I could choose a cake to resemble it would NOT be a muffin. I am thinking more along the lines of a chocolate eclair (brown and slim). There is a cake in my local cupcake shop that you can buy called a ‘Dolly Parton’, which consists of a meringue top, with a cherry. My favourite is the ‘Clark Gable’ which has a coffee fondant (to be alittle more up-to-date it should be re-named the ‘George Clooney’.

Next, why the seagulls? We have a small boat moored in a harbour on the South coast. It has now appeared on the Seagull version of google maps as ‘a good place to hang out and poop’. Last time we we t to the boat, the gulls had really gone to town. I refused to embark until all the poo had gone, so I bobbed up and down on the tender while hubby scrubbed and I occasionally threw him the odd baby wipe. So I have been reading reviews on the best things to repel gulls and have opted for this rotating mechanism that spins with the wind.

But while I was bobbing up and down on the sea waiting, a huge splash sound came from the starboard side and as I turned I caught sight of the end of a tail of something very big. We were in the shallow waters of the harbour so I struggled to think what it could have been. Then a movement caught my eye and I turned to see a seal about 30 metres from us, its beautiful head and huge eyes looking at us – I shouted for my hubby to catch sight of it, then it disappeared and popped its head up further along the channel. It was a lovely moment to be on the sea and catching a glimpse of such a beautiful creature sharing eachother’s environment. It made all the seagull shit worthwhile.

This blog is for Unicef.

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The rutting season

I could barely walk this morning. Yesterday i powerhooped, jogged, rode and jumped my way through the day and paid for it today – i was all out of high-kicks.

I swam during my lunch-break, which felt good although i do find it frustrating. Swimming is one of the few sports where the more effort you put in, the less progress you make, hence the frustration. It is not about effort, but technique. I have a friend who seems to effortlessly glide and tumble turn through her lengths, while i am gasping for breath at each end. If i attempt a tumble-turn, i always end up in a different direction of travel. So i do what i do in most situations, i try harder, which only serves to slow me down more aarrgh!

My husband’s career is a bit like swimming. He has tried to work harder to get better qualifications but so far he isnt even getting job interviews, let alone jobs. He is trying to switch jobs, albeit in the same industry but having worked as a tree surgeon for 20 years, employers cant see him as anything but a tree surgeon.

For me, in my existing career, i have all the qualifications and experience i need o progress, but having a family and taking a couple of years off for children has stalled my earning potential. I have had at least 2 potential employers turn me down simply because my current salary doesnt look good, despite my skills and experience. They find it difficult to take me seriously, hence the dead-endedness of my job.

As for ambitions to be a social worker…still waiting for that 1 year magic conversion course o materialise. Until then i will carry on ploughing this furrow (albeit not a bad one as furrows go).

With the boot on the other foot, we had a few job application forms to sift through for my colleague’s maternity cover. For some reason i honed in on the birth-date and my boss questioned short-listing someone in their early 60s arguing that they would not have enough knowledge of social media. On paper this particular person seemed o be the most experienced of the lot of them, so i am interviewing her. This remark comes from the same boss who asked me in my interview if i was going to have more children…..

This blog is for Unicef. Thanks for reading.

 

A bottomless pit

I have put on 5 pounds on the IQS diet. Dont blame the diet though. Before I reach for a spoon of sugar in my coffee again, it has dawned on me that i may have been eating more than the rda on peanut butter, which has an effect, even the reduced sugar and salt version. So over the next month peanut butter has been put on the naughty list and i will continue my mission to be sugar free in a bid to be healthier.

A magazine article on body shape featured a comment from a woman that struck a chord with me.  She said her focus wasn’t on her lumps and bumps but on healthy eating. So, i figured if i focus on health, the lumps and bumps will follow (or rather drop off). In the meantime i continue to be repellent to sugar, in the same way that a ex-smoker dismisses offers of a cigarette, today i declined chocolate muffins and mr whippy ice-cream.

However, it is hard to focus on health when all you really want to do is decrease the land mass of your rear-end. My baby boy has discovered it as a new form of entertainment to spank it so it wobbles, a habit inspired by the actions of both my daughter and husband. I am now wondering whether it is impossible to get rid of extra bum – if your born with it you have just got to sit on it – like Kim Kardashian.

Or is it years of bouncing up and down on horses’ backs. Maybe my body’s reaction was to create a buffer, hence the big butt.

Of course there are many more things to be worrying about than the size of bottoms. Us women have to shoulder the burden of achieving the ‘ideal’ figure but ‘ideal’ for whom?

Now my husband has started to comment that my daughter’s bottom is ‘filling out’ and i instantly retaliate with an exclamation of what a beautiful butt it is.

I wonder if there will ever be a time when women are more relaxed about their body shape? Or is it a culture that will continue in perpetuity?

Maybe the way to address it is through a process of elimination, a bit like weeding out an allergy. For example what would happen if high-fashion was excluded from the public conscience for a year, or it was insisted that only plus size models (aka normal size) were used for all advertising campaigns?

This blog is for Unicef. Thanks for reading.

Duracell no added sugar

I am almost a month in to my ‘i quit sugar’ diet and i have found one benefit that i wasnt expecting. It is not to do with weight loss (although thankfully i havent put on any weight), it is actually energy levels.

Today I was like one of those Duracell bunnies. I kept waiting for a wall of tiredness to hit me so i just kept going and going. In fact now (21.23 pm) is the first time i have actually sat down. Every time i thought i had a chance to momentarily put my feet up, i kept saying, ‘i will just do the washing/ washing-up/ prepare dinner/ water plants/feed horses / dogs/ clean bathroom while washing kids in bath……and this is after power-hooping in the morning and walking round the countryside with the kids and dogs all day…..and while feeling below par with a grotty cold. Its not bad this cutting out sugar lark.

It makes you wonder what it is about sugar that zaps your energy long-term? A friend of mine said she couldnt quit sugar because she would feel too lethargic. When in fact cutting it out would be the best thing for her. I find my energy levels are consistent, i dont have the peaks and troughs in energy levels like i used to. So, where in the past i would turn towards something sugary mid afternoon and later in the evening, i dont feel the need for it.

Coconut is also my new best friend and the children both enjoy drinking coconut water, it is amazingly refreshing and more hydrating than water. I am looking forward to having a go at a sugar free bounty bar recipe as they were one of my favourite sweets.

A few times my husband has complained that there is not enough ‘unhealthy’ stuff in the cupboards and the children seem to have re-discovered fruit.

Not that we exclude treats, we went to the chocolate cafe yesterday and all three of them had chocolate (apart from me with my glowing halo). My husband couldnt finish off his brownie and i declined it so my daughter wrapped it up in a napkin and put it in my bag for later.

Later on that evening, i found an empty slightly chewed up napkin next to my rather sheepish looking dog, she is becoming a dab hand (or should i say paw) at rifling through my bag. Last time she did that she finished off a bag of maltesers.

I wonder if they do a ‘quit sugar for dogs’?

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