No Chocolate 'Til Christmas or Bust!

The bust is actually where my fat seems to leave first (now is that fair?) But to be fat for cleavage sakes I know is not healthy. So Natasha (my Canadian friend who has just spent a few days with us here in Wales) and I made a pact that we would stay away from all refined sugar until Christmas Day. I'll be healthier, and besides, it will make Christmas that much sweeter.

I have tried to regulate my sugar intake so many times. I know how bad it is for my body in so many ways. I once gave up sugar for a whole year, but then when I have treated myself on my birthday or Christmas I slowly go back to being addicted and eating too much sugar again.

Why does it have to be one or the other?

I feel it has to do with my terrible self control, but I have a suspicion I now have more self control in my life - I did not drag the man who threw his sweet wrapper out of his window yesterday in a car park from his car and beat him over the head screaming "it is because of selfish imbeciles like you that this world is such a screwed up place!" I only thought it. I even communicated it to my husband. But I did not do it. So, you see. I have self control :)

I also know exercise is essential. Natasha already regularly goes to the gym, whereas that is something I need to implement into my life when I get to Spain. John tells me that we have a great women-only gym 5 minutes walk from our house in Seville. Although I do feel guilty about the expense (which motivates me to go more) I know it will be money well spent.

So on to a healthier, fitter lifestyle. Can you hear the genuine excitement in my printed tone? Can you feel the electrical pulse of momentum dragging me off my perhaps-I-shall-have-one-more-chocolate backside into the world of 'no thank you, that banoffee pie does look very nice but I think I will refrain'. Of course you can. That is why I have written this post. It is here to remind me of my resolve and overwhelming desire to turn my back on chocolate hell and move into healthy heaven, bustless or not.

Am I a friend?

Moving to Seville has brought about some interesting conversations between John and I. Today we talked about friends. People we leave behind and new friends to be made. I am not one for having close friends. My family are my world and we are a close unit that depend on each other. I have always been quite self sufficient, not needing others (outwardly) but keeping my head down and getting on with life. John was commenting today on how I should be more open to others around me, more aware of others needs. Wow this makes me sound cold and unfeeling. Of course I have friends. Friends I love and depend on. But they are few and far between. I have often found women to be competitive, threatened and sometimes outright cruel. There is often a playground mentality where they want you to be their only friend and jealous for no reason. High maintenance 'friends' who leave you drained after a visit seem like too much for me right now when I have 11 children to raise and a husband to support. But then I don't want to be that kind of friend to others who is always needy and has nothing to give. So perhaps this can be a fresh start for me. John wisely said that friendship is not about finding the perfect friend but about ignoring the imperfections of the friends we have, enjoying the good they have to offer and the good that we can return. So when I say new start, it's not because here is a chance for me to make new friends, but a new start on appreciating the friends I have made over the years and being a better friend to them.

The Day I Died

Hand-me-down kids

Because of our move to Seville next month I am having a good clear-out. Of the house. My kids have too many clothes. This is because I have so many great friends who pass on their kid's clothes to me.

The scene is set: I get home from wherever and find a sack of clothes on my doorstep. This means one of two things. Either John has kicked me out or someone has delivered never-worn, over-worn, out-grown, or plain disliked clothes. I don't always know who they are from, sometimes there is a note. I take the sack into the lounge, empty out the clothes on my worn, over-loved rug, and it is like Christmas. The kids gather round and we see what fits who. Kids have a tendency to like the cute but impractical. Thus I always ask the question, "Now, would you wear it? I mean really wear it?"

So what is this stigma that seems to be connected to hand-me-down clothes? I have some friends I would never offer clothes to. They would probably look at me as if to say "how very dare you!?" There seems to be some weird pride thing that is attached. If I offer you clothes I am also treating you like you are poor, needy and pathetic? Not sure. I don't see myself as poor, needy or pathetic. Ok perhaps the poor one, well yes I can be quite needy. . . but pathetic. . . NO. Some of my favourite clothes have been given to me by my friends Hazel and Sophia.

So are you a hand-me-down type or not? I remember years ago when I lived in Bournemouth I was very particular about what my kids wore and worried about what people thought of me. I felt (and still do to some point) that people judge me on how my kids look. So when I go food shopping with my little girl wearing (this is true) her swimming costume, with a pink tutu over it and blue wellington boots and goggles, what does that say about me?

I care more about my little girl wanting to express herself through her clothing than I am worried about being perceived as a irresponsible parent. Hey, with this summer weather the swimsuit, goggles, and wellie combo seem like sensible day attire.

So, a big shout out to Helena, Sophia, Gill Taylor, Catherine (above photo taken yesterday of Caitlin in her beautiful dress passed on by Catherine), Hazel, Shelly, Sally, Nic, Dawnie, Joan, Julie and all those big-hearted women who have passed on clothes to my kids, saving us money and making my kids look beautiful!

Packing for Spain!!

Ok so I am not packing like I should, but look what I can do!