by Fiona likes to blog | Jul 28, 2016 | LIFE
My husband and I relocated to Birmingham last weekend from Glasgow. I wasn’t planning on blogging about it because I wasn’t sure it was that big of a deal. It would probably be the first thing on most writer’s minds when they start to type, but sometimes when you’re so deeply involved in a situation you disassociate yourself from the enormity of it all (a whiff of denial is definitely in the air here). I certainly do anyway.
I’ve been focusing on the little things that occur on a daily basis – making a nice dinner, rearranging the new flat, exploring my local gym – instead of worrying about the fact that we’ve moved 300 miles away from home. No biggie, right?
In fact, distance is only as far as you make it. Since moving I’ve actually reconnected with so many people who have private messaged me to say good luck, or even offered to come visit us. I’ve spoken to most people more than I usually would because I’m so aware of the geographical space between us, and I instinctively want to make the communication lines stronger.
The other thing that has helped me maintain my sanity (for 90% of the time) has been to surround myself with comforting things. I don’t mean physical things like cuddly toys but more like activities that give me comfort, things that help calm my insecurities and make me feel in control of my now non-existent routine.
I ordered an online grocery shop to arrive the day after we moved in, because I have wierd issues with food (for evidence read any food related post on this blog) and like to have healthy, satiating options available to me at all times. This is some deep-rooted fear of starving to death by the way, brought on by restricted eating for the last decade of my life.
Obviously I ordered some treats in there to help with my emotional eating too (I’m looking at you peanut butter) but overall I just wanted to fill our new home with familiar foods that I could use to rustle up a fulfilling plateful, whilst minimising my anxiety around meal times.
I try to make going to the gym a daily habit – for my mood as well as my waistline – so I wanted to ensure I could do that as soon as we moved in. Luckily there is a budget gym just around the corner from that flat and I was already a member so I just changed my location online and I could use it straight away.
I’ve never been able to find a gym with a regular yoga class, so when I saw my local offering four classes a week I jumped – don’t worry I stretched beforehand – at the chance. I was up for the 7am class on Wednesday morning and it felt great to be back practising a good habit for both mind and body. Did you know that early morning exercise actually gives you the legal right to spend the entire day telling everyone what you did and being a smug little twat about it?
So my attempts at damage control seemed to be working pretty well and I’d only uttered “I’m FINE!” in the style of Ross from Friends one or two times under my breath and it had gone unnoticed. All was well. That was, until we need furniture.
Yes people, the most terrifying thing about moving away from home has been having to purchase new Ikea flat-pack furniture and trying to build it before my husband got home from work in some sort of attempt to prove I can be useful. I’m currently unemployed, and after a two day stint at constructing and ruining two sets of drawers I’ve tainted any dream I had of becoming a joiner. There were tears, and many curse words were spoken but I guess I’m still here.
I didn’t fail, I just made a bit of an arse of it.
And on that note, let’s raise a glass to making terrifying life-changing decisions! What’s the worst that can happen?
by Fiona likes to blog | Jul 26, 2016 | LIFE
“Becoming a pop star will be difficult Fi” my Mum said.
I was about nine years old at the time, and one year deep into my obsession with the Spice Girls. “I know Mum, but I’m willing to put in the hard work” I said quite confidently, not having ever experienced a day’s work in my puff, never mind a day’s hard work. I wasted away my hours learning the dance routine to “Who do you think you are?” and planning my next outfit based on Geri Halliwell’s fashion history but I’d be damned if people weren’t going to take me seriously as a future pop star.
The months went by and I honed my craft; performing a solo at the school assembly and submitting an application to Stars in Their Eyes were among the highlights. I struck power poses in the mirror and practised harmonizing with my Spice Girls CDs, not forgetting to extend my repertoire to other genres by including tracks by other 90’s favourites such as Eternal, Blur and Chumbawumba.
When I wasn’t singing or practising walking in platforms I often wrote a diary. I can only hope that they are lying in a landfill somewhere with their tiny little padlocks still attached, never to be opened. I also remember being shown how to use a typewriter, and later my Dad’s word processor which he kept in his home office.
Although writing a diary had been enjoyable, it was a hobby at best. Sitting there in front of a computer screen, tapping keys and looking pensively into the distance in between typing seemed more official somehow. It seemed like a job I could do.
I wrote a lot of nonsense. The kind of stories that started with a kid unlocking door and ended with him jetting off in a flying inflatable swimming pool. I would start writing and I wouldn’t stop until I had exhausted my imagination, swept out every nook and cranny of my mind and dumped it onto the page.
Looking back now it was probably a great exercise for anyone with ‘writer’s block’ and it’s kind of how I tackle blogging now, especially when it comes to personal topics. The key factor is knowing what to cut out of the nonsense you’ve just created. However, at nine years old I had not yet learned how to edit my work.
A few years later I was asked what I wanted to do with my life. It was our leaving assembly for primary school, and we were to speak in front of the audience and explain my future plans. We had to draw a life-sized picture of the uniform we would wear, and hold this up whilst we gave our speech, giving the illusion that we were wearing the outfit. I’m pretty sure this is the exact moment in my life when pressure began to weigh down on my conscience, and the voices in my head began to ask “What are you doing with your life?”
Anyway, I couldn’t decide. I loved writing; it was therapeutic,creative and deemed a ‘real’ job in my mind. I’m sure it would go down well with my parents. Being a pop star on the other hand, would be a long hard struggle which would inevitably end in disappointment, drug addiction or maybe both. But surely my years of performing (in my bedroom, but still performing) hadn’t been in vain? All for nothing?
I must have expressed my dilemma to my teacher at the time, because what resulted was definitely not something I would have concocted all by myself. I drew a figure that was an author on one half, and a pop star on the other. I remember thinking this was a great idea, but then realising at the assembly I was the only one who couldn’t decide. I was the only person there with a career choice, a future – split down the middle. My only comfort was that my speech evoked a few laughs – which I took to be a good thing – and sparked a fleeting idea that I could become a comedian – although I don’t think I was really committed to that plan.
You may have already guessed, I did not fulfil my childhood dream of becoming a pop star author hybrid. I spent many years singing publicly and was in a band for a while. I was known at school as “that girl who could sing”, and ended up studying music at university although I realised the industry wasn’t for me. I still get asked why I don’t sing any more; I guess with adulthood I lost my confidence and performing is just not something I enjoy.
Writing however, has been a thread that has weaved its way quietly and consistently through my life. Even if it never becomes my career, I know I can rely on it as I always have, as a way to clear out my mind and share my experiences with the world.
by Fiona likes to blog | Jan 9, 2016 | ANXIETY, FOOD, LIFE
As I sit here with a belly full of porridge and and nice strong coffee in front of me, it’s easy not to think about food. Well when I say easy, it’s not consuming my thoughts like it often does during every waking moment of my life. In fact, forget the ‘every waking moment’ crap because I regularly dream about what I’m going to eat for breakfast (usually some sort of pancake affair lovingly decorated with blueberries) only to wake up late and grab an under-ripe banana on the way out the door.
As I was saying; I’m currently not obsessing over food. I know I’m not alone when I say that this rarely happens and it’s a pretty hard state of mind to achieve on purpose. I’m among the millions of young women who have spent their teenage and adult lives separating foods into categories such as;
good, bad, calorie free, post-workout only, post-goal weight only, weekend only, carb free, fat free, good fat, bad fat (these are the tastiest), emotional crutch and I’m on my period so screw you world
…..and so on. I’ve been conditioned (partly through my own doing) to label foods, or at least see them in a certain way so as to choose the best ones to lose weight. I’ve read a lot of diet books (Atkins, GI diet, carb-cycling, Scottish slimmers, 5:2) and the cumulative effect of this has been an information overload.
The truth is that all of these diets work (short term at least, I don’t recommend any of them) but only on their own. You can’t retain all that knowledge and apply it all at once as it simply won’t work.
Correction: it might work but will leave you nutritionally deficient and acting fucking mental because you’re deprived of anything substantial. Have you ever eaten condiments because you’re craving pure flavour? This is real people, I’ve eaten onion chutney straight out of the jar.
I’ve read that I need to eat low fat, low carb, lean protein, grain-free, gluten-free and sugar-free to get ripped. Let me tell you, that doesn’t leave a lot of tasty food on offer. I’ve lived a life comprised of eggs, chicken, broccoli and NO FRUIT for crying out loud. If that doesn’t make you run screaming for the ice cream isle then nothing will.
That’s the point I’m getting at here. The more you focus on what you can’t eat, the more you want it. It’s simply inevitable that you will fall off the wagon and eat the food you’re not supposed to. The act of eating the forbidden fruit isn’t the problem though – it’s the affect this has on your mental state. You feel guilty, unhealthy and like you’ve failed at life.
But what if there were no good or bad foods? What if we just forgot about food entirely until our bodies signalled to us that they were hungry? What if we learned to listen to what our bodies craved and found out that it wasn’t really garlic bread after all?
I believe I’m on the path to figuring that shit out. I’m trying to embrace all foods for all their beauty. Avocados are no longer relegated to the ‘high calorie’ pile. They are now my go-to food when I need an energy boost of B vitamins, amino acids and anti-oxidants. They are a great fat source that leave me feeling satisfied and satiated.
Carbs are no longer the enemy. If I’m craving that kind of food I choose the best version I can, instead of avoiding it altogether and caving in later with a bag of Doritos and a bar of Dairy Milk. My carbs of choice are basmati rice, brown tortilla wraps, rye bread, sweet potatoes and regular potatoes. I don’t eat pasta because I’m honestly not that fussed for it, but I know some people go mad for it.
I’ve started to notice these little things, how my tastes have changed, and it’s amazing what you pick up on once you really start to tune in to your body (wow I sound like a totally hippy right now).
We had a fry up for breakfast the other day and as soon as I sat down to eat I realised I wasn’t hungry. Alarm bells should be ringing right now, people are rejoicing in the streets and shouting “Hallelujah! She’s finally full”…. But honestly, this rarely happens. I normally scoff it down quicker than the rest of the family and sit staring at my empty plate with my mouth half open waiting to see who will toss me seconds.
But after a few weeks of eating freely, this plate of food suddenly didn’t meet my expectations. It’s not that there was anything wrong with it, quite the opposite in fact as my father-in-law is a great cook! But after a few weeks of listening intently to my body’s needs and fuelling it accordingly I could somehow sense that it didn’t want to eat a fry up today. It wasn’t that I consciously chose not to eat the food, but rather that my hunger signals simply told me that the food was not required.
I find that to be bloody extraordinary. Even though as I write this I realise that I have just described the way the body and mind should naturally function!!!!
As you’ve probably figured out, I love food. The hard thing about dieting is that it makes food important for all the wrong reasons. Eating out is difficult,as is cooking and socialising,even eating your lunch in front of other people can be enough to send you to the bathrooms to hide your green salad. The great thing about forgetting about food is that you give yourself the freedom to eat whaveter you want, whenever you want. This means you can live on beans on toast when you’re skint, eat lobster when you’re rich, eat avocados for breakfast, grab a burger on your way home from work in a rush and have scrambelled egg for supper if you want. To someone who has lived a life planning out each meal hours or even days in advance, this idea of essentially ‘eating what you want’ initially seemed terrifying and a recipe for disaster.
I thought, and many people do, that if I allow myself to eat whatever I want then I really will eat whatever I want. Because I have restricted my food intake for so many years this is unfortunately how it goes down for the first few weeks. I gave myself permission to eat all the things on my naughty list like; cake, biscuits, chocolate, pizza, bread and cheese. Lots of cheese. Embarrassing amounts of cheese. But honestly, after eating like this for a few days at a time all my cravings had been somewhat satisfied and I could hear a tiny little voice inside screaming EAT SOME BROCCOLI!
Over the course of a few weeks this voice began to say other interesting things such as;
Eat more for breakfast
Eat some fat
You don’t need protein for dinner, just eat some veggies
I’m craving sugar but rice with dinner will be good
Eat more
Eat less
You’re hungry
You’re thirsty
Don’t be fooled though, the voice comes in many forms and recently had said things like
Eat that whole chocolate orange
Eat pizza for dinner
Eat pizza for lunch
Pizza
Pizza
So as you can see it’s an ongoing struggle, where above all I am learning to listen to what my body is saying. It sounds airy-fairy, and I guess in a way it is, but everything else I’ve done up until now has given me such a negative and complicated relationship with food that at this point I’m willing to take a stab in the dark and try this intuitive approach to eating.
Learning how to think positively about food is a long and bumpy road. I can’t fix all the problems overnight when it’s taken a lifetime to rack up all the mistakes. I’m taking it each meal at a time, if I have a crap day I try and understand why and move on. If I don’t understand then that’s OK too, but I still try and move on.
There were many days over Christmas and New Year where I ate uncontrollably, just because it ’twas the season’ but that doesn’t mean I’m going to restrict myself for the rest of January. I now refuse to restrict myself, and the truth is that may mean not losing weight quickly or even at all. The priority for me now must be long term. I’m on a journey to build a healthy relationship with food, and that starts with forgetting all about it.
Is this something that you are struggling with too? Please comment with your tips!
by Fiona likes to blog | Dec 8, 2015 | DEPRESSION, LIFE
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?
Well I’m trying my hardest to crank up the volume of my headphones as Sia blasts from my phone into my almost burst eardrums, but unfortunately yes, I am listening to the flipping sleigh bells ring. I walk aimlessly around my local shopping centre blinded by twinkling lights, flashing Santa hats and overwhelmingly large SALE signs in every window. The scent of gingerbread lattes and overpriced perfume clings to my winter coat, reminding me that once again Christmas is imminent.
Spoiler alert; I’m not the biggest fan of this time of year. I promise I’m not about to ruin it for you by writing a lengthy blog about how it’s a waste of time and money as I shit all over your reindeer parade. I am happy that it makes other people feel warm and fuzzy enough to hang oversized socks above an open fire (I literally just realised how dangerous this is, please warn others) and I don’t want to take that away from anyone. But must I be forced to participate?
I’m well aware that there are a lot of Bah Humbug types out there squashing the dreams of small children. I’m not one of those people. I’m willing to chat about buying presents, eat a box of mince pies to myself, discuss what everyone’s plans are and what not. Most people aren’t even aware that I hate Christmas. When people ask when I’m putting my tree up I have to skirt around the issue, explaining that we binned our old one when we moved, haven’t got round to finding a new one and don’t particularly want the mess of a real one, when really all I want to say is I DON’T WANT TO PUT UP A CHRISTMAS TREE. I also don’t plan on handing out cards or singing carols round the piano. I’m not sure I can really explain why, other than the fact that joyfulness which has to be scheduled on a calendar just disnae seem right to me.
There have been of course, acceptions to the rule. Times when Christmas was “not that bad” include:
- The year I got a keyboard. Aged 10. Plans to become a pop star seemed to be coming to fruition.
- The year we went out to a restaurant for Christmas lunch. Didn’t have to watch poor mum stress out about burning the roast potatoes and running out of microwave space. Also, no washing up duties for anyone.
- The year I stayed home alone, didn’t shower, ordered pizza, spoke to no one and watched the entire back catalogue of 30 Rock whilst quoting appropriate lines such as “There ain’t no party like a Liz Lemon party because a Liz Lemon party is mandatory”. Joke, that Christmas hasn’t happened, yet.
As you can see, its not that I don’t celebrate (in the loosest sense of the word – no alcohol and in bed with hot tea by midnight thankyou very much) Christmas at all . I still buy presents for my close family, eat turkey on the 25th and acknowledge that the whole thing is happening around me, but do I really have a choice? I don’t imagine my parents would be too pleased if I rang up on Christmas Eve and ducked out of plans because I forgot I had to defrost my freezer that weekend. Sorry Mum I can’t make the dinner I really need to get my eyebrows waxed and the girl I usually get is about to go on holiday so its now or never, or at least learn to style my hair to cover the top half of my face for a fortnight. There is literally no excuse that can get you out of Christmas festivities so what’s a girl to do?
Grin and bear it I guess.
by Fiona likes to blog | Nov 25, 2015 | BODY POSITIVITY, FITNESS, FOOD, LIFE
I’ve used this blog as a way to document my health & fitness journey. I’ve focused a lot on losing weight because this has always been my primary concern, and I just assumed that everyone else was worried about that too. I know there are some people who just don’t gain or lose weight, they just happily maintain a healthy shape, but they must be the minority right? Surely at least 80% of the population is in the same boat as me and makes every mealtime decision on the basis of their future dream body?
It seems that maybe I’ve been wrong this whole time. First of all, there are a lot of people who’s bodies I seriously envy, but they themselves feel fat and ugly. There are also a lot of women who are considered overweight and don’t give a fuck. They feel confident and look damn fine. I mean, they look proper good (and by ‘good’ I don’t mean they are actually a size 12 in real life but by comparison to runway models they appear to be ‘plus size’ or ‘curvy’). There are women out there of every shape and size who are killing it right now by being sexy, stylish and above all themselves.
If you haven’t seen any of these women you aren’t looking hard enough
Grace Victory is a British blogger and You Tuber who is brutally honest about her struggles with eating, depression and body image. She has her own style and offers a healthy perspective on mental health, relationships and working in the media.
Emma is a breath of fresh air in the blogging world. If you’re sick of looking at twentysomethings in Topshop bralets and American Apparel disco pants then walk this way. She will swither about spending £30 on a Tesco coat and swoon when she sees Hugh Jackman on the red carpet. Finally, real humans on the internet! She has won an awards for her You Tube channel thanks to her efforts in plus-size fashion, although I feel her appeal isn’t specific to plus-size ladies. She’s just your everyday woman who’s comfortable in her own skin and I find that fantastic.
Katie H Willcox started out as a plus-size model who was encouraged to gain weight to stay suitably appealing to clients, but found no happiness in an industry that forced her to be either stick thin or overweight. She now runs a successful agency called Natural Models and Healthy is the new skinny which aims to spread the message to young women that their value is not defined by how they look or how sexy they appear. Whenever I feel shit I look at the organisation’s Instagram account and I literally feed off of it’s imagery. Go look. Now.
This general message has been chipping away at my brain for the past year or so; No one else cares what you weigh, and obessing over it is a waste of your time. It’s a waste of your life.
When people say that it’s not money that makes you rich, they know their shit. I recently got married and realised how many kind and generous people I have in my life. I’m not just talking about people giving gifts (although we did receive some wonderful things) but instead other ways in which people show love.
One of our friends played piano during the ceremony, even though afterwards he told me how nervous it made him. My uncle’s baby was born literally days before the wedding but he flew up to be with us for just a few hours. Many of my husband’s family and friends travelled for a day and told lies to get out of work just to attend the wedding. A few of our guests brought professional cameras and took photographs all night so that we could have lots of images once our main photographer had gone home. Some of these things cost money, but a lot of them just took time and effort – and I am dumfounded that so many people care enough to do that for us.
I looked around the room at our wedding and thought how lucky we were to have so many wonderful people in our lives. It made me realise that I value a person based on their personality traits (obviously) not their job, salary, dress sense or how many notches they need on their belt. In that moment I certainly wasn’t looking around judging how people looked physically in their outfits of choice. So why on earth do I define myself by a different standard?
Another thing you don’t go looking for at a wedding is abs. Is it just me or is everyone obsessed with having abs these days? OK actually it might just be me. I did have a fascination with ladies with abs for quite some time. I told myself that I too could have those square, washboard muscles if I simply ate well and dedicated my life to the gym.
After researching further I realised that those Instagram pictures are of ladies who have less that 10% body fat and have purposely dehydrated themselves for the photoshoot and they will most likely lose those abs a few days later, and crave Ben & Jerry’s like mad after sticking to a low calorie diet.
Those abs are beautiful but they are not the only kind of beautiful.
I also realised that I can eat Ben & Jerry’s whenever I want because I live in Scotland and don’t ever have to bare my stomach unless on holiday. I recently went on holiday and did bare by stomach to a resort full of other British ladies who all had lovely soft midsections just like me. Maybe I can have my cake and eat it.
I’m not content with my body. I don’t look in the mirror and admire my flat stomach,perky breasts and toned legs, but I don’t think there is anyone in this world who does. I keep reminding myself what I admire in other people; beautiful skin, an infectious laugh, the confidence to not wear make up, loyalty and the ability to remember other people’s birthdays are a few things that come to mind. So here is a photo of me in a bikini to prove that although I’m not thin, that’s OK.
by Fiona likes to blog | Jul 7, 2014 | LIFE
You should know by now that I’m not in the business of setting trends. When I’m not wearing my ancient Adidas track suit bottoms I’m rarely in anything other than New Look leggings and a Primark t-shirt. Truth be told I’ve been wearing Birkenstocks for a few years now and I was kind of offended when people started wearing them this summer because they’re considered ‘cool’ now.
You mean they weren’t cool all this time? They are super comfortable and good for your feet! How is that not the ultimate checklist for best shoes in town?!
I’m not bothered though. I’ve come to terms with not being cool. I love reading blogs by all the trendsetters of course; their mason jars overflowing with fruit smoothies, with fresh raspberries and mint leaves scattered seemingly at random in the background, whilst each selfie showcases a stunning new outfit c/o some high-end designer featuring yet unreleased skin care ranges which they’ve had the pleasure of road testing.
I love reading those blogs, to see new things tried out by someone with bags more style than me. It gives me inspiration to be more adventurous in the kitchen, try new trends and create new posts for my own blog. But I’m under no illusion that I am one of those people.
When it comes to fashion I’ve had my fair share of disasters. I championed the ‘skouser’ in its heyday back in the 90’s with much commitment and was kind of obsessed with looking like a Spice Girl. Yeah, I wore platforms. I wore a homemade Boyzone denim jacket (not as complicated as it sounds – basically a denim jacket with the word BOYZONE emblazoned across the back) and chose a floor length maxi skirt to wear to my first year at high school along with a Shaun the Sheep backpack and T-bar high heels for good measure. Considering I was already the tallest and plumpest girl at my primary school five-inch heels were not helping me blend in with the cool crowd.
By aged 18 I was firmly in my rockstar phase, sporting a band t-shirt, lip piercing and sticky-out tongue in most photos taken between 2004-2007. Was I trying to be cool? Probably, and it wasn’t really working. I was secretly listening to Coldplay, Ashlee Simpson and Kelly Clarkson whilst wishing I could find the confidence to wear a dress and heels out at the weekend.
Years passed and I met people who were really into being ‘effortless’, ‘on trend’, and ahead of the game. No one mentioned the fact that they were trying to do these things; it was just glaringly obvious. All of a sudden I saw that it was actually OK to not be like that. A lot of the time people basically wear the uncoolest thing possible in an effort to seem like they truly don’t care. I mean, people have been wearing bumbags and crimping their hair this summer. Come on guys, we’re actually old enough to remember those trends when Clarissa wore them first time round.
So instead of doing something because it’s cool (or ‘not cool’ in an attempt at some sort of sarcastic statement) I started doing stuff because *gasp* I wanted to. High waisted jeans are in fashion; more room for my belly – score. My favourite Community character is Britta. So I’m officially ‘the worst’. I like buying clothes in Marks & Spencer because they’re not as expensive as you might think and the quality is genuinely better than most.
I don’t drink alcohol because hangovers are seriously depressing. Buying new tupperware and stationary excites me.I don’t buy branded gym gear because my mum gives me her old stuff and I can’t afford Nike. OMG. I think music festivals are a ridiculous waste of time and money and would much rather watch my Neil Young DVD at home with mismatched Matalan pyjamas on. Matalan is another highly rated clothes shop in my opinion.
Do people look at me and want to be me? Probably not. Even if they did, it would be for all the wrong reasons; my outgrown pixie crop is starting to accidentally look too Miley Cyrus for my liking and my trousers are so old they look like the worn in ones you buy off the peg from Topshop. But no one cares. They’re too busy thinking about their own style and no substance to consider anyone else. The people who really matter are dressed like shit but have hearts of gold.
