So I’m on this thing called The Divorce Diet. It’s awesome. No counting calories, no starving yourself. All you do is get dumped by your partner of 23 years. And, voila, you lose 10kg in four months.
OK, there might have been less food in the first few months, but I didn’t notice because I was too nauseous. Now I’m eating like a horse and it’s still falling off me.
The downside is that all the sexy lingerie I keep buying doesn’t fit. I’ve spent the kids’ education money on bits of Elle Macpherson frippery that sits in the drawer gathering dust. I started out a 14D, downgraded to a 14C, then discovered today I’m actually a 12C.
I think the bra fitting girl thought I had body dysmorphia when I trailed up to her and said I needed a 16C because I had too much side boob action. She got out the tape measure and said “You’re measuring a 10.”
Unfortunately, after growing two enormous 4kg-plus babies and my weight yo-yoing extravagantly over the years, I looked a bit like a sharpei in the changerooms.
So my excitement over her magic “10” words didn’t last long.
Part of me also worries that my dramatic weight loss with no accompanying starvation might mean my disaccaride deficiencies are rearing their heads again, especially since there’s so much excess glucose partying in my blood stream.
But people tell me it’s probably just the stress that’s chewing up the calories. (Does it really do that?) And I’ll admit there’s been a hell of a lot of that lately.
Look at me and you’d think I was cool as a cucumber (well perhaps not if you saw me sobbing in the street after my farking moodle jumped on my sister’s bloke’s broken hand, or after I sucked at Methode last week) but geez there’s a lot going on: separation, selling the house, searching for a new house, wondering whether to rent or buy, wondering whether to take over my sister’s rental (which involves bunking in with her for 10 days) or finding one of my own, new job, new computer system to learn …
I have to keep reminding myself to unclench my teeth … which reminds me of the plastic surgeon who botoxed my jaw a few years back. I found his card while I was clearing out the attic. He was pretty awesome. Maybe he could fix the sharpei effect … and give me a jowl lift at the same time … I wonder how many weeks off work you need for something like that … stop, Alana, you have enough to worry about already …
Song of the day: Bon Iver “Skinny love”