Publications
Partners
So, it’s August which is just one month away from September which is just a short four weeks before October and before we know it... its summer again.
Oh God.
That means the annual ‘hate my body’ pilgrimage is about to begin.
I expect it will start the same way it always does, denial.
I will fool myself into thinking this winter hasn’t been so bad. I will convince myself that my washing has shrunk, or my favourite shirt has always been a little bit too tight. I may even stubbornly wear said shirt in public – desperate to ignore all warning-signs that I have become winter’s bitch, again.
Then, I will become angry. My anger will spill out, attacking innocent friends and co-workers.
“WHYYYY did you let me eat all that” I will scream at their pitying faces. I will attack winter – that cold, barren battle-axe for forcing me to eat casseroles and stews to stay warm. I will blame my couch, my electric blanket, my gas heater - all for making my home too comfortable. “You selfish appliances” I will spit at them, can’t you see what you’ve done?”
After this, stage three. A guilt-ridden look back over the hibernation months where I happily drowned myself in baggy shirts, lapping up creamy soups and thick, buttery slices of bread. Where the idea of shaving was just a distant memory and gym was only that big ugly building I drove past on my way to work.
I will wallow in regret until stage 4 sinks in; the bargaining stage.
At this stage in the process I will become manic, signing up for anything and everything. I will commit myself to early-morning runs and after-work spinning classes.
I will start to loiter at the water-cooler when I know my fitness-friends are around, desperately hoping some of their energy will rub off on me, and I will fill my fridge with gluten-free, sugar-free, taste-free meals in my efforts to ‘detox,’ which I will proclaim loudly, to anyone and everyone in the nearest vicinity, is what i'm doing.
And then, eventually, when the sun is too hot to ignore and the ocean is calling my name, I will, just for a second remember to ‘forget myself.’
I’ll put on my bikini – even if I hate the way it makes me look - and I’ll go for a swim, because summer’s too short, and life’s too short.
And besides, it won’t be long before I have to start this painful pilgrimage all over again.
Follow Georgie on Twitter, Women24 on Twitter and like us on Facebook
Oh God.
That means the annual ‘hate my body’ pilgrimage is about to begin.
I expect it will start the same way it always does, denial.
I will fool myself into thinking this winter hasn’t been so bad. I will convince myself that my washing has shrunk, or my favourite shirt has always been a little bit too tight. I may even stubbornly wear said shirt in public – desperate to ignore all warning-signs that I have become winter’s bitch, again.
Then, I will become angry. My anger will spill out, attacking innocent friends and co-workers.
“WHYYYY did you let me eat all that” I will scream at their pitying faces. I will attack winter – that cold, barren battle-axe for forcing me to eat casseroles and stews to stay warm. I will blame my couch, my electric blanket, my gas heater - all for making my home too comfortable. “You selfish appliances” I will spit at them, can’t you see what you’ve done?”
After this, stage three. A guilt-ridden look back over the hibernation months where I happily drowned myself in baggy shirts, lapping up creamy soups and thick, buttery slices of bread. Where the idea of shaving was just a distant memory and gym was only that big ugly building I drove past on my way to work.
I will wallow in regret until stage 4 sinks in; the bargaining stage.
At this stage in the process I will become manic, signing up for anything and everything. I will commit myself to early-morning runs and after-work spinning classes.
I will start to loiter at the water-cooler when I know my fitness-friends are around, desperately hoping some of their energy will rub off on me, and I will fill my fridge with gluten-free, sugar-free, taste-free meals in my efforts to ‘detox,’ which I will proclaim loudly, to anyone and everyone in the nearest vicinity, is what i'm doing.
And then, eventually, when the sun is too hot to ignore and the ocean is calling my name, I will, just for a second remember to ‘forget myself.’
I’ll put on my bikini – even if I hate the way it makes me look - and I’ll go for a swim, because summer’s too short, and life’s too short.
And besides, it won’t be long before I have to start this painful pilgrimage all over again.
Follow Georgie on Twitter, Women24 on Twitter and like us on Facebook
