Wow, so 24 months ago I would never have thought I would be sat here writing this blog post. Actually - let's scrap that - I didn't think I would ever write this at all. After all.. ME? Body confident? What is that? I'll start by saying that being the only female this year was a little daunting. It's always so much easier to lounge around the pool and wear skimpy shorts when you're paired with another female. No mum, no cousin, no friend. Just me, myself and two men. No.. not like that. My dad and younger brother, actually! This is the first holiday ever that I have left packing to the last minute. I usually shop for outfits a few months in advance. This year I didn't give a f*ck. Certainly not the Samantha I know. Anyway, I packed capsule pieces with a few statement evening outfits. I was holy anticipating to abandon anything figure hugging and instead rely on some high waisted shorts 24/7. So I've certainly been doing well. I actually found myself smiling at the fact I struggle to get in and out of my shorts.. not due to weight gain but actually good'ld "booty gain". Hehe. On a serious note, I don't think I actually realised how stressful the British lifestyle is until this holiday. A few days in and I have to say that the sun kissed tan and damp messy hair was making me feel incredibly empowered as a woman. Damn, I felt just too relaxed. I was actually okay making minimal effort and focusing more on each moment I was encountering.You'll see my dedicated photograph collection on instagram. I hand picked the best. Trust me, I've done you a favour. Anyway, nothing is every truly perfect so of course had to encounter the holiday bloat - like we all do. I also had a little bit of a breakout on my face. I started to feel a tad sluggish BUT will happily blame the cocktails for that one, cheers honey! See, now what I learnt is that sometimes compromise needs to be had. I'm enjoying life - all of the sights, smells and sensations; of visiting somewhere new. I'm not overly bothered by how my body has changed from day 1 to day 10; I know what it's capable of and I love it anyway. I have now recognised more than ever just how strict my diet and lifestyle is at home. Gym daily, healthy food with the weekly treats, a job that keeps me on my feet. My body is probably shattered and deserves a break just as much as my mind and soul! 2017 My first holiday body confidentSounds like such an achievement. Well it did, until I got to day 5 and I realised that I forgot to pack continuations of my medication. No antidepressants, anxiety suppressants, no hormone regulation. FUCKFUCKFUCK. All I could think about was this dark cloud of depression and the anxiety-related-agitation finishing me off and compromising the rest of the holiday. How could I be so silly? I spent the next day sleeping by the pool and dozing in and out of sleep in the hotel room. My anxiety about this error had consumed my mind and I had no energy. At home, I would refuse to eat and continue to sleep until the 'nightmare' was over. But, being on holiday with other people removes the luxury of being able to do as you please. I had no choice but to face this battle. I had experienced too much joy so far and I wasn't prepared to lose it all overnight. We had already booked an excursion for the very next day and I knew that I should look at it as an opportunity for distraction instead of 'what could possibly go wrong'. I'm so glad I did. Today proved that as much as I need medication to stabilise my emotional wellbeing - I am strong enough not to be dependent on it. Yes, okay, those of you who are all science-geeks would like me to point out that I probably have enough in my system to miss my doses for a few days. You're right. But, it is also psychological and that is the point I am trying to demonstrate. We stopped at a beach on the excursion. I stripped down to my bikini and emersed myself in the water. I requested a bikini picture. It wasn't until I looked at my camera roll that I realised that for as long as I thought I looked 'bloated' and 'preggers' my body was only a little bit bloated. I still look good. I am still proud of my body. No other holiday compares in regards to the amount of emotional freedom I feel. I'm eating and drinking what I want - when I want. I'm continuing to wear figure hugging clothes and even request the odd photograph in a bikini. The initial capture actually made it to instagram.. like WOW. My body is relaxing and to some extent is getting a tad abused by the free bar. But this is something that is only temporary and the extra chub can quickly be battled at home. Long gone are the memories of being called 'fat' on holiday by my "other half". Gone are the days of deleting all holiday pictures. I am still not looking 110% how I hoped to look but fuck that. I know the gym is waiting for me.. and I know my body deserves a rest. My first experience of being body confident holiday has been a real eye opener. I know that I've only just started working towards who I want to become.
The future looks promising!
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Am I what I eat?
I often wonder if my eating habits really do affect my mental health. If I eat crap.. do I tend to isolate myself. If I eat next to nothing.. do I become irritable? If I eat healthily.. do I radiate more positive energy? I'm not really sure of the answer to this. Everyone knows that the healthier your diet; the better you will feel not only physically, but mentally as well. It's not rocket science that those who eat fresh produce and less refined sugar and additives are likely to live longer. I also know that a lot of people dismiss the rationale for food impacting mental health; stating that depression can strike regardless. My own experience, which is often shared by others, is that high caffeine intake can induce anxiety attacks and/or make them worse. Whether you believe those statements doesn't really matter. The reality is if you don't take care of yourself you won't lessen the depression, or atleast minimise it's affect on a day to day basis. It's also very common for mental health and food to become entwined. If you reflect on bulimia and anorexia - they have similar emotional triggers and eating patterns to that of obesity. Our relationship with food can be unhealthy, obsessive and in some cases deadly. I suppose it would be easier for me to illustrate this idea if my health was straightforward. However, food can either be used as a punishment or an emotional dependency. Over the years my weight has fluctuated. I have been a size 8 and I have been a size 16. My largest size was half caused by comfort eating and half caused by an ovarian cyst. Notice how I'm taking some responsibility? The impact this had on me was huge. Literally. I gained weight but couldn't see that until I became uncomfortably big. I felt trapped - almost as if I had no choice but to be fat. It was crap. In contrast, my smallest size was caused by punishment and my attempt to control my emotions:- to keep them concealed. I was living off of kitkats, cigarettes and those baby purified meals in squeeze tubes. Yes, I'm deadly serious. I wasn't into exercise. All I was interested in was drinking water one day and eating food substitutes the next. How I survived that I have no idea. What about now? I'm a healthy 10-12 (though my wide hips sometimes make me a 14). I eat pretty good and I gym pretty hard. Yes I still eat donuts on a frequent basis but I can finally say that I have control over my relationship with food. That's not to say that my relationship with food isn't a challenge. I still go between starving and over indulging. It's mood dependent and also dependent on what I see in the mirror that day. In some ways I view it as 'everything in moderation'. Some days I feel like little miss piggy and I deprive myself of food. Other days I feel like america's next top model and I have cake after cake after cake! It's somebody's birthday somewhere - right? The only constant I have is my PCOS and it's affect on my insulin levels. If I starve myself for too long I get a headache and feel like I'm going to pass out. If I overindulge, I feel very bloated, incredibly nauseous and have a sore stomach. Not to mention the issues my ovaries cause themselves - such as bloating after breakfast which lasts until the next morning. Even the thought of those symptoms makes my body feel funny. It's mad. I calorie track on a daily basis working with a weekly allowance. The days I binge - I experience hunger for the next. But you see, the old me would comfort eat. I would have SERIOUS 'fuck it' approach. My most recent weight is a reflection of the muscle I have gained. I don't actually look the number on the scale, yet It still causes me anxiety. Anything above 9 stone tends to attract gasps. But you Know what? As of 2017 I finally have the mantra of 'this is me, good and bad, my body is coping with extraordinary things, my body can also achieve extraordinary things, so I'll be kind' I know the effort I put in and what I get out of it is priceless to my mental health. If any friend or boyfriend comments on my weight - the door is 'there', they can open it if they so wish. I may not be thin and I may not be 110% toned. But I'm almost definetly not fat:- despite what my mind tells me daily. |
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January 2019
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