This is an Instagram post that sprouted out today – I wanted to share here too.
Ramble ahead! I posted a Insta Story earlier about finding my book in the Seattle Public Library today. I was totally dorking out with joy. It came out in the US way back in 2009, so never thought it would be there. Yet I posted it with a flippant comment, because I didn’t feel like I should celebrate.
I have a lot of muddled feelings about Dietgirl. On one hand it means the bloody world. Not just the dorky dream of writing a book, but because of the conversations and connections I’ve made with people who kindly read it. Some have become great friends and beloved Instabuddies.
What I struggle with is contradictory. First there are the feelings of failure for not remaining the After photo, like that invalidates any value of the book entirely. I wrote about the After photo struggles on my blog for awhile, then slinked away from the topic. I avoided people and places. There’s been so much shame and fraudy feels.
Then there is the part of me that has come to understand and accept that diets work for so very few people. And the realisation that I bought into the myth for about 30 years. At times I worry the book could be part of the problem.
Then there is the part of me that is so bloody done hiding and ready to make peace with it all. That is excited to finally be in the early stages of recovery from a very old eating disorder. That is happy in my skin and is getting better each day at eating and moving and living with kindness. That is also proud of this little book and so bloody grateful to the people who read it and for everyone who reached out.
So to conclude the ramblefest, I’m really chuffed the (well-thumbed!) book was in the library, but pretty excited about the next chapter.
Okey dokey! That’ll do.
The other day when I got my Tesco grocery delivery, there was a £2.50 Tesco voucher to celebrate our 250th order.
This got me curious to dig out the email confirmation from the very first order. It was 21 March 2005 – right after Gareth and I returned from our Vegas nuptials.
The email read: I am pleased to say that you have done all the hard work – it gets easier from now on.
(Unlike marriage. Boom, tish!)
Looking at the shopping list, it’s clear I had seized control of the menu. I’d only moved in with Gareth about a week before we got married and had yet to learn the fine art of compromise. The poor lad didn’t even get a packet of biscuits!
While I appreciate Tesco’s oh-so-generous voucher, the geek in me wishes they could have used their creepy reservoirs of data to send us some statistics on those 12+ years of orders. I’d love to know what our consumption has tallied up to. 750 litres of milk, 138 kilos of potatoes, 1000 rolls of loo paper? Or 420 avocados, if not for which we could’ve paid off the mortgage?
Both the history of a marriage and my rollercoaster relationship with food lives in those order emails. Gareth starting out as a vegetarian with occasional fish, before the siren song of the bacon lured him astray for a few years (these days he’s back in veggie town). Then there was the Total Greek Yogurt obsession. Gareth’s discovery of Mackie’s Haggis flavour crisps. The Whole30 that barely lasted a week. The Sainsburys Years in Inverness. The long dark stretch with the weekly tub of Haagen-Daaz, scoffed on delivery then evidence hidden in the bottom of the recycling bin. Then, the introduction of Ziggy (Gourmet brand cat food only, please. But not the salmon. Until her majesty changes her mind and demands Felix. Then back to Gourmet again. No, wait…).
P.S. If you are at a loose end, here are some previous supermarket stories: Singing in the aisles. Riding the Orgasmatron. Stop the bus! The Joy of Jellyfruit.
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