07 December 2017

Can I?

extreme ways that helped me, they helped me out late at night...

bank holiday, and of course I'm working. I'm working 14h+ a day, and I lost a few hours yeasterday as I drove Husband to ER (he woke up in the middle of the night with a huge swollen eye that hurt - luckily no big issue, but it was a big scare.

After this dad told me to get some contramal (basically, morphine in drops) just in case he needed it.

After indulging all afternoon in how convenient it  would be keeping some at home (and dear dad promptly supplied me with a prescription), you know, for emergencies... or for when I'm so stressed I cannot fall asleep... or for when I have a neckache... or for when I'm stressed out.... 
      I decided it's better not to buy any (Hubby was much better anyways), got a bottle of wine for dinner and treated myself into leaving work at 8PM and having dinner at home with husband and wine.

What's scaring me is how often I find myself thinking that drugs would help me get through all this. Mind me, I'm really not doing any drugs - I've even cut on the ibuprofen, but that must be a sign on how our current life is not sustainable. We are working EVERY fucking weekend, in addition to long weeks, and needless today, we are working today and tomorrow (bank holidays here).
I know it's 12 to 18 more months like this, but I'm starting to wonder if I CAN make through it.

17 November 2017

These words

All I ever wanted was you: I’ll never get to heaven, ‘cause I don’t know how.

Let’s raise a glass or two, to all the things I’ve lost on you, tell me are they lost on you? Just that you could cut me loose, after everything I’ve lost on you, is that lost on you?

My god, these words. Oh, skinny Lucy, the things I lost on you and in the end I don't have you.

16 November 2017

Glamour, different story, one of these days

I flew to London last week on Tuesday, under my client insistence that I was vital for their negotiation. I was supposed to be back on Wednesday, and ended up spending the whole week there. From here on, there are two versions of the story. You pick.

We went to dinners and events, got into the VIP area at the Ministry of Sound, with Uber smoothly carrying us from one party to the other.
I felt fabulous, champagne flowed, I barely ate over the week and felt trendy and cool all the time.

Or, maybe, I spent 4 days (and a good part of the nights) stuck into a lawyers' office, negotiating strenuously, stuffing my face with whatever food was brought in at any time, barely noticing whether it was day or night.

Xmas stuff was already everywhere, and although Hyde Park WinterWonderlad park (which I adore) wasn't yet opened, Harrods had already amazing stuff on show, and the first Xmas trees were being set up. I loved hanging around Harrods with my lovely white coat with a white fur neck!

I was hoping to grab one coffee from Starbucks while in London - believe it or not, in one week I never had enough spare time to walk into a starbucks and grab a take away cup. How fucked up is that?

Yesterday my client called to thank me again and say how his whole whole team was impressed with my job, so maybe that makes up for the pound I gained. Maybe?

If Husband and I make it through this year, I think we can make it through a lifetime together.
This is a pic of us that was taken last year on this day.
When I look at it, I think it's the way I hope we can head into the future

24 October 2017

Random thoughts

Failure is the reason beyond my silence.
Somehow, I managed to reach 139 pounds (63kg), for a BMI of 22.1.
Quoting the amazing To kill a mockingbird, "Atticus told me to delete the adjectives, and I'd have the facts", so this is the blunt truth.
I don't even know how exactly it happened; probably a combination of weekend binges and too many nights where instead of salad I chose the comfort of cookies and milk. The level of stress has been so high since the end of August that this tends to happen pretty often.
On top, I seem to spend my life in airports, as I'm flying to London and back at least once and often twice a week, to spend the day in neverending meetings where I indulge walker cookies (ginger stems are my passion)
However, making excuses will not change facts, and so I followed the suggestions from a skinny boy that works with me and started this Clean 9 program. The idea is that you start with 2 days of fasting (I'm only drinking a cup of skimmed milk per day), and then you have 6 more days restricting.
I dropped three pounds on day one, which is not bad. I hope to drop at least one more by tomorrow morning.
The program also involves drinking some aloe vera gel (overall circa 80kcals a day), which is so utterly disgusting that it probably helps in killing any appetite for real food.

I managed to fast for three days, follow the program for 2 more, and then started puking. I quickly abandoned the aloe shit, and I'm still stuck at 61.5kg (135.6lbs).

I really need to eat less and, even more important, train more.
If by next year in December I have not managed to enter the Partner selection program at work, I'm giving up this job. Honestly, it's really overwhelming. I did not work last weekend, and it was the first time since August (by "I did not work" I mean I left the office at 10PM on Friday night, had a call on Sunday afternoon, and was back at 8AM on Monday morning, but I did not turn on my computer).



07 September 2017

Linguini? Alfredo? what the hell?!

Dear, lovely American friends,
on average, you are adorable, but sometimes I wonder how can you be so delusional?
So please brace yourself for this truth:
No such thing as Linguini Alfredo, or Fettuccine Alfredo exists in Italy.
In addition, Linguini's real name is Linguine

How comes that in 2017 the NYT still reports this kind of recipes and tags them as Italian?

Having taken this off chest, let's move on

after a wedding in the south, a few days of good old style work related stress managed to make me drop 4lbs in two days.
of course now I'll head out for celebratory drinks, effectively fucking all the small progress done so far.
meh