Twist in my sobriety

 Once upon a time, this was a weight loss blog. At that time, I was 20 pounds lighter than I am now and I felt fat. This was 16 years ago.

This morning I had the dietician appointment and managed to hit 62kg (136.6lbs - BMI 21.5). I negotiated with him that I still want to drop 3 more kilos (6.5lbs) and have next appointment in one month. I guess I'm going to eat a lot of tomatoes :-) While this may sound strange, I'm happy, happy about how I look and feel, about how strong I am.

 

The dietician is an old physician and a bit of a flirt, the way old gentlemen from his area of Italy can be, and always showers me in compliments. He asked "Is your husband happy that you lost weight?" and I truthfully replied "No, doctor, he would like me fatter - but then again, he always liked boobs and ass on women". He laughed, I just shrugged.

 

S (husband) is unhappy at work. As a consequence of an acquisition, he had to renegotiate his agreement. They made him an offer and he went back asking twice, apparently (at least later on he said this to me) hoping they would reject the offer. They said fine, and now he's pissed again. Meanwhile I got him two other interviews, with my firm and another one. He was unsatisfied with both. The only thing he seems to be into these days is training at the gym.

 

I also am not in the list of things he's happy about. He's not happy about the fact I work too much, about how I dress, how I eat, the weight I lost, the way I look. We had sex last Sunday, for the first time in 30 days. Later I said I was going out shopping and he asked what I was looking for an I said I needed to get some underwear (I'm basically losing my panties after the weight loss) and he said "Oh, ok, just don't buy anything sexy". Ouch. I ended up buying a pair of short jeans that were pretty much what I would have worn at 17 - probably too much indeed, but EVERYONE who has seen me wearing them has complimented me (like even random people in shops). I may not be skinny but I've been training so much it shows. A bit of tan also helps - I mean I feel more comfortable in my body than I have for so many years, and I'm loving that.

 

I am considering a belly button piercing - I wanted one when I was young and never got around to it, and now I look decent again… Husband would be strongly against it so I haven't even told him. I think if I manage to hit 59 kg I'm going to do it, but we'll see. I may still change my mind (I'm a bit afraid of the healing, especially about going to the sea in late August).

 

I think what I'm trying to say is I still love S and still plan to spend the rest of my life with him, but I sometimes wonder if he will ever get out of this rut. He's been unhappy about work over the past two years (he changed one year ago and it was not a good choice) and I get that this affects his whole life, but after two years of bitching I just want my man back. I may be unfair but… I'm the one who's bringing home most money, and yet I'm the one who has to cook dinner every night, who has to manage the household and so on.

 

I am grateful that he never told me "You got fat" or "You look horrible". But these days, whenever I have to go somewhere for work, I feel like I'm escaping. I want to feel "seen", and I'm not getting this at home.

Song for this post: "Twist in my sobriety" by Tanita Tikaram

a conversation with the Panther

 The trip to Florida is in a week, and then in May I have a work event in Barcelona and my sister in law wedding.

I needed a dress that fit and the Panther (mom) needed a break from her daily shenanigans, so she came to Milan last Friday. We went to see an exhibition featuring Marc Chagall drawings, and then shopping. I had already in my mind to buy the same model as the dress below, in an acquamarine color (and in a different size).

"You are not going to wear that right?"

"uh yes, why?"

"your arms are too fat"

"Mom - this is a size 8 and I do not even have to pull by belly in to zip it - I don't think it's necessary to make dramas"

"I still don't think you should wear it - and it doesn't make sense to buy it, why don't you just wear the old one?"

"Because the old one (size 4) does not fit any longer - I would need to drop 15kg (33lbs). And Florida is next week and the wedding is on May 15"

"Well I think you can lose 15 kilos in two months"

"Mom are you kidding me? If I lost 15kg while working in 8 weeks, I would die or worse".

Below the original dress, worn at a wedding in Portugal in summer 2017

I cringe at the thought I felt fat. I was not skinny, but compared to now I was a fucking goddess.

Nothin's fine I'm torn

 Well, it's not as dramatic as the title may suggest, but I've torn AGAIN my left knee meniscus, the same one I broke 3 years ago and had surgery on almost two years ago. It took me 15 months from the surgery to walk okay, and now it's fucked up again. (and even before this last event, it was understood that running was a souvenir from the past).

I do not expect anyone has been reading this rambling blog for the last 10 years or so, but running used to be a big part of my life - until 3 years ago. And then, I got fat: no wonder, as I eat the same (or more) and I used to run something in between 18km and 40km per week.

In any case, there is no way I'm repeating surgery . frankly speaking, it was SO NOT WORTH IT - the pains were much more significant than the benefits.

The only problem is this only leaves me one option which is to lose weight. And instead, of course, I keep gaining :-(

PS how did I tear it this time? Oh, by doing exactly the exercises that all doctors and physiotherapists have suggested I do. What the fuck. 

Nothing but fat

I'm still around, but not much is happening.

Except for me gaining weight, my mother cooking for 10 when it's 5 of us eating, and then nagging at me for my being fat.

Oh, and for forking out an advance payment of €280k for the flat - the purchase will be final at the end of February. The only one that seems excited about this is my nephew Luke, but then again, he's a sweetheart.

Not everything was good back when I was skinny

 The number on the phone says it's from France but I don't recognize it, so I just pick up

"Lucy Shadow speaking"

"Hello Lucy! It's Ben V! You remember? Do you still speak French?"

I do. I remember Ben V. While he keeps talking, I spend about three minutes trying to remember if I've ever had sex with him or not. Ben V was working in the same firm I was in my first years in Lyon.

I decide I did not, mentally pat myself on the shoulder and start paying attention.

While he proceeds telling me he now works for a private equity fund and that they're looking at an Italian company and he's seeking an Italian advisor, etc etc, suddenly some long buried souvenir floats to the surface of my mind.

I remember a mad night some 14 years ago, a night of drinks, sex, screams and madness. A night I had willingly buried in the darkest places of my mind for a long time.

Ben V rambles on and we agree he'll send me an email. I look up at the private equity firm he works for and spot my favourite client among their credentials, so I take a big breath and call him to ask for feedback. The good news is one of the partners who just joined Ben V firm is someone I know well and with whom I enjoy an excellent professional relationship! Of course he asks me why I sound worried about this, and I end up telling him a "mitigated" version of the story.

Later on, I dig into an older blog of mine archive, and found the post below. Trouble is, names have been changed and I can't place a sure identity on "Arnaud". He might be Ben V or he might be another guy who was friend with Nicolas (again, you'll have to read below to understand). Fuck.

Nicolas was a guy I knew in Lyon that I casually dated over a summer. I was 23, single and... well I don't regret the random sex life per se but sometimes it still backlashes at me.

Coyote Ugly

September 25, 2006

 

The night out with Nicolas finally happened but was… awkward

 

Do you all remember the Coyote Ugly girls? The idea was that coyotes that get trapped cut away the trapped leg with their teeth, to run away. Just the way you would want to do sometimes, when you wake up beside someone after a funky night, and all you wish is to run away without waking him. You know what I mean, huh?

 

Before you misunderstand, we did not do it. Ok, I’ll explain everything.

 

I arrived to the party around 9PM, wearing this innocent/lusty dress I have since college, that never failed to make me get what I wanted.

Nicolas wasn’t there yet, but there was Helene, girlfriend and neighbor of mine, who instantly started to pour me her wonderful vodka sour. One hour (and more than one vodka) later, Nicolas arrived with his friends, not yet drunk but already quite high. I just smiled, and he said “My love, why didn’t you answer me?” I was stunned. Picked up the phone and found a message from him, from two hours before, that said “Sweetheart, I’ll arrive later, shall we meet directly at the pub? Kisses”. I watched Nicolas, and smiled while he was saying “I don’t want everyone to see there’s something between us” just to start publicly making out with me, hands all over me and tongue down my throat.

 By the time we left for the pub, the evening was great.

We were both drunk, but still happy drunk. So, making out some more at the pub, just seemed a wonderful idea. Music was great, Nicolas (who apparently knows everyone no matter where he goes) was introducing me as his fiancé (???) to everyone, including my new junior colleague, who just watched me astonished (and I wasn’t enough shit faced to avoid thinking “MERDE, I’ll have to fix this”).

 When we decided to move to a club next door, the drama started. They wouldn’t let us in, basically because Nicolas was all over me. And then Arnaud, Nico’s spazzy friend, came out from the disco. I tried to persuade them to get in without me, so that I could join them a few minutes later, but by this time it was getting hard to explain things to Nico. And then, Arnaud pulled close and grabbed my breast.

I FRAKED OUT.

I got scared, screamed at them both, and tried to left. They tried to persuade me to move to another club with them, but I wasn’t getting it, Arnaud would not let me go and I realized that Nicolas wasn’t really seeing what was happening. So, when a friend of them pulled over in his car and they got distracted, I slipped away, walked for a while in the rain that had started pouring, managed to get a cab and went home sobbing.

Nicolas started calling me while I was in the cab but I was probably incoherent and he was still drunk.

Fifteen minutes after I got home, I had just got out of my drenched dress and into a nightie, when Nicolas showed up at my place. I buzzed him in, because after all I've had so many great nights with Nico and trusted him to be a good guy. I did think he had not fully grasped what was going on and I just wanted someone to hug me.

When I open the door the corridor was pitch black, Nico was drenched and smiling, whispering soft sexy French words. I stood by to let him in, and in he got. And behind him, Arnaud tried to get in as well.

I slammed the door on Arnaud, he backed out, I slammed the door again on his hand and he started howling and finally I got the door shut.

Shaking, I locked the door only to realize Nico was still in, and Arnaud was out pounding fists on my door.  Cold, miserable and frightened, I burst in tears. Nico started talking to the door quitly "Go away Arnaud. Go away. Why are you here? You were supposed to drop me off and leave. Go away or I'm coming out and beat your face to pulp. Was it you then who scared her? Fuck you asshole. Leave now, or I'll call the cops and they'll find some nice white stuff in your pocket".

That must have worked because Arnaud left. I didn't really want Nicolas to stay but I was to afraid to open the door again, and anyway he slumped on the couch shortly after and passed out.

I slept out of exhaustion, but 4 hours later I had to catch the train at 6:30AM (weekend with parents had been planned long ago). I did not want to wake Nicolas and talk about it, so I just left him asleep on my couch leaving him a note.

 

I don’t even know how the hell will I manage to walk into the office on Monday morning, after everyone saw the two of us on Friday night

Back to present, I decide I can't figure who Nico's friend was that night. I haven0t seen any of these people for over 12 years. I give a call to Ben V boss, say hi, and decide I'll take the engagement anyways. The past is gone and shall better stay forgotten. There will be no going for drinks on this engagement in any case. Any out of office meeting will be strictly confined to breakfast!

Skinnier or sober? pieces of conversations

Pain is calling me

and it whispers to me softly "come and play"

I am falling

and IF I LET MYSELF FALL I'M THE ONLY ONE TO BLAME

I'm safe, up high, nothing can touch,

but why do I feel this party is over?

Coming down, coming down

Spinnin' round, spinnin' round

I'm looking for myself skinnier

When it's good then it's good it's so good 'till it goes bad

Till you try to find the you that you once had

I have heard myself cry never again

broken down in agony just trying to puke again.

(this is what I actually hear when I listen to Pink's Sober)

"You need to lose weight darling"

"I know mom, I do"

"Next time I'll cook the meat so it won't be tempting"

"Yes mom, let's do this".

"How much did you lose from last Saturday?"

"3kg" (that's 6.6lbs for you guys)

"It's too much! have you been fasting??"

"No dad. I have had lunch and dinner every day. I'm just stressed. And I probably gained 2kg back in the weekend"

"...."

"I know"

and what if I did it again?

I do not expect anyone to be reading this from back in 2010. But back then I did drop a lot of weight, managed to reach a healthy BMI for once, with 115 pounds and BMI of 18.2.
I had abs showing
I started dating husband.

On this Sunday morning, while working (of course), writing slides on powerpoint and managing some admin stuff, I suddenly thought: and what if I really did it again? Instead of just blogging, obsessing and complaining. What I mean is, what would change if I did it again?

Beside the obvious joy I mean.
Work-wise, for example, it would not make things easier, quite the contrary. Sad but true, being the "once she was a real hottie" is much easier.


I can't control this flesh and blood
That's wrapped around my bones
It moves beneath me like a river
Into the great unknown

Nel deserto la nave abbandonai
Per me aveva senso
Son stato troppo tempo nella bestia
Ed ora saro libero

Someday we'll live like horses
Free rein from your old iron fences
There's more ways than one to regain your senses
Break out the stalls and we'll live like horses someday

Elton John and Luciano Pavarotti, Live like horses

I abandoned my ship in the desert

It made sense

Too much time being a beast

And now I will be free

one step too far?

No posts.
I'm fat.

I would really really like the best manager I have that works for me to hit on me.

I really really hope that does not happen - I know it will not happen.

I still love my husband, but I am freaking out due to work

workworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkworkwork

fuck

Back to black

Back in Milano

but this is not the Milano I craved, I loved and hated. No movida, no aperitivo, no skinny bitches around.

No drugs

No office life, and no after-office parties

In a way, timing is perfect. It may be time to quit the overgrown teenage way of life we've had so far, and live like adults. Might I find enough traction in this, enough desire to maintain a decent body?

We'll see.



Post Scriptum
6 months have passed from my knee surgery and I cannot stay on all fours. it is completely impossible. How can I explain my physical therapist that my (already modest) sex life suffers a significant impairment because of this?

Old habits die hard

I seem to be back to years ago in terms of hectic life.
I left on Sunday morning for Amsterdam and came back last night. On Saturday I'm off to Dubai for a week, then it'll be Montecarlo for another week. work work work work work.

Don't get started with how much fun this is - it is not. I'm too old for this shit.

Meanwhile my husband is also back to his old habits, and on Monday night he claimed he was at home, then disappeared from the world, went out, got shit faced, lost his mobile and faile to show up at a client meeting on Tuesday morning. His team started calling me but I was in Amsterdam and had less news about his whereabouts then his team.

So not looking forward to a good old fight tonight...

I do it for me, and I lie for you

When we come home, after the dinner out with friends, I wait until you go out on the balcony to smoke. As soon as you close the door behind you, I puke as fast as I can, flush, flush a second time, and hurry to brush my teeth.
Do you really never notice?
Mind you, I'm happy that you don't. If you did, this would lead to endless fighting.
But I do wonder, how can you not notice that my eyes are so suddenly bloodshot? You don't notice my foul breath because you don't relly smell anything, even the doctor said your sense of smell is 80% fucked. But you don't notice my red eyes, nor my puffy eyes and eybags in the morning, becuase every time you are drunk I think.

Forgive me for this lie, my love. I do it for myslef, but I lie for the sake of our love. You will never understand this, and I love you too much.

And then sometimes, only sometimes, I wonder... what do you do that I do not notice?

Leave the light on for me

As soon as our friend leaves the table in the winery to go to the restroom, he asks me:
"Do you remember when we went heli-skiing and we had to jump out of the helicopter as it would not land in the place we had chosen for skiing?"
How the fuck do you think I could possibly forget something like that asshole? Of all the stupid things I've done in my life to impress stupid males, this is the one that impressed myself most of all - I think. What I answer is: "Yes, and I still don't get why didn't you make love to me, before or after that"

That kinda leaves him a bit baffled. Serves him right - I do remember the crazy fall from the helicopter, which I thought must have been at least three meters from the ground (later he said 5, but that was probably to impress his friends) and landing in all the snow powder with the blades hitting the air so loudly over my head.

But it only takes him a few second to regain his coolness and smiling like a cat saying "Why, I never thought you would have said yes"
"Shut up stupid - you know perfectly well I asked you to come home with me years before that, when we were in France and I was still hot"
"Damn you were - you still are, but in the Rome office we all still remember how you managed to look hot and innocent at the same time. And after all this years, you still keep wearing these white trousers - we've all had wet dreams about those at some point"

Fuck-you - you still don't want to say it - after all these years?  That you were in love with a chubby and that you like playing and flirting but that's it. Because that is the truth - you did marry her and had kids after all.

But the nice part is, while he still is hot, I'm finding that I truly no longer care, and that I'm having fun but I wouldn't even consider anything with him - I'm actually checking what time it is, because I don't want to come home too late in case Husband gets worried.

Our friend is back, and while later she will tell me that Vi and I "make sparks" and then he was "so smitten with me", I soon leave in the pouring rain (let's all have a silent minute in honor of my formerly white pants please), and run home, where Husband is asleep but has left the light on for me.
And I can't help how much I love Hubby 

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.

Skinny is a rule (Remembering B)

There's a rule that states: if you don't make love at the third date, you are not sure of yourself
There's a story that says who eats an apple commits the worst sin ever
It is so normal thinking... that this life is awesome, even though sometimes it's bringing me down (something's bringing me down), and that Skinny is a rule, that you tried to explain to me, I'll never forget it. I remember the street where I promised I was going to change, but I did not understand how, how do you do it.

There's a rule that states you need a tight gap to be more normal
There's a story that says you need to be skinny to be happy
There is a rule that states that if you need dieting you are a wrong person, like me
It is so normal thinking... that this life is awesome, even though sometimes it's bringing me down (it's bringing us down and down), and that Skinny is a formula you tried to teach me, I'll never forget it
I remember the summer I sworn I would not go there (I would never be fat again), but you never told me if you saved me.
Yes this life is amazing, even though sometimes it brings me down, something brings me down. Maybe Skinny is a rule only you knew, but I'll never forget you.

I didn't start, and I never understood whether you saved me or doomed me, I never understood how to do it, I never understood.


The past is like a handful of dust: it filters through your fingers, disappearing little by little.
I wish that, for one day, I could go back.
In another life, I would do things differently

Back to old habits

Do you remember when you used to fast?

I didn't think I was any longer capable of fasting. The last time must have been in 2011 or maybe even before. Yet, somehow, I've been fasting for 62 hours, and I hope I can go on. The plan is keeping on until Friday night/Saturday morning.

Oh, I had forgotten entirely how deeply satisfying fasting can be!! In case you are wondering, I've had so far two detox drinks (spinach, fennel, celery and chia seeds), and a bowl of green salad (no oil, no sauce, just pure lettuce), which I do consider as fasting. In addition, I worked out twice (gym + running, and one Kayla ITsines BBG workout), and I plan to workout tonight as well (another Kayla Itsines session).

Let's face it, the only reasons I can actually make it are i) my husband is away/working all the time and has work dinners pretty much all week long, and ii) I'm doing nothing at work.

Work, by the way, is so bad right now I don't even want to talk about it.

Well let's see how long I can make it last. I kinda feel younger.

bad

Lana Del Rey is killing me

Work is killing me

Being fat is killing me

Kiss me all before you go, summertime sadness
I just wanted you to know
that baby, you're the best

Mid year moderation meeting at work. Turns out I'm the best of my group. Yet, there may be no place for promotions. Which I already did not get last year.

I'm fat. I'm ashamed of my fatness.

Just wanna go back to when I was 16 and skinny
Living in the UK summertime with Kat, who really was the best at that time.

I really really really feel miserable in my body. I wish I could just no longer care about work and focus on training and dieting.

I cannot die, because then I'd stay fat forever. Nothing scares me more.

Kat is gone, my sweet 16 are gone, the time when I was skinny's gone.

All that's left is this fat sitting on my belly, on my bootie, on my legs, every fucking where.

and I'm the only one to blame

it is never enough
whatever I do, it is never enough

I've dropped 2kg of fat over 7 days, yet I somehow managed to gain 1kg of water. screw me

I'm training hard, and most of the time I'm exhausted. I'm also not sleeping well, so on weekends, I try to get some rest through a nap or such. Dad just told me on the phone "I don't want to see you on the couch the whole weekend" (instead of saying "lovely that you're coming to visit").

And work, that's the worst.


when it's good then it's good it's so good
till it goes bad

I'm still trying to find the me I once had

Looking for the skinny girl hidden underneath my fat

If there is one thing I am not, and I have never been, is creative.
Yet I always longed to be one of this talented people who can draw, paint, play an instrument, write something, in an amazing way.
I just don't have this kind of talents and I'm not going to set for something "good enough", so I just leave things at that.

But one thing I used to be. Skinny, that is.

Time flies, and it seems only yesterday I was the skinniest girl in my high school.

This year, I need to reshape my body into a better me.
Since I'm not managing to do it on my own, I just signed up for a check with a doctor who will give me a diet made up accordingly to my food limitations (no meat, and fish only if raw). I know that the first reaction will be that I don't need to drop any more than 2 kg and even that wouldn't be considered as "necessary" (hah hah! what do THEY know?), but I'll make things clear and set out a goal that won't be considered as mad. Then I'll have to report twice a week, so that should me my main motivation, because hey, this is like school, if you don't get good grades it can only mean you're getting bad grades, right?

So far, I'm doing very badly with the weight (I gained 1kg in barely three days), but I'm doing well with my training goals. Tomorrow I'll go skiing (freeriding) with the Sonsor (dad) and Bro, and that is likely to kick my metabolism (a full day of freeriding just the three of us can mean 2000kcals burned in addition to the basal metabolism).

I hope you're doing good lovelies, and if you live in Italy, ask books or clothes for the Befana. don't be tricked with chocolate! ;-)

Drugs

In first place, I would ask you not to judge.

In second place, please skip this post entirely if you feel that you can’t stand talking about drugs, if you hate drugs, and even more if you’re insanely attracted to drugs.

I mean it, okay?

When I was 18, for almost one year I did a lot of drugs.

Even though I have no regrets, when I say a lot, I mean, well, a lot. Like, over 3 grams of coke every week, plus lots of weed and occasional other recreational things (like, twice a month something else on top).

After 9 months or so, I realized that the boy I was dating and I were on different paces: recreational for me, addiction for him. Eventually, after cutting drugs off my life, I cut him off as well, because we made different choices.

Nowadays I’m basically clean, by which I mean that I may smoke (very little) weed a couple times a year, and same thing for the white stuff (of course not at the same times). Considering I don’t smoke cigarettes at all, I’m fine with this lifestyle, and please, I don’t need judgments.

However, let’s face the truth: cocaine makes things damn easy. Not only I feel no urge to eat, on the last two times I did it, on the next day I went running and girls, it was AMAZING. It makes me feel like I could run forever, and I manage to keep a faster pace than usual (two months ago I managed to keep a 11.5km per hour pace for 6.5km, which is a little over 4 miles I think).

Two people in my family are cardiologists, so yes, I know everything about the side effects. I repeat, I’m not a regular. I will never be. I have no urge towards drugs.

But girls, I could almost entirely stop eating through it.

In my secret life

Although I had at least 200kcals of French fries last night (due to celebrations with an old friend), I am still losing, and I woke up this morning at 134lbs (60.8). I’m dropping 250gr on average on good days (c.0.6lbs).

Depending on my mood, it feels somewhere between barely okay and definitely not enough.

But could I possibly drop faster? Considering I’m working every day well over 12 hours, up to 15? I mean, I even went to the gym 4 times so far this week.

Every time I step in front of a mirror, I expect to see the skinny girl I used to be. Instead I get a blobby mess staring back at me. I proved to be capable to go down to 118lbs (54kg) last year, but that’s still 18.9BMI. Still blobby.

What I want is what I used to be as a teenager: 104lbs. 47kg. 16.5 BMI.

The only time in my adult life I got back to that weight, I screwed up work, and that I can’t do. Because even if no money is no food, I need a place to live, I need to pay the gym fee, I need nourishment for my soul.

Somehow, after all this time, I’m still waiting for a miracle to come.