Supermarket Fury

Going to the supermarket. Christ, is there anything worse? They just get bigger and bigger and when I finally leave I’ve lost 3 hours and wonder if I’ve been abducted by aliens. I know, I know. I’m lucky to have a supermarket to go to. Nonetheless. I feel like I am there every single day of my godless life. And you can’t just go in and buy the one thing you actually need, or at least I can’t, there are always half a dozen other things. Ooh, that’s on sale! Ooh, that’ll be good for dinner! Ooh, my favorite piece of junk food that is not at all good for me but I like to eat anyway! So, even though all I freaking needed was a loaf of bread that I can buy for 40 pence- I end up leaving with £35 worth of groceries. Granted, I buy a lot of reduced stuff that can be frozen and used for future meals, so I save money in the long run. I’m trying to bring my family round to trying the paleo diet, which I gather is just meat and veg and the money I’d save by shopping at the green grocer and the butcher and never setting foot in a supermarket makes me giddy with possibilities, I might finally be able to fix my sons bike! Lo and behold my family likes their carbs, thank you very much, so I may have to employ the use of stealth when making the switch. Though there is always the possibility of the old “I’m paying for the groceries, if you don’t like what I’m buying, get a job and buy your own.” That tends to stop the whining in it’s tracks…

What annoyed me recently (well, ok, a month ago) at the supermarket was the cashier. Usually they just ring the stuff up and make small talk (occasionally with me, usually with a colleague or the customer in front who won’t pick up their damn bags and GO already) but this one decided she needed to comment about what we were buying. Grrr. We’d gone in for only a few items but I’d come across quite a few sale items, of course. So we had three boxes of ice cream bars at 50 pence each for the kids, an apple tart that I thought would be a nice dessert one night for £1. Two boxes of my favorite cornettos, 2 for £2. And some other bits and bobs. Yes, there was a bit of junk. I joked about it to my husband. Yet this cashier decided she need to tell me all about weight watchers. And how half her grocery shopping is always vegetables. I tried to keep things light, and said something about how it’ll be nice when the kids go back to school and arent clamoring for ice cream all the time. To which she replied “Well that’s when you tell them they can have a piece of fruit!”

Sorry, guys. Kids with fat mommies aren't allowed ice cream!

This annoyed me. I didn’t say anything to her, other than just a “Oh, I do!” but the sheer audacity pissed me off. Why pass judgement on my purchases? I have three slim, healthy, active children. One of which prefers to snack on carrots more than anything else, and two who love salad and always have seconds. They arent allowed to drink soda, fast food is a rare treat and all their regular meals are homemade. They get told “If you’re that hungry, have a carrot or a piece of fruit” six times a day. The only one who eats to much junk in my household is me. And clearly I am an adult and perfectly capable of deciding for myself what and how much I eat. I have one child who hates fruit and veg and would prefer to eat junk all day. I don’t allow this. His favorite breakfast item is cereal, which I rarely buy. He has to eat more healthy food. If he doesnt eat his carrots at dinner, he gets no dessert, etc.

I suppose people just like to feel superior and I shouldn’t be offended, but it seems to illustrate once again that fat people are fair game for ridicule. I know I’m fat, I promise I’m not stupid and I really don’t need a lecture from the cashier on the value of eating vegetables. Neither do I need random people assuming that since I am fat, I am a simpleton incapable of appropriate parenting, especially as how the 6 year old next door is never without a can of coke and a packet of sweets, though his mom is thin as a rail. Shockingly enough, I don’t sit around eating junk and watching daytime telly all day, either.

So what I’d like to say to that cashier is this: “Look bitch, it’s the middle of August, the kids are off school and if I want to give them some damn ice cream, I will. And, by virtue of not being stupid, I know exactly how to lose weight when and if I choose to, so I really don’t need you to lecture me about weight watchers and fucking vegetables.”

Wow, Thanks, Kid. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said.

I love my morning wake up calls. Even the 5am ones, promise. I love them because they come with a cuddle from Rafe, a kiss and always laughter. If that’s not the best way possible to start a morning, I don’t know what is. But, I must admit that, beauty wise, early morning is not my best time. Bed head and tangled clothes, sleep in my eyes. It’s not pretty.   Lately, Rafe is fascinated with my stomach. I won’t lie, it’s pretty big. I did gain  2 stone in 2010, after all, and if you’ve read my blog before chances are you’ll be familiar with my weight loss efforts even before that.

I don’t get upset, of course. He’s only 4 and at that age it’s all about stating facts. At 5am I don’t harbour any illusions about being skinny. And you know, it’s kind of nice to have that sort of fresh certainty. It’s not a judgement, it’s a fact. He doesnt care if I have a big belly or a little one, and it’s such a non issue, it simply wouldn’t occur to him that his comments might be hurtful.

The rest of my family are so lovely and sweet however that they will rush to my aid, assure me I’m not “fat”, I’m beautiful and they love me. Which is nice, but of course, I am fat. Denying that does not teach them the right lessons and it does get a bit tiresome. I am an adult, and as much as other things get me down, and yes even my weight sometimes, it is not what defines me. I’ve had three kids, I’ve got a sweet tooth and when things are bad I comfort eat. I think it’d be more of shock if I wasn’t fat! That doesn’t mean I like strangers commenting on it, or people telling me how I should be eating,etc. But,  I assume that I will not be fat my entire life and there are plenty of years left in my life to do something about it, years when I’m not trying to raise three young kids, deal with money issues and resuscitate a dead marriage.

So, I find Rafe’s observations about my belly charming and amusing. “You could have a baby in there, Mommy!” (puts ear to my belly to listen)  “Or TWO babies and LOTS of daddies!!!”  (Ok, seriously it’s not that big!!)  They remind me of my daughter who, when I was pregnant with Rafe, commented “You look like you ate about 1000 taco’s mommy!”  (We were having taco’s for dinner) And we just sat around the dinner table and laughed when she said that, because it was so cute and so funny.

I get down about my weight, sure. I’d love to be skinny. But, it’s more important to have perspective, right?  And if nothing else, my kids make sure I’ve got perspective by the truck load. Well, that and fat, of course.

 

In which I unleash the children on the kitchen

Desperate to work on my essay undisturbed, I promised the kids they could make some sugar cookies. All by themselves. There were a few hiccups, “Mommy, what’s the fat?” And the baby refused to give up the spatula, or the beaters, or the spoon for the cause, being to busy licking them. Their measuring may not have been quite up to snuff as they ended up with a batter as opposed to a dough suitable for cutting shapes out of, but I spied a half a bag of chocolate chips in the cupboard and so we turned them into chocolate chip cookies.

They were sure to chill them for a bit but maybe not long enough as they still spread while baking and formed a block of cookie. But they turned out good, edible, even. When they had cooled completely they dug out my icing markers and enjoyed drawing all over them.

These are the remains after they each pawed over them and ummed and awwed and finally chose two and I had half of one to test it’s edibleness. They look a bit overdone, but don’t worry- they were soft and tasty. My eldest will testify to this.

What they don’t realize is that this was actually a test. To see if they could cook proper food without blowing up,melting,or setting fire to anything. They passed my duplicitous little test and I officially never have to cook again! Oh, my own personal chefs. Lovely. What shall I request first? Duck a l’Orange?

Oh, and in case you were wondering, I didn’t get a damn thing done on that essay.

oh, and also-

Overweight people are not all overweight because “they obviously don’t eat only when they’re hungry”. There are lots and lots of reasons for obesity.

Ignorance + Stereotypes= a hateful society.

I am apalled at the amount of hate filled diatribes aimed at poeple who are “obese”.  I know that there is always some group of people that get treated like dirt for being different, whether it’s a different religion, or skin colour, or political affiliation.  And every time that group of people manage to throw off the rampant discrimination associated with their group, it just moves right on to another group of people.

Is it possible we could just live up to our perceived humanity and evolution and just stop, altogether? Why does there always have to be a group of society that we deem less worthy, less smart, less pretty, less capable, etc? If we started acting like we were all equals, perhaps we really could start feeling like it, too.

what? you are joking. right?

“Well, if you’re fat- it’s simply a case of putting to many calories in one end and not doing enough work to burn them off!”

“So, you’re saying that fat people are fat because they’re lazy sods who sit around eating all day?”

“Well…. need I say anything?”

She’s referring to me, apparently since I am overweight I qualify, despite the fact there isn’t a speck of food on my desk and my last meal was lunch three hours ago.  I choose to ignore the personal dig, I’m overweight because I’ve had three kids in ten years and have never made a concentrated effort to lose the baby weight, not because I sit around eating all day. (well, not every day.)

“So,” I say, “What about all the skinny people who sit around eating crap all day…?”

“Well, that just proves it!” she says

“Well it proves that there are lots of skinny people who eat crap and don’t exercise!”

“Well…..oh…”

the conversation ends.

 

I was blown away, first by the sheer ignorance and this attitude of “fat people are fat because they are lazy and eat to much!” and then further by my discovery of this company, which apparently teaches people that they are fat because they can’t control themselves, and use eating as a coping mechanism.

There are many reasons for people being fat or skinny, and it amazes me that there is such a hurtful, ignorant attitude prevalent amongst “skinny” people.  We can all agree that being overweight is not a healthy thing. But to have such a venomous and condescending attitude towards overweight people is really sad.  I am the only overweight person in my office and I am constantly shocked at the way my skinny colleagues talk about “fat” people. It’s just so cringeworthy, incredibly insulting, patronizing and condescending.

I’m not saying we should encourage people to be overweight, but we certainly shouldn’t be bullying those who are overweight or making them feel like they are just really stupid, lazy people.

stupid broken scale.

I step off the scale, and then back on. Depressingly, the numbers don’t change. How can I gain two pounds from one day to the other? Especially when I’m walking up that flaming great hill every morning? Dejected, I gather up my things and continue to my office.

I know better than to expect immediate results, but part of me had hoped that I would start shedding weight, at least a pound or two, relatively quickly. Walking up the hill every morning from the train station is not exactly grueling, but it does give my breathing an extra puffiness, it makes my muscles from ankle to thigh burn, it turns my legs into lead weights from the shins down, it makes me want to sit down, to lay in the cool wet grass of that field just to my left and just…rest. It makes my leg come perilously close to locking up, dropping me to the ground where I will writhe and cry and eventually phone my husband to come and get me please, my leg has stopped working. Surely I don’t deserve to actually gain weight.

People- do not have children. They only make you fat.

In other news- the BNP have failed to win any seats in yesterdays elections! That is GREAT news. What’s not great is that they have gotten enough votes to keep on trying. This party is bad for Britain. It’s so plainly obvious. Hopefully the voters will continue to keep them out of Parliament.