The long weekend of boy

8:35am Saturday 17th March
“Fark, fark, fark … move people! I’m running laaaate!”. It was all I could think as I ran through the rabbit warren of the London Underground, like I had a white hot poker up my arse.

8:40am
Passing Costa Coffee in a disheveled mess of blonde hair and pashmina scarf. THE rendezvous point for meeting the boy if I was running late (am I really that unpunctual that we have to make these plans?!). No boy. Thank the Lord! I will be able to meet him off the train.

8:45am
No sign of boy.

8:58am
Still no sign of boy.

Shite it’s cold. Only yesterday it was a pleasant 15 degrees soaked with sun. Today, it’s 3 degrees and overcast. Typical. Welcome to London, enjoy your stay.

9:00am
Switch seats after sleeping hobo gets up and moves off. I figure his seat is going to be much warmer than mine. It’s not. My arse is freezing.

9:10am
Another Gatwick Express train has arrived. That’s a total of three in the time I’ve been here.

Still no boy. Begin to wonder if there was a problem with the flight (his original flight was meant to fly into Heathrow at 6:30am but his flight plan was changed to a direct flight into Gatwick at 7:30am due to some storm on the East coast of the States). Then begin to panic that he has been refused entry to the great British nation because he was traveling on his diplomatic passport. A little naughty but not illegal.

9:20am
Stroll up to look at flight board in front of Gatwick Express ticket office. It only lists departing flights from Gatwick. Dammit!

9:25am
Another train arrives. No boy.

9:30am
Pull out my lugging big book out of lugging big bag (a Mary Poppin’s type carpet bag). I try to read a bit. I read the same sentence four times. I place lugging big book back in lugging big bag.

9:35am
Begin to clean nails. Another train has arrived. And then I see him. He hasn’t seen me. He’s striding up the concourse trailing his very grown up suitcase (he normally carries a duffle bag that is never essentially packed but rather a mish-mash of his travel items!). I can see, even from a distance, he has grown a beard. Umm, what’s that about? Then he spots me.

The rest of Saturday passes in a blur. A beautiful blur. A happy blur.

Saturday night we went to a ridiculously formal restaurant for a date. We had no idea what they were asking or offering us most of the time due to their thick European accents and use of big, fancy pants words! We could barely decipher the menu. And as for the cutlery … well, there was enough there to start our own military operation!

We settled on pink champagne for an aperitif. Grilled crab legs with olive oil and tomato dressing for starters. Whole lobster and a rather fancy beef fillet. The crab legs were to die for! I have never eaten crab legs in my life. They were magic. I could’ve eaten myself into a stupor with them. The lobster was served complete with a magic show (I kid you not!). And the beef was gorgeous. Only problem was that I could only eat four mouthfuls. Even that was a struggle. Rob ended up having to eat two meals – surf and turf - poor possum! Unfortunately I was not able to keep my four mouthfuls down. 29GBP for a bulimic episode sucks. After a latte and a few mouthfuls of chocolate fondant pudding, all was well with the world again.

We did plan on going for a stroll after dinner but it was titty cold. In a sheer stroke of genuis, I was only wearing a cocktail dress, sans stockings and stilettos; hence grand plans of strolling were aborted! I did have my black wool coat on but when only half your body is clothed, you’re hardly going to stay warm! Therefore, there was a brisk dash to the tube station with me repetitively stating the obvious … “Geez, it’s cold”, “It’s really, really cold”, “I’m so frigging cold!”. Just how many ways can you possibly say the same thing, I ask?!

Rob loves pictures of me when I'm laughing! And although this picture is out of focus you can still see that I no longer have a double chin and you can see my collar bones! I love collar bones!

Sunday was essentially a day dedicated to rugby. We jumped a train to Reading and ended up sitting next to a rather peculiar couple (“Asking him if it’s snowing”). Rob had got us tickets to see London Wasps vs London Irish in a big St Patty’s day (or day after!) match. The weather was on the crisp side when we left home but by the time we got to Reading it started sleeting, raining and blowing a gale. I was not a happy camper. At all. I’m sure Rob would rather have had his balls clamped than contend with my stroppy, so not happy countenance. But once we were in the stadium, the wind was almost non-existent and we were mostly under the stadium cover. The seats we had were fantastic. Rob drank Guinness and a little more Guinness.

And as quickly as it started, the weekend was over. Sigh.

Lost & found

LOST: Bandit Girl’s motivation and enthusiasm to kick arse in banishing “the lard”
Item is of sentimental value. Owner is distraught. If found, please contact Bandit Girl on the on the B-phone. Generous reward offered.

Yup. My clever friends, no doubt you've guessed the reason for the absence. I have had a monumental fall off the wagon … and I'm yet to claw my way back on. In the past, I've had very temporary mishaps with the wagon but have managed to get a leg back on before any serious damage was incurred. So what’s happened lately? I’m not sure. I think it’s been a combination of things. Ever since the overfill and consequent ill health, I developed a fear of eating solid food in case I still had the gastric swelling (I know, I know - 4 weeks is more than enough time for these things to resolve and was a poor attempt at an excuse after the first week!). I was eating a lot of ‘soft’ food – known to bandsters as the ‘soft food’ syndrome. This is to be avoided. Not because it’s detrimental to the band but because you can consume more calories than you actually require due to the consistency of the food or high calorie drinks (milkshakes, juice, lattes etc – which is okay just after a fill but not for extended periods). But after the swelling parlava, I was just plain lazy and unmotivated. In generaly, I have also seemed to have got a bit … okay, very blaze. I’ve lost a lot of weight, I feel good about myself and I’m getting sick of continually having to buy clothes and dragging the old stuff down to Good Sam’s on a crowded bus. Yet, I would love to lost another 10-15kgs. So what’s stopping me from just knuckling down and bloody doing it? Sigh.

Added to the melting pot, has been the uncertainty of where life is taking me at the moment and what I'm doing. All this continual sorting, problem solving and fretting over all the ins and outs that are my life on a daily basis has taken up a lot of my emotional and mental energy, which has left me with very little energy or enthusiasm for the shrinkage thing.

But with a little ground work I am in for a spectacular come back!

The ground work has included:

• a decision to stay in London for the time being until the hospital here gets organized with this supposed position in the Middle East or until Rob and I make further plans (I will be sending in my application for the Highly Skilled Migrant Permit on Monday after finally getting all the evidence together that the Home Office needs – which, may I add, is rather extensive! It’s going to cost me around 800GBP for this application with no guarantee that I’ll even be granted the permit in the end even though I well and truly meet the criteria and points required! Gulp!)
• sorting out and some further nesting in my wee apartment (honestly, it’s no bigger than a shoe box!). I have not changed the duvet cover or linen since I moved in over a year ago (Oi! I have indeed washed the linen and duvet cover just not changed the set of linen or cover I’ve been using!). I felt I needed to have a change. So I splashed out and bought some gorgeous Egyptian cotton sheets (300 thread count – oh my gawd, take my word, quality sheets are the bomb to sleep on!) in oyster, some white pillow slips, a couple of new pillows and a new boudoir cushion. I printed out some new photos for my photo frames. I also bought new incense, can opener, vege peeler and flowers. I carted all my heavy linen (duvet, towels, duvet covers, valance, bath mats ra-de-rah-rah) up to the laundromat for a serviced wash. I cleaned the house within an inch of it’s life. I ventured down to Good Sam’s to do another delivery of unwanted goods. And I changed my duvet cover and made up the bed with the new sheets and pillows – I now have a divine bed in white and caramel/oyster. It’s rather noice! So now the house is uber clean and done to minimum stuff levels. I so love not having clutter! It’s funny but when my living space is clean, organised and uncluttered, I find that I, myself – mentally, physically and emotionally - feel the same way. If my living space is completely chaotic for a long period, I find I become out of sync. Strange but true!
• I have, in my hot little hands, a free registration coupon to join Weight Watchers this coming Tuesday. I know this concept may sound strange … you know, joining WW when I have a band but I really need the support and motivation of other people who are also on a weight loss journey. I realize I may struggle with sticking strictly to the WW eating plan due to my low calorie intake and problems digesting certain foods but just to get back on track. It’s not a long term gig – four to six weeks max.
• I have researched alternative yoga class venues. I was attending Bikram yoga but certain classes are so jammed packed that you can hardly move … so I just wanted some alternative venues to practice yoga of some description.
• I have entered all my regular foods into FitDay so I can keep a record of my calorie intake over the next 4 weeks.
  
  The rest of the plan?:
• I will make a commitment to myself to exercise regularly for 4 weeks (after the 4 week mark it becomes routine)
• Join WW
• Eat three meals a day plus one-two snacks if required
• Plan meals in advance
• Regular weigh in (WW & home scales)
• Track food (FitDay and in notebook)
• Book for a small fill (.4cc in 3-4 weeks time)
• Keep in regular contact with my mate who also has a band – when we stay in contact we seem to be able to move mountains of pounds!
• PREPARATION!

Oh my gawd! Would you look at that! I have just glimpsed the shiny face of my motivation. Right! I’m off to catch it and bottle it!

Have you met Miss Jones?

Weight: holding steady

Jars of nutella consumed in last 4 weeks: pass

Days exercised last week: 0

Clothing in my cupboard that fits: less than 20%

Size of undies bought yesterday: 12 (yeah-huh!)

Amount of money spent on looking gorgeous this week: 140GBP (new undies, brazilian & eyebrow wax and hairdresser .. my credit card has taken objection to my melting body. Thank all that's holy for increased credit card limits and bank overdrafts!)

Work: in status quo (suprised?!)

To do list:

1. End obsession with nutella ... starting tomorrow
2. Exercise (is it all coming back to you now, Bandit Girl?)
3. Wear the fabric outta my new size 12 undies
4. Replace manky head on electric toothbrush
5. Banish ridiculously oversized coat to Good Sam's as it makes me look like a knob head drowning in fabric (I could be a dead ringer for that Jeepers Creepers scarecrow dude)
6. Shave legs
7. Be nice to strangers

Good luck, good luck

One stroke of damn good luck is all I need. And it couldn’t come soon enough to be completely honest. I’ve been hesitant to post as I am fully aware that my last few posts haven’t been the sparkiest I’ve ever banged out … and this one isn’t overly different.

It’s been a tough couple of weeks. Mind you, it hasn’t all been doom and gloom but it’s been one hell of a rough ride.

WORK:
I’ve mentioned work stuff in passing a couple of times since my blog’s inception but never in a terrible lot of depth. But it seems to have become a subject that I’ve mentioned a fair bit of late. I guess the increasingly frequent references to work/gaining employment may give you a subtle hint as to the reason for my ‘life headache’ at present.

Over the past 6 months, Rob and I have been toying with what to do in regards to work and relocation. Our first plan was for him to get a job in Kuwait. I was to join him shortly after he settled into his new job and we’d be happily re-united, never to be parted again. Simple enough plan, huh? You would think so but no. Rob secured a contract with a company in Kuwait. He relocated from Saudi to Kuwait in September of last year. Once we knew he had a job in Kuwait, I started job hunting. I knocked on every imaginable door. I have spent almost 6 months sending emails, making phonecalls, distributing my CV to anyone and everyone who offered to take it with them to Kuwait (patient’s relatives, international PR representatives from my hospital who frequently visited Kuwait), sending faxes, writing proposals, attending meetings and finally, flying to Kuwait personally. All of this has been to pretty much no avail. Sorry, I stand corrected. One hospital in Kuwait made an offer. They were keen to hire me for the grand sum of 1000 USD per month which is peanuts professionally for my experience and, after staying in Kuwait for a week, wouldn’t stretch very far at all. Besides which, the hospital itself looked like an old missionary building. It was falling down, plaster crumbling off the walls, plastic plants covered with inch thick dust and had a generally unkempt feel to it. I shuddered at first glance. I knew I could never work there and certainly wouldn’t be happy going to work each morning.

In June last year, the hospital I currently work for told me they were thinking about setting up a post in the Middle East and felt I would be the most suitable candidate for a number of reasons: a) I had lived in the Middle East previously, b) I worked for and understood how the London hospital operated, c) I speak Arabic, d) I want to be in the Middle East and e) I have a partner who I would be with (as they were concerned about sending a single female into the position). I was told that it was likely to be up and running by the end of the year. It’s now February and the project is still no further than it was back then. Okay that’s not quite true. I have been reassured that it is DEFINITELY going ahead. The logistics and legalities including establishing the parameters of my contract and salary/benefits are supposedly underway. But … it still feels like everything is at a standstill as I have not seen anything in writing.

In the first meeting I had with management at my hospital regarding the position, I was pushing for the position to be based in Kuwait as at the time Rob and I were still set on me joining him there. Management stated they felt the position would be better suited to being set up in the UAE due to the Ministry of Health from the UAE had been in strong favour of the hospital setting up a branch and the Kuwait Ministry of Health was yet to be convinced.

Because of all the to and fro-ing the hospital was doing, Rob and I discussed returning to Saudi together. I contacted a number of recruitment agents and found one that recruited to one of the better hospitals in Riyadh. Within two weeks I had a job interview and a job! Rob then said he would apply to the US military outpost in Riyadh to see if there were any civilian positions he could take up. He too was offered a job quite soon after expressing interest.

So, we then were faced with a dilemma. Do we hang out to see if I’m posted to Kuwait with my hospital or accept the jobs we were offered in Saudi? We had to make a decision BEFORE I visited Kuwait. I knew Rob wasn’t that excited about his current job in Kuwait. I knew the job in Saudi had really piqued his interest. We agreed that Rob would take the job in Saudi (which would benefit his career and training) and I would, with a little good luck and management, take the position that my hospital was proposing in the UAE (as it would help diversify my career and job opportunities plus it would be an exciting challenge). We discussed this being the plan for the next 6 months. There was just one little problem.

The hospital in Saudi was in the process of securing a letter of no objection from my previous hospital (there is a law in Saudi that after you cease a contract for one employer, you are obliged to that employer for two years post end of contract; should you wish to return and work for another employer within that time frame, a letter of no objection/release is required from your previous place of employment. If a letter cannot be obtained, you cannot work for a new employer until after the two year period). I told Rob that I was in knots over what to do. What if the hospital got the letter (which they told me shouldn’t be a problem)? How would I turn down the position when 6 months later I was hoping to go to Saudi? I was torn. I wanted the hospital to get the letter and at the same time I didn’t so I could accept my current hospital’s proposed position without feeling bad. I tell you. Be careful what you wish for. After the trip to Kuwait, I still had not heard anything back regarding how things were progressing with the Saudi thing. I sent an email to the Head of OT to see if she had a handle on what was going on.

It was at this point I became so fed up with my hospital’s promises that I said to Rob that I was just going to go ahead with the Saudi job. But then I got the email that changed everything and has left me feeling completely shattered and aghast. I was told that I letter could not be obtained. Not only that but my previous employer in Saudi had given me an unfavourable reference. WHAT THE? I asked if they had got the right personnel file. It just didn’t make sense. My ceasation of employment with my previous Saudi hospital was amicable. I completed my contract – I was not fired. I had never had any disciplinary action against me. I was given a pay rise. I resigned after a year and rescinded my resignation and was contracted back without issue. And if I had anything to hide, would I have agreed to them checking into my personnel file at my previous Saudi workplace? So, where did this unfavourable reference come from? Well, as far as I can work out, it was generated by the department bully. The Head of Physiotherapy. She never liked me … for a variety of reasons all of them personal, none of them professional. What can you do when someone just doesn’t like you? Not much. But not only did she not like me but she bullied me and harassed me to tears most days. It was the main reason for me leaving and coming to London – before I fell apart and had some type of nervous breakdown. This conniving rat (whom I am so tempted to name) has now influenced a prospective employer’s perspective and opinion of me. It is unlikely the new hospital will hire me even after the two year obligatory period is up based on this reference (which I am yet to find out what exactly was said … I am so angry that my prospective employer knows something about me that not even I do) even though every other workplace reference is favourable (do we not see an inconsistency here?!). I am considering taking legal action against this spineless, nasty, sad human being. I would be able to sue for defamation of character and God help me, if I can’t iron this out myself, I will take her on. No one messes with my professional reputation and livelihood without expecting a fight. I hope this woman’s karma train comes around really soon.

So, the whole work thing remains up in the air. I have been requested to put a salary proposal on the department manager’s desk next Friday and find out the ins/outs of working in the Middle East (visas and setting up a business). I just have to keep my fingers crossed that all this will come together in the very near future. That very near future has only 8 weeks left on it’s working visa! *Gulp*

ROB:
The week in Kuwait with Rob was wonderful but the time went way too quickly. Rob was rather amazed at my recent weight loss and toning. The funniest thing he said to me was, “Your head is so small!”. I’ve lost a lot of weight off my face which makes it (& my head?!) look smaller. He constantly told me how beautiful I was – it meant the world to me. Don’t get me wrong, he has always told me I’m beautiful … but now that I’m losing weight and feeling much better about myself, I’m starting to believe the things he tells me.

I miss Rob. I’m so angry that the option to be with him in Saudi has been taken away from us by the aforementioned prat.

HEALTH:




And as for the weight loss thingy. I put on a kilo while in Kuwait with Rob but in the two weeks I’ve been back I have lost 2.6kgs. This is mainly due to an overtight fill. Yeah-huh. It was super tight. To the point where I was constantly in pain. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t drink (except for 1 ½ glasses of water over a 14 hour period). I couldn’t sleep. When I would try to sleep, it was in a seated position due to reflux and vomitting. I aspirated on some of the contents of my pouch two nights in a row and ended up with a chest infection. The secretions from my chest infection were thick and gluey. I was told to take antibiotics and drink more water to make the secretions more fluid to get them out of my body. Ha! I couldn’t take my antibiotic or loosen up the secretions by drinking more fluids because I was flat out getting a mouthful of water down!

I had 1.2cc removed on Saturday. Which means I had the previous weekend’s fill (1cc) and then some removed. What a waste of cash and time! The doctor was concerned about the state I was in when I arrived at the surgery. He advised me to have the entire contents of my band removed and start from scratch in a week or two. What?! That would mean I would have to build up the amount in the band again and pay for all six fills! Financially, I couldn’t afford to do that. So, as a compromise he took out what he did and advised if things don’t improve I would have to have the band completely emptied, which I agreed with … IF it didn’t improve. He has kindly said he would do the next fill free of charge. Bless him. He’s not the kind of guy to give favours or exceptions either.

I am now feeling 1000% better. I have been drinking water for England. I have been able to get all my tablets including the antibiotic down without incident. I am able to eat again albeit much smaller portions than prior to my fill two weeks ago (even though I have less fluid in my band!). I am able to sleep. And flat out like a lizard too! I have no reflux. No vomiting. My headaches have gone and my chest infection is starting to budge (I think).

***
So, all I need now is a hefty stroke of good luck! Things can only get better from here … surely!

Gravity's got my ta-tas

It's weird.

In my head I KNOW my body has changed significantly over the past 6 months. I mean, for the love of all things holy, I have dropped nearly 20kg. Not something to be sneezed at. But ...

I still have days where I feel yuck and lardy in my own skin. I feel like nothing has changed ... that I am still a hefty 96.4kg. I feel like a huge failure. I feel like my bloody body isn't playing fair. And I revert to previous habits ... like having an intimate knowledge of family size block of chocolate. For shame. Admittedly, these episodes are now very few and far between ... all the same, when it happens it rocks me to the core.

This week has been stressful. My job has been extremely intense and, most unusual for me, I have taken patient problems home with me ... I have found myself laying in the dark mulling stuff over in my head and turning myself into knots. On top of this - or probably because of this! - I have had incredible back and sciatic pain for the last two days (today I sported the uber sexy 'Dick Wicks' magnetic back brace under my work pants ... I felt like a complete freak and had to pee like a pregnant woman all day because the brace was pushing directly onto my bladder!). Because of the back pain and worry ... I haven't slept for two nights. And because of my poorly back and lack of energy, I haven't been to the gym or yoga in two days. I feel rather blah. It's been a bit of a vicious circle really.

On Tuesday, I found myself really struggling with my body image. As I stood in front of the mirror in the yoga studio stretching and pushing my body hard ... instead of appreciating how hard my body was working, I started picking fault with it. All I could see were these lardy tricep wings. Like two doughy loaves of bread hanging down as I got into the warrior position. I glanced around the room and all I saw were lovely sculpted arms. My heart sunk. I then bent forward into the triangle pose to stretch my hamstrings ... and I couldn't help but notice the muscle bunching on my back (due to my scoliosis). It looked repulsive (but which, to be fair, has improved since I started to yoga but will obviously never be completely normal). My heart sunk even further. After class, in the crowded change room, fraught with bras and panties, bare bottoms and bobbing bossoms ... I snuck a peek at my fellow yoga comrades. I envied the pert bottoms, flat stomachs and perky breasts with nipples located where God intended them. It only served to make me feel wretched. My bum is wide but flat. It's starting to get a little roundness going but it's never going to rival J.Lo. My stomach on the other hand, continues to be round ... I know it's shrinking but is it ever going to be flat? Am I ever going to be able to wear a string bikini or tiny g-string without having a roll that prevents the skimpy material from sitting flat on my body? Hey, do you think God made me the wrong way around? You know, flat bum and round tummy ... when it should be the other way?! Bugger. And then there's my boobs. They rival those of an African tribeswoman who has never worn a bra for a day in her life ... mine, however, have been bound and gagged since they appeared and yet they have sagged terribly. I can't even blame the sag on having fed the hungry mouths of babes. Gravity just got hold of my ta-ta's and has steadfastily refused to let go. I would so love to have perky not pendulous breasts. The ever gorgeous Rob has said to me if I feel at the end of the weight loss parlava, I'd like my boobs to be augmented/lifted, he'd cough up. Well baby, you'd better just start saving!

So, in a nut shell (Help! I'm in a nutshell! - Austin Powers) I have had a blah week.