Today, I can only offer you small bits and pieces of woe since I am ill, which is both wretched and dull.

1. Morose Frog Baby wants you to know that he also knows suffering:




2. George the Cat padded into the house from the garden, carrying a largish dead bird by its head all 'Look at what I have brought for you Human Woman! It will look lovely on your bedspread.'

I screamed, and he panicked and fled with it from whence he came.
I'm sorry George! I appreciate the thought, even though I find it disguisting.

3.
Poll #1377980 'Health Reasons'
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 29

If upon spying the midriff you bared in the sunshine, your husband suggests with loving conern that you may want to lose weight for 'health reasons' the correct response is

Gok Wan doesn't empower me. He doesn't build my sense of self-esteem.

You know what did though? Good goddamn sex done by good lovers whose touch on my skin made me tremble all over, whose kisses on my neck and stomach and thigh talked about how beautiful they found me. Being seen and celebrated for exactly who I was was immensely empowering in a way that being bound and stuffed and brushed and polished into some illusory version of that never could be.

Women feel depressed because we are constantly presented with a gulf between who we are and who we are told we have to be in order to be praised and the whole thing is so insidious and toxic that it makes me curl my lip in disdain. I sneer at you hypocritical beauty standards and your peddlers!

You know what else I enjoyed? Eating cake and licking whipped cream off my fingers and donning silky underthings that hugged my curves. Locking my jiggly bits into the Spandex love-child of a corset/those slimming-aid plastic pants did not feature in any of that.

You know what I would consider a celebration of women?

Mainstream clothing manufacturers creating garments that allow for bus and booty and encase them lovingly in fetching tops and well-cut trousers that don't force you to make choices about whether you'd prefer something that fits your waist or your hips. (To say nothing of course of equal pay, access to good but affordable childcare and generous maternity and dependency leave pay/allowances)

Also media articles about body truth that aren't merely obsequious loads of hypocritical bollocks - paying lip service to the concept of 'real normal bodies' while illustrating this with bodies that fit the body ideal in terms of shape and size.

I am not stupid and I deplore being made to feel stupid by the obvious contradiction of being told to 'feel good about your body/ your body is appealing' while only being shown pictures of people who are a size 12 at the heaviest range of the spectrum. This isn't about accepting yourself or being valued. It's merely about AGAIN being told how to dress and how to look to be accepted.

Because the sentence 'You Would Be So Pretty If' will never, in any world, be healing.

Conversations with grandmother:

G: You know, you still look very fat.
N: This may be the wrong conversation to be having when you're relying on me for care and sustenance.
G: It's not your fault, all your Georgian relatives are fat.
[pause]
G: It's your hips and thighs. They're huge. All the Georgians have huge thighs. Legs like tree trunks. It's very ugly. You should wear long things that hide your body.
[another pause]
G: Me on the other hand, when I was young I had great legs. And beautiful blonde hair. And lovely blue eyes. And no glasses.
[looks at the Lemsip I'm mixing]
G: No no! Give me only half a mug of that thing.
N: {keeps mixing] Whoever claims I'm fat gets a full mug.
G: I'm only saying all of this to help you.
N: Please help me by not helping.

( I have shrunk )

I suppose it is a good thing that I'm easily amused.

And to fill the hole in my life where all my accidents used to be I have managed to slip on some wet leaves and do some damage to my wrist and the muscles of my inner thigh.
However, not being one to allow physical injury to stand in the way of a good time, I'm joining today's Tube Walk

On another note,

This year sparktastic has the most fantastic excuse for skyving NaNoWriMo by being in Australia and New Zealand for the whole month and I for one shall be channelling my jealousy into Art.

So, as for the rest of you - who is with me?
The only sure way to find out seems to flaunt my poll-making capacities.

Poll #366971 NaNoooooooo
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 3

Will you be doing NaNo this year?

Do you have a plot?

My novel will be set in ______ and about _______

The colour of Tuesday mornings is cornflower blue, shot through in places by threads of silver and ultramarine.

I'm back in that particular place of not liking my body and not wanting to eat.

On good days I can see my body as a whole. I can see that yes, I am curvy but I am well proportioned- my body is not deformed, it flows nicely and while it may not be put together according to the beauty ideal I like it. Which doesn't mean there are things I wouldn't change but on the whole I feel at peace.

On bad days I see body in terms of its parts and I look grotesque, I feel fat and huge.

And I've realised I'm starting to go back to the place of not wanting to eat. Of not being able to face the thought of cooking food, of having to chew on things.

It's been happening a while where the things I normally really like eating such as cheese feel too heavy and I have an urge to consume only fruit and water.

Soups are okay. Because soups don't feel like eating.

Eating for me is complex and multi-layered. I was a huge binge eater in my late teens but I let go of that when I went to University and there was no longer anyone who wanted to ban me from eating or monitor my food intake. To comment on the calorific value of the things in my plate and lecture on cholesterol and unattractiveness.

My diet is pretty good on the whole. Because of the PCOS and the insulin intolerance and raised blood glucose I watch what I eat because I do not want to get diabetes. That's a very strong motivating factor for me, something that I don't want to manifest so much that it's made me turn in the other direction- of not eating (because I'd sooner have my blood sugar be too low than too high).

There is a strong correlation between my moods and my desire (or lack thereof) to eat. When I'm happy then I'm hungry and I love food. But when I feel more down, more subdued then I don't want to eat. As though not eating would make my body feel gentler, purer - fill it with light and air.

Food tastes grey or muddy dark red. It tastes like mist and sadness and wrath.

When I was spending weekend with mate he kept commenting on how little I eat. I don't think I eat little. I think he eats a lot.

I think of myself as a glutton, I have this perception that I am eating all the time and it kind of suprises me when i notice that I am losing weight. I think I may have gone down another clothing size or am well on that route.

I feel horrible when I eat. And on days like today, when it feels like all I've done is eat I really hate it. I wasn't even hungry. More nervous and unhappy and bored and eating just seemed like a good idea at the time. Because I feel almost constantly queasy nowadays, and the taste of food helps mask that for a while.

Three slices of cheese. Three slices of bread one of them with butter. A piece of fatty fish. Three fruit yoghurts. Two biscuits. I just see it as this mound of sugar and calories and carbs looming large and threatening in my brain. I don't know how much said articles of food have calories but it's about twice as much as I felt comfortable eating.

Food feels really bad.
For once this is not so much about fat as the fact that in my head food seems bad.
And that eating makes me a bad person somehow.
That I am wrong for doing it.

Without food my body feels calmer, cleaner, purer. Less weighed down with stuff and itself.

I'm remembering a lot and some of it is difficult processing. How food was used to shut me up and as a manipulative emotional tool by my grandmother. To show love and hierarchy. The food chain. Those she loved got the best pieces of what she cooked. Those she didn't love got the scraps.

I remember a time when my grandmother pounced on the piece of meat on my mother's plate and snatched it from her shouting: *Witch! You took the best piece for yourself!* as though this was a crime, even if it were true. I remember my father walked away from the table. But I didn't. I just ate what was there.

I remember when I was twelve and first came to live with my aunt who decided I was too fat and put me on strictly rationed portioned out food. One slice of marble cake or two slices of french bread with ham for breakfast. At each communal mealtime a portion allocated to everybody in accordance to how thin or fat they were.

I remember eating secretly for years, from the age of about 12 to 17 and how dirty it made me feel but how I also didn't stop it. It was something hidden and shameful and helplessly alluring, like masturbation. To feel good was to be bad. And I ate, hid food and ate as though I was seeking something intangible or trying to fill some great void inside myself.

Most of the times when I eat, it feels as though it is not food but some pollutant I am ingesting.

Hatred and fear and secrets and lies.

Technically I wished everyone happiness in the Orthodox New Year a day early. Ooops.

I'm having a fabulous time whose only downside is the not getting enough sleep and possibly eating way too much.

Yesterday we had some friends over for dinner, and then Nik, Marja and I went over to the Temple of St. Sava to watch the fireworks because we had been led to believe there would be some there. Nik, who enjoys being manly and taking charge of things found us a spot near one of the smaller buildings by the temple, giving us a beautiful view of the thronged masses.

People were throwing little things I shall term firesticks, they are small and brown, like tiny twigs, you light them like a match and then you chuck them. As far as I can discern thier chief attraction lies in the fact they explode and cause havoc and dissaray. People were being quite liberal with the firesticks so Nik, Marja and I were doing the *huddled grazing zebra intermittently looking out for danger* impressions.

As far as fireworks, the thing we had come to see, at first the state of affairs did not appear promising. Intermittently some sad ejaculate like a singe firefly would shoot up into the atmoshphere and fizzle out there, in a way that would have been anti-climactic except that the whole thing was pretty unexciting to begin with. It made a decent noise though and was largely reminiscent of our weapons against air attack, as though some phantom plane was circling the temple gettng half-heartedly fended off by the Orthodox revellers.

It would have been, techincially speaking, a fairly shit spectacle except I was there with two people I loved, and I was getting hugged, we were holding hands, and seeing whethere the firesparks were going to set any of the trees alight gave us entertainment for a good few minutes.

THen the bells of the Church began to ring (we ordered them from Austria might as well get some use out of them), and kept at it, building towards a slow crescendo, and the NEw Year in all its splendour snuck in from the back and caught us by surprise. These absolutely marvellous fireworks began right behind us. They were obscenely beautiful, and a marvellously pleasant surprise, like discovering those ugly nickknacks you inherited from great-aunt Mavis are worth loads of money on e-bay.

We ooooh'd and we Aaaaaah'd and made all the usual noises of gratified mortals, watching sparks of colour whizz and shimmer and burst in the sky like rain and falling stars and giant dandelion clocks and a wonderful time was had by all.

Usually I am nervous around fireworks but I think I wasn't here becuase I was in a safe and familiar place, within walking distance of my house and I was with beloved and trusted people so it did not occur to me to have anything beyond a good time, and when I came home I was too exhausted for nightmares.

Today cool people picked me up and drove me to thier house and fed me there, and then dropped me back into town again, where Dee and I went to a concert of *religious and traditional folk music* (she had free tickets for it, her mother was in the choir) and afterwards went to the post-concert bash hosted at a local resturant where I improvised my way through Orthodox customs and meetings with the clergy, drank some surprisingly decent wine and ate more than wisdom dictated (and consoled my guilty conscience by walking home).

It was all very fun, my mate and I had a great time and the walkback through the city was pleasant. Old Beglrade is architecturally beautiful, and tastefully lit up by the Christmas/New Year decorations.

My family are enraptured with my weight loss and have been waxing lyrical about it for two days. My mother contents herself with commentary like *you have cheekbones!* and *you are gorgeous now, please never gain weight again*, while my grandmother as always, prefers the more tactful approach.
*You know,* (she said) *you're actually pretty now, and when you were fatter you didn't used to be. Before, when people used to tell you you were pretty I just nodded my head because I didn't want to hurt your feelings but really you were rather unattractive. But now, for the first time, you look good. Your face is slimmer and your ass is not so big.*

It's bittersweet.

According to the practice nurse, I have shrunk 2 cm and gained 10 pounds. my BMI is probably going up through the roof. at this rate, i will be obese soon. woo hooo.

although i am a tad suspicious about some of those numbers (weight is probably right, my metabolism has been fucked about with and i've got a period) but I am outraged at having shrunk. especially since when i was getting emasured a few weeks ago in yugoslavia i was 173 cm tall.

hmmmm.

i am fuming. i may not ask for much in my life but I would like those centimentrs back now please. i feel quite cheated.

livemeat's belief that maths is pants is appealing to me more and more every day. ;)

last night i went to my third mother's for affection and feeding. my first mother is the one whom i belong to biologically. the second one was Ivana, the woman who I lived with in HOlland for a while and who did look after me like her own child. My third mother is B, she is a recent addition mostly because she is childless and i really like her and have been looking for someoen to adopt me for a few years now.

(although I also have a spiritual mother though she hasnt been saddled with looking after me yet ;) )

B is a cool woman. She is a Yug, but she is quite liberal and very relaxed. she is a therapist who works with troubled children and refugees. i am neither exactly, but apparently i am easy to look after and she likes having me around. i like being around her as she is very nurturing wihtout being possessive or obsessive. and since I really wasnt looking after myself getting someone else to do it for a little bit was a good idea.

also because at her house there was a kitten :D not her kitten, B and the kitten are in a state of disagreement regarding the wrongfulness of eating of plants and jumping around on the kitchen surfaces and so on, she is just looking after it for a few weeks until the owners get back.

the kitten is adorable though :D really, more of an adolescent cat i suppose, but cute and smart and silky soft. a very clever and inventive cat as can be clearly seen from its vengeful and malicious streak.

the kitten and i also had a disagreement early on about scratching and biting that was resolved fairly well with *you scractch or bite me and i will thwack you on the head*. the kitten has quite a character, it is also bouncy and way full of energy. it seems to have just discovered jumping and from time to time it will take off and run around the house. (also attempt to leap onto every single surface it can reach. including hanging from my trouser leg)

the little bastard is very cute even though he did chew through the wire and amputate one of the earphones from my cd player.

He purrs like a tractor. Seriously. I have never heard such a loud purr from such a small cat. (somewhat akin to tiny human babies belching like truckers post meal. it was cool because i was feeling all piney without a cat and i got him to play with for a night.

He slept with me for most of the night. The first couple of times he gave me a start because there was this little thing dropping on me in the pitch black like a ton of bricks. He'd walk around for a while, try to sit on my shoulder or my hip, attempt to eat my hair and eventually curl up around my neck or some other body part. and purr. and purr. and purrr.

it was loooooooooooovely.

my stomach and lower back were both seriously hurting last night but the kitten tended to curl up near a painful area and the pain would go away. i've noticed this with fiendly animals. they radiate a lovely warm energy, and will often seek out and plant themselves wherever the source of pain/weakness is and feed me sweet helpful vibes.

i felt so loved up in the morning that it reduced the prolonged trauma of travelling by the underground at rush hour, compounded by the horror of travelling anywhere on the northern line and the shock of having gotten shorter and fatter.

yaaargggh.