Short Stories: What Makes You Get Up in the Morning?

Everyone talks to themselves in their heads now and then. Don't tell me you never have- I'm onto you.

I'm not talking about full-blown conversations all day every day, or constant internal monologues: I'm talking about those moments when you do something (or don't), and a voice deep in the recesses of your mind- your voice- says something to you like 'oh, stop being so stupid.' Or something of the like. It depends on the situation. You might even mutter it under your breath to yourself.

I tend to find myself doing it most often when I'm exercising. 'Just do another five minutes and you've reached your target.' 'Don't forget to breath, idiot!' 'What are you, some kind of weakling? I said SKIP.' (I use a skipping rope to keep fit; it's a lot more hardcore than it sounds, trust me). This morning, however, I caught myself doing it to get myself out of bed when my alarm went off.

I don't usually have problems getting out of bed- it's getting fully conscious that's the issue- but the previous evening I'd done some calculations and research to find that it'll be quite a lot longer than I thought to get my own place, so I was a bit down because of that; I'd been worrying about a bunch of other things at the same time so I was down about those worries too; I dreamed about three people from my past whom I haven't thought about in a long time and will either probably or definitely never see again, which reminded me that I miss them... and to ice the cake, it was a bloody freezing morning and my bed was all nice and warm. So when the alarm went off, I mashed the off button with my first and lay there in a self-pitying stupor.

'Get up,' my brain instructed.

'No,' I said.

'Now, or you won't get any parking spaces at work,' said my brain.

'No,' I said.

'Quit being pathetic, your problems aren't problems. Get up!'

'No.'

And then my subconscious seemed to remember something crucial about me.

'You have that new apple crumble and custard cereal to try today.'

'Ooh, yum!' I got up straight away.

I could give you several answers to the question 'what makes you get up in the morning?' Apparently, this morning, it was breakfast.

~Fin~

Afterword: Seriously, this cereal has freeze-dried custard in it. Like how an astronaut might eat it. Space. Custard. How cool is that?

Weight Loss: Battling with Yourself and the People Around You

'You've put on weight', said mum, circling me like a trader sizing up a horse at market. 'Your dress looks tigher on you than before.'

Indeed, I had put on two pounds recently, from a lapse in my exercise routine, lack of sleep from insomnia (which every so often I'm plagued by) and, more depressingly, a recent lack of self-control when it comes to grapes and strawberries (which are cruel and sneaky and masquerade as healthy fruit when in fact they pack a load of natural sugar). In fact, I've already lost one of those pounds since laying off those tricksy strawberries and buying a skipping rope to force myself to exercise at home when I'm unable to go to classes after work, and I'm on track to being at the weight I was when I got the dress altered by the end of the week- but of course that's not the sort of thing mums notice. My mum being a Chinese mum (and here I may sound a little controversial), few things I do are ever quite satisfactory. Also, when you're a lot slimmer than you used to be, an extra pound or two can be noticable.

Today, I was making some last-minute alterations to my bridemaid's dress, as one of my best friends (the same one who witnessed the whole incident with the chocolate shop guy in my previous entry) is getting married next week (and I'm the maid of honour, woot! But that's not really part of the story, I'm just bragging). I've lost two stone in a year (which is a lot), and had the dress altered recently to fit my new less wobbly and less chunky figure. It was perfect except the shoulder covers were a bit long, so I tucked and sewed them shorter today. I made the mistake of modelling the finished article in front of my mum (who I thought would be pleased, as she was pleased with how well the dress had been altered to fit my size when I had it done).

'You went to all that trouble to get your dress done, and now you aren't even bothering to watch your weight!' She exclaimed, with the inexplicable glimmer of triumph that my mum always gets when discovering something I've been trying to hide and then ticking me off for it.

Well, that's not really fair- I have been watching my weight. I watch it like a hawk all the time. It's just that recently I've watched it go up a little.

Anyone who's ever loved food and successfully been on a diet will know that losing weight's only one battle: the real war is with maintaining it. I've been very diligent (well, mostly- I underestimated fruit and, alright, maybe stumbled upon a few more cakes than usual). So diligent in fact, that some of my friends have expressed a bit of concern that I might be on a dodgy track: but it's okay, I know my brain works in slightly obsessive ways when it comes to calorie counting and nutrition percentages sometimes, but I can also recognise when I'm being a bit too crazy. However my parents didn't seem to trust me, and of course mum was quite vocal about it.

Flash forward to a couple of months ago.

'Only a small bowl?' Frowned my mum at dinner time, glancing alternately between me and my bowl of stew.

'I bought an extra banana at lunch at work today,' I said, knowing it did sound a bit mad but trying to explain, 'so I have to sacrifice a few calories this evening to balance it out.'

'You have to eat more,' scolded mum, 'you're becoming anorexic!'

There. That word was finally mentioned.

I was not, have never been and will never be anorexic. I simply love food too much, and believe you or me, when I'm calorie counting I get the most out of every single calorie. However quite a few times I've been ticked off for not eating enough, despite the fact by this stage I was reaching my optimal weight and was now losing weight more and more slowly.

Flash forward to this afternoon.

'You haven't been eating the right things,' continued mum, whilst I seethed about how someone could tell me off at one moment for turning into an anorexic, and at the next moment for not watching my weight enough. 'Like those three puddings you bought for yourself two weeks ago.'

'What, the WeightWatchers ones?' I exclaimed incredulously.

She's right of course, just not in the way she thinks. It's not always what you eat, but how and when and of course, how much of it you eat. I thought I was being healthy and appeasing my parents at the same time by increasing my food intake a bit, but in the end I misjudged and I wasn't doing anyone any favours: especially not me.

So now I'm back on the straight in narrow, and just in time for my friend's wedding!