Friday, April 08, 2005

great expectations

It's not that I don't love my parents. I do, and for the past few years I've been getting on much better with them than I used to. I speak to my mum on the phone 2 or 3 times a week, I see them once a month or so, I fix their computer and raise no. 1 grandson. Things are good between us, but there's still stuff I chose not to tell them. Particularly stuff that's about things that have been big issues between us in the past. Two of the biggest have been my weight and my fecking up at university (having been chucked off my chemistry course for doing feck all work and failing my exams twice).

So I decided not to tell my parents that I was going to WW, or that I'd started a science course with the OU. Although things are better now, and I know they wouldn't go on about things the way the used to, I just didn't want the weight of their expectation on me. Probably more in my own head than in theirs, but it would get to me. It's kind of like what Marla was talking about - not wanting to do what you're 'supposed' to do, not conforming to all those expectations. The Bard of Barking wrote:
Love is just a moment of giving
And marriage is when we admit our parents were right

Going to WW and finishing my degree, that feels a lot like admitting my parents were like. I know I should grow up and get over it but I still don't like it.

Imagine how pleased I was to find out that when my mum rang the other night, R told her I was out at WW and went on to tell her about my course. OK so I should've told him I wasn't telling them but you'd think he'd've noticed that I never mention this stuff to them. Bah. Next time his mother phones on a Wednesday night, I'll tell her he's out at one of his regular revolutionary anarchist meetings and see how he likes it.

D*et news: eating not been so good the past couple of days and I'm way over my points . And I have less points now - dropping below 17 stone means I lose a point off my daily allowance boo. We're going out tonight, there will be wine and (some) food, but I'm going to eat a sensible meal at home first.

Couple of NSVs today. Bumped into an acquaintance while wearing my new cheapo, snug-fitting-for-now, bike jacket and he said how fit I was looking. The belt I bought last year, I can now comfortably do up 4 notches smaller than when I first got it. My shape is improving even if my weight is taking longer. I should probably track proper measurements but I am allergic to tape measures.

1 comment:

M@rla said...

I can't find any good way to measure progress. If the scale says i'm up, the tape measure says I'm down. The pants will fit, the blouse won't. Feckity feck!