Introducing: Colleen

There's someone I want you guys to meet. Her name's Colleen.

She's really nice, and she's smart, and funny. She's cute, too. She has a great dog, whose name is Simon. She likes football and wine and most of the food I cook. She's good at crossword puzzles and she makes the best popcorn I've ever eaten.

She's 34, and a little bit taller than me (but just a little bit). She has short brown hair that sometimes looks auburn, and hazel-blue eyes that sometimes look grey. She looks great in polo shirts and pretty much any kind of sweater. She has two pairs of Fluevogs. Her smile goes up a little more on one side than the other, and when she's distracted she winds her fingers through a bit of hair on the side of her head.

She likes some really good music and some really bad music and some surprisingly soft-cock cardigan music. She has the travel bug almost as much as I do. She swears like a sailor, or at least like an Australian. Oh, and she's a lawyer.

Actually, she's The Lawyer. You've met her before. But because she's now also My Girlfriend, I thought I'd better give her a real name.

You guys, I'm... it's pretty fucking great.

XOXO

Tiny Triumphs

So you'll all know by now that I've been working to lose weight for a while. It's now been a year since I started, and I'm celebrating my anniversary with a new accomplishment: I am right this second wearing a brand-new pair of size 6 jeans.

Size 6, people. 6.

To be fair, I'll note that these are size 6 'Curvy' jeans from the Gap, which means I'd be an 8 in anything else. But when I left Australia I was struggling into a size 10 of these jeans, and when I started losing weight I had got all the way up to a size 14 - they was a bit big for me, true, but the 12s were too small so I wasn't far off.

I don't know how much weight I've lost. I never, ever look at scales because I worked out a long time ago that the numbers only upset me - in my head, I'm a 43 kg Japanese teenager and anything that contradicts that makes me cry - so I go by my clothes. I'm at least a size smaller now than I was at my previous smallest, which was back in 2004 after my IBS was at its worst and my weight crashed down because I didn't eat for two or three months (funny how that works), but I'm not sure what that equates to. I've looked at some websites to try to work out how much weight lost equals a size lost; the consensus seems to be that the smaller you are, the less weight you need to drop to lose a size, and for small girls 8-10 lbs (3.5-4.5 kg) will bring you down a size. I reckon it would have been more for me, certainly at the start; but I think it'd be safe to say I've lost 20-25 kg.

I'm still a big girl. I don't think I ever won't be. I have too much thigh for my size, and no matter how much weight I lose it seems that that will always be the case. (According to a maternity/pedi nurse I work with, the only time women really lose weight off their thighs is when they breastfeed. Not worth it, but thanks for the information.) And I have a big ass, and tits that enter a room about 15 minutes before the rest of me, and while they're both a bit more proportionate to the rest of me now I'm never going to be without them unless I undergo an extensive series of liposuctions.

But the weird thing is that I keep catching myself in mirrors and not recognising my body. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I swear it's true: I'll be in the locker room at the gym and I'll see a reflection out of the corner of my eye, and I will have to look again to realise that it's me. I look at the clothes I can wear now and I can't believe I can fit into anything that size. I still feel way bigger than I actually am, and I don't know what to do about that. And I'm worried that I'll get really big again, because it's so fucking easy for that to happen. I hope that the changes that I've made will stick, but I could undo all of this work in a couple of bad months, and that's scary.

For now, though, I'm feeling good. I have very few clothes that fit me well, which is annoying, and I don't have money to replace them, which is even more annoying, but apart from that I'm fucking thrilled. My original goal was to lose the size and a half I put on when I moved home; I then changed it to lose another size after that, to bring me down to an 8, so that I was into single-digit sizes for the first time ever; but then I wanted to come down to a 6 in the jeans so I'd be an 8 in everything else. I'm here now, and I think I'm okay with staying here... for now. My next goal is to complete the American Lung Association Stair Climb in February: 41 stories, 82 flights, 789 steps. It sounds like a goddamn nightmare, but I wanted something to train for; I can't run or cycle because they both fuck my back, and I already know I can walk for ages without a problem, so I needed something else and this seemed like a good place to start. It means doing a lot of stairclimbing cardio and endurance work at the gym, and I'm hoping that even if it doesn't help me lose more weight/inches off my thighs, it might at least help me build up more muscle there so I look more toned - which would be a nice thing to have in place for the weekend after the Stair Climb, when I'll be flying down to sunny Florida to try to catch a bit of sun... oh, and to meet The Lawyer's family.

So yes, some things are changing.

XOXO

Works in Progress

I've been working on a big post for a couple of weeks, but because work and Other Things are keeping me quite busy at the moment it's blowing out into a project with no clear end in site, so I've decided to put up a little something in the meantime.

Thanksgiving was last Thursday, and I missed you guys a lot. As nice as it is to have it with my family (and not to have to cook two bloody turkeys and my weight in stuffing), it will never be as fun as it is in Sydney. The warm weather, the franticness (franticity?), the running all over Erskineville with half-cooked birds because my oven died in the ass... they were fucking good times.

Anyway, a couple of people e-mailed me saying that at this time of year they missed my pumpkin pie. I figured that this at least is something I could provide from the other side of the world, so long as you-all promise not to miss me any less because you can make it without me. :)


XOXO

Best Pumpkin Pie
(Cook’s Illustrated)

2 cups (16 oz/4.4 kg) butternut pumpkin puree*
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
2 teaspoons ground ginger
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon fresh grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup double cream
2/3 cup milk
4 large eggs

Preheat oven to 400˚F (205˚C). Blind-bake pie crust in pie pan for 5-10 minutes or until just a touch golden.

Process first 7 ingredients in a food processor fitted with steel blade for 1 minute.

Transfer pumpkin mixture to a 3-quart heavy-bottomed saucepan; bring it to a sputtering simmer over medium-high heat. Cook pumpkin, stirring constantly, until thick and shiny, about 5 minutes.

When crust is done, whisk heavy cream and milk into pumpkin and bring to a bare simmer. Process eggs in food processor until whites and yolks are mixed (about 5 seconds). With motor running, slowly pour about half of hot pumpkin mixture through feed tube. Stop machine and scrape in remaining pumpkin. Process 30 seconds longer.

Immediately pour warm filling into hot pie shell. (Ladle any excess filling into pie after it has baked for 5 minutes or so — by this time filling will have settled.) Bake until filling is puffed, dry-looking, and lightly cracked around edges, and center wiggles like gelatin when pie is gently shaken, about 25 minutes. Cool on a wire rack for at least 1 hour, and serve with homemade whipped cream (not ice cream - it doesn't seem to work well).

*To make butternut puree:
Peel and cube fresh butternut. Boil in lightly-salted water until soft but not breaking down. Drain off water, then mash or blend pumpkin until very smooth (it should look like baby food). Do NOT add any additional salt or other ingredients, as that will stuff up the rest of the recipe.

An Unhoped-for Return to Form

Or: Our Heroine Regards Her Intestines Once More.

As you might have guessed from the titles, I am in a bit rough shape at the moment. The ol' IBS has resurrected itself from the bowels of, well, my bowels, and let me tell you, I hadn't realised how much I hadn't missed it until it came back.

I think now that it started while I was in Barcelona: right when I got back I had some digestive unpleasantness for several days, and I had thought it was food poisoning. It cleared up eventually, but then a few weeks ago I overindulged slightly on awesome cocktails at Drink and ended up very sick indeed; then a few days later I was sick again after a totally reasonable amount of wine; and then this past Sunday night I was sick AGAIN after feeling off all weekend and avoiding alcohol altogether... and now I'm finally connecting the dots. The painful, bloated, vomit-covered dots.

I had a bit of a cry last night at my mom because I was - and am - scared that this will be as bad as and last as long as the first time. The first time that lasted months and months, and was painful and embarrassing and limiting, and meant that I didn't feel comfortable leaving the house for any period of time in case Something Happened. I can't bear the thought of my already limited social life suddenly crashing down that much more.

But after a lovely Halloween with my family, Caitlin's family, and Colleen and her awesome dog Simon, followed by a good night's rest, I woke up this morning feeling heaps better about everything. I know what's wrong with me; I know it's not going to do me lasting damage; I know how to deal with it. It might take a few weeks or even longer to settle down fully, but that's okay. I'll drink lots of peppermint tea, and avoid anything carbonated or alcoholic. I'll eat very carefully and in small amounts. I'll restrict myself to soup and chicken and pureed fruit, all with minimal preservatives. I'll be on the three-bite rule: whenever I feel I can, I'll eat three bites of something I know is safe. I'm aiming for once an hour so long as I feel well, and today it seems to be working: so far I've had two 3-bites of a bread roll and three 3-bites of applesauce, and while it's not what you'd call satisfying, I also don't have much of an appetite so it's okay. In fact, that becomes one of the hardest things to deal with: when I feel like this, I don't want to eat and I'm often afraid to eat, and not eating anything only makes it worse - and then when I do feel well, I eat too much and it makes it worse all over again. But three bites? I can usually manage three bites, even when I don't feel great; and I know that I shouldn't have more than that right now, so I won't overdo it.

So that's that, for now. It's an overshare, and I wish it were better news, but... well, it feels good to talk about it and have my plan written down, so you're all helping me with that. :)


XOXO

Another two fucking months?!

I clearly don't understand how time works. That's the only excuse I can come up with.

Thanks to everyone who sent birthday wishes! Spain was awesome, and I would recommend Barcelona as a birthday destination to anyone. The weather was spectacular, the food defies description, and the architecture would break your heart. I'm planning a return trip very soon.

I also had a pre- and post-birthday presents in the forms of Paul's visit at the start of September and Rob and Irena's visit at the end. My friends are besotted with my Australian guests, and I strongly encourage you all to keep coming and besotting them.

Apart from all of the excitement, things here are going... well, they're going. I'm still really struggling to find my niche. It's bloody hard trying to settle into a new life at this age and by myself. I actually think it would have been easier if I'd gone somewhere entirely new, because it's really easy to be complacent here when I know the city so well. It wouldn't have been at all feasible, of course - I needed the material support that people in Boston could offer me - but it's deceptively hard because I feel like it should have been easier to settle back into somewhere I know, when in fact I've lived my entire adult life elsewhere and I don't have the slightest idea how anything works, but I also don't have any obvious markers of foreign-ness so people expect me to get it. It's... I don't know. It's not easy.

On the other hand, though, I'm really trying not to dwell too much on this stuff. It's hard, as I have a dwelling-oriented brain and not nearly enough to occupy/distract it at the moment, but I'm trying to do some power-of-positive-thinking things. Like, I've decided to allow myself to spend up to $15/week on nice, (usually) tropical flowers for the house. They make me happy, and happy is worth $15. And I'm trying to find something beautiful in every situation - like, actively looking for it. Right now I'm at my desk at work, so there's not much immediately in front of me (except a bottle of mannequin lubricant, which is... I mean, I have the *most* ridiculous job), but I'm able to find something in most places, and that seems to help. I at least feel like I'm trying, so that's good.

Things with The Lawyer are officially off again. It's... guys, it's rough, I'm not going to lie. Paul met her, and Rob and Irena met both her and The Chef; the verdict is that she's great (true), and The Chef is great (true), and... and I need to meet someone who is neither of them, because both situations are fundamentally busted (entirely, completely, 100% true).

I think a big part of this is that I need to meet new people full stop - I need to broaden my friend base - but it is bloody hard to do that at this age and in this situation. I've met a couple of people I like at work, but no one I want to pursue as an Outside Friend; and I love my belly dancing crew but most of them live outside of Boston (well outside) and aren't really viable options. If I were the sort of person who liked playing sports or going to bars to socialise with people I don't know? I'd be golden. However, I am neither of those people and I like neither of those things - in fact, both send waves of panic through me. So... seriously, what else? Please, suggestions. I need to find a way in.


XOXO

I manage a good one from time to time.

While going back through some old e-mails from this time last year, I found this:

Inner Sydney lesbians are mostly cute but frequently horrible people; suburban Sydney lesbians are mostly hideous and frequently redneck-y; everyone in Melbourne dresses like extras from a French movie but they really commit so it works; the rest of the country is a mystery to us all.

Still as true today as it was then.


XOXO

Don't call it a comeback.

Is it fucking possible that I haven't posted here since April?

I'm serious. I mean, obviously it's possible. In fact, it's a fact. But I don't understand how it happened. Where the hell did FOUR MONTHS go?

I guess there's no point in worrying about it. I mean, there were reasons: Dad had some health issues that got very in the way, and while those are (thank god) now much, much improved, there was an extended period of pure hectic mess. It resolved just in time for work to go batshit crazy, and that only wrapped up about a week ago. In the meantime, I have also had protracted negotiations with The Chef (ended stuff with me to go back to her ex, then a couple of months later ended it with the ex and tried to come back to me... we're now awesome friends, but it was touch-and-go for a while) and The Lawyer (I have no fucking idea, except that she broke up with her gf about a month ago and also we're going to Spain together in a few weeks), because why the hell not, right? There has also been some belly dancing, and Boston eventually decided to let us have some decent fucking weather that approximated an actual summer, after the longest, coldest, snowiest winter and longest, coldest, wettest spring in living memory. Oh, and my Flattie Karen's dog is possibly the worst. Like, really the worst. Of anything, ever. So, you know, there's been a thing or two.

But the worst of it seems to be behind me now [screams and flails wildly, trying to find wood to knock on]. I just spent a couple of lovely days on Cape Cod (Boston:Melbourne :: Cape Cod:Mornington Peninsula), and feel relaxed for the first time in... oh, christ knows. I've got a couple of quieter weeks at work before things get hectic again, so that's a nice opportunity to prepare and get on top of it all. And I have some awesome things to look forward to in the next six weeks: Paul (a.k.a. 'Boyfriend Paul') is coming for a visit next week, which looks like it will include my first-ever Sox-Yankees game; I'll be in Spain 14-21 September, which eagle-eyed readers will note includes my birthday (17 September, this year on a Saturday, this year in Barcelona, this year a fucking good one come hell or high water); and Rob and Irena are visiting right after I get back!

I'm excited, y'all. And I've missed you.


XOXO