Month: March 2021

What, Will These Floors Ne’er Be Clean?

/ anthropoidinterrupted / Leave a comment

For the last year or so I’ve lived on my own. My first place by myself, properly, ever. Proper grown-up stuff (or just a way that I can eat crisps for dinner without anyone knowing). In my new abode, which I am ridiculously happy with, there is one problem. Cream carpets. Everywhere.  Evidently the landlord thought that they would add to the open plan airiness of the place. I do not disagree. However, I have never been a floor person. Or maybe, I’ve been a floor person so long that I no longer want to be a floor person. Now before you think I’m just being self-deprecating again (I am so good at that) what I am referring to is cleaning floors. And perhaps the reason I take little to no enjoyment in cleaning floors, apart from that vague sense of accomplishment that cleaning a surface area can bring, is because I have cleaned a lot of floors in my time. Working in kitchens and cafés for years, cleaning floors becomes an often monotonous and sometimes gruelling task. The thought of doing the whole floor at the end of the shift after having already done it at the start of the shift and somewhat during the shift, every day, for years and years, is enough to make a person yearn for the world of Universal Credit (joke obviously, no one wants Universal Credit). As a teenager it was one of my chores to hoover before my parents came home from work. And so I associate cleaning floors with hard work and being sad, and I have just cleaned so many of the damned things already I feel like, at 34, I have already done my time. I would say some of my ex-housemates would probably agree (I’m sorry guys, I did other boring chores, and the floor, when you made me).

So now back to the cream carpets, and what they have to do with exercise. There is a lot of different data out there in relation to the effectiveness of housework as a form of exercise. According to this random Good Housekeeping article from 2016 hoovering for half an hour can burn roughly 96 calories. That’s hardly shocking, although perhaps the number seems disappointingly low, as anyone who’s ever hoovered a whole house will tell you it’s bloody hard work. And I would say there aren’t many women who haven’t made themselves feel better about their lack of exercise by saying ‘well, I did hoover the stairs today.’ I have a fitness app on my phone that I update every time I even slightly move. Hoovering is definitely going on there.

So now that I have these clean, cream carpets, I am having to hoover a lot more than I ever have or cared to. Not only is this my first place by myself and so I want to take a certain pride/I can’t blame it on a random housemate now, it also drives me insane how dirty it looks so quickly. And because it’s quite a thin carpet, tiny pieces of dirt get constantly embedded by footfall into reasonably snug crevices that the hoover will not lift. When I originally viewed this house the previous tenant asked me to remove my shoes before I was allowed in, which at the time I assumed was just the habit of a neurotic clean freak. On moving day, again this lady, who happened to be rather skinny too, apologised to me about the state of the carpets, and told me she had deep cleaned them several times but they were impossible. At this stage I was inwardly rolling my eyes and thinking this lady had a problem. Calm down about the friggin’ carpet man, I thought, feeling superior and chill.

Now I know what she was going through. Now I understand the constant need to apologise and explain why the carpet never looks good, because no matter how many times I hoover it, within minutes it somehow looks unclean again. Now on any given afternoon you could find me crawling around the edges of the room, using the special attachments that come with the hoover that you never usually bother with, crying ‘out damned spot! Out I say!’ at the dust that has accumulated by the sideboards that seems to be changing the carpet from cream-coloured to grey no matter what I do. Now I know why the last tenant was so carpet orientated. And possibly why she was so thin.

Chest Infections, Shame and Well-Being

/ anthropoidinterrupted / Leave a comment

It’s a bank holiday Monday and I am lying on the sofa, which I’ve done a lot of this weekend. I’m on my second course of antibiotics for a chest infection that just won’t shift. Despite that I don’t feel too bad and this last week I’ve tried to be more active and eat better. But after a call from the Doctor on Friday to say that a chest x-ray showed a lower respiratory infection, I’ve been trying to take it easy. I know you’re not supposed to do exercise when you have a bad chest but I’m getting really fed up with having a bad chest. I can’t get over the guilt of being in the house all day and not doing kettlebells.

There is literally not one woman I know who has not expressed dissatisfaction over her weight at some point, if not over and over again. It is perfectly acceptable, if not even weirdly encouraged, for people to be disparaging about themselves and how they look. While it has become taboo to openly criticise and discriminate against other people because of their weight, and fat-shaming is now a well known expression in our society, it is still fine to do it to yourself. In fact it seems almost polite to do so in certain circumstances. You pay your friend a compliment and tell her she looks great in her new dress, and more often than not she will respond with something like ‘oh no, my belly looks massive in it!’ ‘but my thighs!’ or something to that effect. I’ve done this myself many, many times, but now I actively try not to do it. I try to just say ‘thanks.’ I’m not sure why we feel the need to put ourselves down. Whether it’s some misguided attempt at humility, because beauty standards are so high that average, attractive people truly feel like ugly monsters, or if it’s simply something we’ve learned from our mothers, and from mainstream media, who make it their business to criticise physical appearances (the media, not mothers, though also a bit mothers.)

But herein lies the duality. It is socially acceptable to hate on yourself, invited even as you are seen as humble, but conversely we are encouraged to love ourselves no matter what, have a positive body image, be positive! But then often people who do love themselves are berated for being vain, superficial, arrogant. Pride is a sin after all.  And if you go too much the other way, criticise yourself, or even just be honest about yourself, you often get shut down. If you are fat, and you point out that you are fat, you are seen as being negative. But maybe you are just being realistic. At the end of the day, and despite what society may have us thinking, being fat doesn’t actually make you a bad person, you literally just have more fat, that’s it. But if you talk about being fat, even in a matter of fact way, truthfully, because you are a bit, often the answer is ‘No you’re not!’ by a kind soul who is trying to comfort you with delusion. But what if being fat, and saying you are, did not bring such shame? Although the person who says ‘no you’re not,’ (and I am not at all criticising this person and have been this person many times) is only trying to make you feel better, they, and you by complaining about being fat, are perpetuating the idea that to be fat is wrong, something to be excused, denied, swept under the carpet. What if we lived in a society where we could just talk about these things without the shame? Wouldn’t it be a happier place?

And that takes us back to the idea of having a healthy body image. What this means varies vastly from person to person.  For some, having a good body image can only be achieved by having a ‘good’ body. They feel better when they regularly go to the gym, eat well, don’t drink, and have the improving image in the mirror to prove it. Some see it as loving and accepting yourself for who you are, lumps, bumps, biscuits and all. Some believe that fat shaming is totally wrong, others think it’s alright if the person they are shaming is leading an unhealthy life. This is just the tip of the iceberg, and honestly when I sit down to write about this, I get confused about what I even think about it, because it is such a complex subject. Some may think it’s a frivolous thing to be writing about, but to me, looking after your well-being should be one of the most important things for everyone, and it’s something that people often do not give themselves time for. Just exactly what I mean by looking after your well-being, well, that’s another work in progress.

Eating my Feelings, Exercising my Words

/ anthropoidinterrupted / Leave a comment

This blog was initially started as a commentary on beauty standards within society.  And it still pretty much is. What started as a blog about my face (please see other posts for lengthy discussions on my face) has now morphed into a blog about my body as a whole, and how I navigate it in what sometimes seems like an overly superficial world. I say sometimes because there is also a lot of body positivity out there too these days, trying to combat the onslaught of negativity. I would like to contribute to the positive side of things, not the negative. But I’m not so sure I always do.

I started to write and publish this blog about 2 years ago, but like a lot of things in my life, I did not finish what I started. Instead I got scared and self-conscious, self-analytical and questioned myself to the point where I stopped. And the bloody thing was supposed to be about instilling confidence, albeit body confidence, in myself and others. Such is life, and I know I am far from unique in this regard.

My behaviours when it comes to writing can also apply to healthy eating and exercise. While my diet at times can be better than most, it can also be…very much not. Too much booze, too much junk food, too much, munchiness. Mmm munchy…okay. Back to it. I am aware of healthy eating and its benefits. I love good, rich, healthy food. I love cooking. But I do like the unhealthy stuff too, a lot. And I like to enjoy things and take pleasure in life and not deny myself too much. Life is hard enough, right?

With exercise, I go through periods of doing more and less, vaguely trying to remain healthy while having a tumultuous relationship with it. Part of me wants to do it, another part of me wants to lie around watching Netflix in my pants, coated in Dorito crumbs. So sometimes I would do it, sometimes not. And now, I really don’t do it at all, and apart from a couple of times when I’ve gone swimming or playing badminton with friends, or transporting myself from one place to another using my legs, I have barely exercised in years. This has led to me gain weight, feel less confident in myself, and it has also led to me questioning my relationship with exercise and diet, and think about the reasons for my issues with it (of which it turns out there are many!). Let’s face it, I’ve had a lot of time to just sit, and ponder (when I’m not watching movies, staring blankly into the abyss, or thinking about what to eat next).

What I have realised is that not only do I have multifaceted reasons for my fear of exercise, but that a lot of people have similar feelings. Add to this the reasonably drastic change in our society – a society that has become increasingly more obsessed with health and fitness. It’s hard to avoid this new facet of society, and therefore it has led me, self proclaimed semi-couch potato, to question it and think about how it connects to my own feelings and insecurities about it. As ever, with anything I write about I am trying to use my extensive, meandering inner thoughts in order to possibly make someone, somewhere, anywhere feel better, or less alone. Even if that person is me, I feel like it’s a win.

So there are two things (among many) that I have wanted to do for the last few years – sort out my issues with exercise and lose some weight, and write. I had the idea to combine the two, hoping one would spur the other on. So, as I try to pull my increasingly lumpy body out of the comfy yet scary sofa of my mind (a scary mind sofa, if you will) I thought I’d also write about my experiences and insecurities in the hope of not only inspiring others but also understanding myself and possibly forming new, healthier habits.

Typically, I’ve written and talked a fair bit around this topic, but have yet to really bother doing any exercise. Truthfully, as I write this I am sitting in a pub drinking a glass of Sauvignon Blanc and nibbling on a grab bag of Doritos. But I’m writing, so I’m doing one of the things. I’M DOING A THING, ALRIGHT?

I started to write this post in January 2020, and it is now March 2021. But we all know what happened in 2020. So I am going to be kind to myself. I did it. Eventually.

Now to do some exercise.

But what about your diet I hear you say?

Well, one thing at a time.

To Run or Not to Run?

/ anthropoidinterrupted / Leave a comment

That is not ‘the’ question, but it is a question I’ve been asking myself for the last half an hour. It’s been a while since I did any exercise, and much longer since I went for a run. I’m scared, I’m tired, I want wine. The thought of it is actually making me feel anxious. It’s raining outside, it’s dark, what if I get attacked? Not that I would ever go running during the day when people can actually see me.

To write or not to write? That is the question I’ve been asking myself for as long as I can remember. The toss up between knowing it’s a massive passion of mine, knowing that it comes naturally to me to play with words, knowing that I’ve felt a sense of guilt and slight but prevalent emptiness since I stopped. Friends, no doubt frustrated at my constant excuses, telling me ‘Just write! Just do it!’ And of course they are right, and are part of the reason I have started to type right this very second. But when you’re prone to depression, anxiety and procrastination, well they all rub along very well together, and often creativity doesn’t get a look in.

So, to put these two things together. Two things I know are good for me, but that I habitually avoid. What could possibly go wrong? As I lie here on the sofa on a Monday evening, Netflix in the background, another night of crisp and dip dinner, I decide to start writing again, for the first time in months, possibly over a year. Why? Because I have been meaning to forever. I have been saying I’m going to do it forever. I’ve said it over and over, In conversation. I’ve said it to the point where people probably roll their eyes and pity me. But now, I am finally doing it. This is exactly how I, and I would wager many, many people, feel about exercise. And exercise is what has made me want to write again. Round and round and round we go, will I do either pursuit? Who knows!