I went swimming tonight.
Or, should I say, I tried to go swimming tonight. I got into the leisure centre at ten minutes to eight, and asked, specifically, if the main pool was open. I’d actually walked over to the spectator’s gallery to check to see if it was, and it WAS, and they said it was, and I was like, “YAY!” and went downstairs and started swimming laps.
The problem was, there were boys who were swimming BREADTHS, and the lifeguards could see that we all were swimming lengthwise, and they did NOTHING to stop them.
Worse than that, about fifteen minutes after I started swimming, they cordoned off the top 10 metres of the pool, up at the deep end, and raised the floor, tossed in a lot of floating toys, and locked us all off from the deep end.
Now, in Hamilton Leisure Centre, there are three pools: the 0.3m kiddy’s pool; the 0.65m leisure pool and the 1-2m SWIMMING pool. Why they couldn’t send the kids into the leisure pool and toss the floating things in there, I don’t know.
The only problem was then there were people swimming all over; diagonally, lengthwise, breadthwise, jumping in off the sides and I just.
I actually got to talking to a few women – the fun thing, I think, about being Scottish is we’re all so friendly, and we will just start up conversations with random strangers because we are both there – one of whom was swimming to lose weight, too. She used to be a member of Weight Watchers, and we swapped tales – eating white-chocolate Magnum ice cream bars, managing to eat an entire large bar of Milkybar in one sitting, and she told that once, she saved enough Points in a week just so that she could sit and eat an entire cheesecake all to herself.
I heard her. I absolutely heard her.
Tonight, Mum and Dad and Lorna went down to my big sister’s house for dinner, spaghetti bolognese, and I really didn’t feel like spaghetti bolognese, so I opted to stay home. And instead of staying home and cooking the chicken that Mum had defrosted for last night’s dinner (which never got made because of the screw-ups with Lorna’s flights) I phoned for take-away, which I ended up eating barely any of, anyway, and spent approximately £10 for food I didn’t eat instead of £5 for the smaller portions and less food, or instead of spending £10 or ANYTHING, I could have cooked the chicken with some sort of sauce and rice and saved myself calories and whatever.
But there have been times where I’ve binged – really binged – and felt sick but kept on eating. Once upon a time, I was able to eat an entire tub of ice cream – usually Haagen-Dazs – a large pack of Doritos, a big bar of chocolate, and an entire PACK of profiteroles.
I wish I was kidding about that.
I can’t do that any more. Even just last autumn, I was able to eat a whole pack of pakora, a portion and a half of rice and a tub of curry sauce with chicken in, on top of a Naan bread. I can’t do that any more. I’m lucky if I can finish 6 pieces of pakora and half the rice and curry, never mind any naan bread.
I think this is a good thing. I think this is a sign that I’m heading in the right direction, even if I am still making some bad decisions along the way.Let's get social: