A tale of woe

Last week was a tough week.  I had a 3^rd stage for a job I really wanted and a 2^nd stage for a job I didn’t particularly.  There was also a whole host of minor crap to deal with too.

The stage 3 went pretty well so I was devastated to hear I didn’t get the job.  To say it’s been a torturous process is an understatement and I can’t – yet – pick myself up out of my slump of sadness and disappointment.

 
The stage 2 went less well but confirmed to me that, much as I liked the organisation, I really didn’t want the job.  I didn’t get it either so didn’t have to feel bad about turning it down or agonising about whether I ‘should’ take it.  I had to go along, knowing I’d not got the job I really wanted and feeling utterly miserable and yet pretend to be all perky and enthusiastic.  And the tubes weren’t running properly either so I arrived late and stressed.
 
My eating has not been great – I only managed one starve day last week because of concentrating on the interviews and then on Friday when perhaps I should have done one, I was just too low.
 
Since then, I’ve had a 3 day (so far) migraine and a fall and am feeling absolutely lousy.  Life feels like a bit of a slog at the moment.  But when this migraine lifts, that in itself will make me feel better, I’m sure.  It has to go tomorrow as I have my wine exam and have booked a day’s leave to cram a bit.  I don’t know how I’d manage to study – much less do the exam – whilst I’m feeling like this. 

Ring a ding ding

I am saying this very cautiously and quietly but I think I can see a difference.  Not exactly see one – I don’t look any different and my clothes aren’t fitting any differently but I’d been having real problems with my engagement ring.  I’d found it increasingly difficult to get it on or off – to the extent I’d caused sores and blisters on my finger from trying to force it on or yank it off.  My finger had got so bad that I decided just to leave my engagement ring on.  Well, on Monday I noticed it was flopping about a bit and very cautiously tried to wiggle it – and it came off!
 
I suspected this was a one-off so tried not to get too excited but it’s come off (and indeed back on) every day since – if not as smoothly as Monday.  I often wiggle it during the day, convinced that my finger will have swollen back up.  Of course, if I keep fiddling with it it will become a self-fulfilling prophesy!
 
It’s a teeny tiny thing but for me at least and at last it feels like some sort of progress.  Usually I’m either standing stock still (in terms of progress, keep with the analogy here) or being pulled backwards further into the land of chub.   

There’s no real difference in what I’m doing except that I have stopped having diet drinks – it can’t be that straightforward though I know.  I’ll know if I continue to make progress if I can actually wear all my lingerie again without physical pain after an hour and wheals in the side of my boobs that turn into bruises and leave permanent red-puple marks.  That would be a happy day indeed.

Winter is coming

And so life chugs on.  The whole job application process is emphatically Not Fun.  Although I had the weirdest interview process of my life a couple of weeks ago which circumspection forbids me from discussing but my mind is still comprehensively boggled.  Still, I’m through to erm, stage 3 of it and that looks like a ‘normal’ interview.  And I really quite want the job.  But I have an interview next week, one the week after and then my wine exam the following week so I foresee a long period without being able to relax, you know, with that constant feeling of impending doom hanging over you.  Drama Queen much?  Well maybe but I really, really don’t like either interviews or exams.
 
Am I stress eating?  No.  There is definitely some room for improvement but on the whole, it’s not too bad.  Am I seeing results?  PA HA HA HA HA HA.  Whaddyouthink?  Of course not.  And it suddenly feels as if winter is hovering in the wings.
 
I seem to have spent a scary amount of money recently on winter wardrobe essentials and it gives me no pleasure as I don’t want to stay this size, even though past experience says I’m likely to be stuck with it.  I bought a pair of boots, a pair of heeled brogues (admittedly these should fit even if the slimming fairy gets her finger out and notices my existence), a mac and a very expensive jacket (yet to be tried on and justified to myself as an interview talisman).  I bought one of those down coats on the basis that it’s warm – it looked shocking and I sent it back as I looked like a chubster wrapped in a duvet.  Which was accurate but not flattering.  And a parka thing which may or may not yet work out.  I have spent a lot of time lugging stuff to the post office to return.  I really hate buying clothes at this size – I buy with hope in my heart.  The things arrive and I’m afraid to try them on.  I finally screw my courage together and 9/10 times I hate them and most of all, me in them.  I pay to return the items.  Sometimes it feels as if I rent the clothes as a self-flagellation tool.  I am fairly confident that I have no latent masochistic tendencies and yet here I am, emotionally bruised.
 
Work continues to be crazy, frustrating, short-staffed, over-worked and well, crazy in all senses of the word.  Still, I’ve not had any cockroaches on my desk this week which means it’s a better week than last week.  And perhaps I’ll win the lottery tonight – it wouldn’t make me slim but I think the millions could buy me a fair amount of happiness.  And a cockroach-free environment.