Is it possible to O.D. on peanut butter...?

I don't think so. My partner seems to think that even the smell of it is toxic. So toxic that even having a sealed jar in the cupboard is dangerous.

Ah well, the boss at home is still at work. That means it is peanut butter-o'clock. What she doesn't know won't harm her. Nom nom. ;-)

A Dress

It is not that I made a conscious decision to stop buying girly clothes, it just kind of happened gradually over time. The shift in clothes choice related to a dark period of my life when I put on shit loads of weight. It was a confidence thing, clearly. I was also in denial and wore elasticated waist lines so that I didn't have to admit that I was fat...and getting fatter.

I've lost all that weight now but I didn't go back to particularly feminine clothes. It came to a point a few weeks ago that I had to dig through old (ancient) photographs of me looking very feminine just to prove it to people. Short skirts, very long hair, long nails (kept shortish now for practical reasons), delicate shoes. Now I like to wear my DMs and smart trousers to work, or jeans at any other possible time that I can. It is because it is practical; comfortable. It certainly was for when I worked in IT.

But I am not in IT any more. This should have been in an update a while ago, but I am now a Personal Assistant. Back to administration, which I had promised myself I would never return to (it is actually a good job, but that's another story). I don't always need to wear such practical clothes, as I'm not going into server rooms or crawling under desks. I felt that it was time for a change. So I did it...I bought a dress.

I was always told that you should look in the mirror at yourself and find the one thing you like about yourself and say 'I love my *' (*fill in with eyes/smile/wrists/or other relevant body part). It isn't an ego thing, it is purely to say to yourself that there's something good you like (much more positive than look at sagging stomachs with self-loathing - I know, I've done that too). For me: my legs. I love my legs. All the hard work from doing three martial arts has paid off with perfectly toned legs. OK, so there are bits of my body I don't like at all, but if I look at my legs: I am good.

When I was overweight I was at my least confident and could barely speak to a shop assistant. It took me 6 months to get hair cuts, and I wore crappy clothes because I was afraid to go shopping. The guys at university even had a nickname for me: mute girl. It wasn't nice, but it was accurate. Over time, I grew as a person, but I was still lacking confidence and staying in terrible relationships because I didn't know that there could be better for me out there..

One day, when the shit hit the fan (I very suddenly became single), I decided that I didn't want that for myself any more; I wanted to be a part of the world. So I changed. I worked damn hard at change. Now I am a healthy size, I go to three different martial arts lessons, I am a PA that has to speak to a lot of different people, and I wear dresses.

This dress isn't just a dress to me, it is a reflection of how far I have come.

Everyone did a double take when they saw me today. Everyone. If an earlier version of myself could see me now, I doubt she would recognise me either.

Pants...

...fast drying. Sweat defying. At least, that's what the packet says. Don't ask how I got this pair of lady garments, don't even ask what they look like. I can't tell you, it would ruin my reputation. Better you think of them as lace, red perhaps, than the dull grey granny-pants that they actually are.

They have been at the back of my underwear drawer for some time. Unused, unwanted. But then the time finally came when I decided to test them.

We are walking the southwest coast path, not in one go (I tried that when I was younger and managed 120 miles before I got an injury) but in 13-14 mile sections at a time. We might do a section a day here and there, maybe occasionally camp on the way to make a whole weekend of walking. It is on both of our bucket lists.

We planned our first section on our holiday last week. St Agnes to Godrevy. 13.4 miles of beautiful coast with steep inclines and steeper drops. There is nothing like coast walking to get you hot and well exercised. What a perfect opportunity to test the pants!

It was a joke, at first. My partner laughed (oh, how she laughed) when the pants went on, but even in those first moments I knew that they felt...comfortable. We drove out to the starting point and started the walk. It was a hot day with glorious sunshine, and we started off at a fast pace. After an hour, they felt dry and comfortable. After two hours, the same...I almost got caught (in the middle of nowhere) checking...! (That would have looked odd). Damn it, even as we came to the end of the walk at 4.5 hours, they were soft, dry and comfy to wear.

I am an experienced walker. I have hiked up mountains (UK ones, if they count), across the Lake District and Peak District, across Dartmoor and Bodmin Moor, Penwith and the coastal path. I have walked hundreds of miles. Literally. But I never thought I would be converted to granny pants. Please don't say it's my age.

I once did a 14 mile walk wearing a thong under my walking trousers. Trust me, you wouldn't want to try it.  

No. I am afraid I am converted. I washed and readied the garment for the next walk which we did on Saturday (Godrevy to St Ives). I think they will become as important as my walking boots...

More changes

My life goes in cycles of change. It is never one stream of continuous moments, everything tends to pile in at the same time.

We have not been happy with our current accommodation. I have been there for two months, S one. On the face of it, it is a nice, quiet place but when you look closer the landlord painted over problems (damp problems) which are now just making the first stages of reappearance. There is no telephone line and we aren't allowed to get one (we didn't know this until we moved in. It is strange, to say the least). The plan is to escape.

We managed to scrape together the deposit for a new place, which we have arranged but are awaiting for the confirmation. I hope that it is successful. It is a nicer place, light and airy with two bedrooms and two bathrooms (one en suite). It seems more homely. Fingers crossed.

I have also, after all that work on the IT qualification (which I  passed a few weeks ago after hours and hours of revision), got a new job as a PA. I start on Thursday. It couldn't be so far from the IT career that I had started to work towards but it is something that I think will be fascinating and challenging (definitely challenging).

I gave myself just two short weeks off after my CompTIA A+ exams before the wheel of change started again. The move was sort of planned (we estimated September to get a place but the move date is hopefully going to be mid August instead). The job was not. A month ago, I could not have even imagined a job change. It will be exciting, though, with all the projects and objectives that I have been prepared with already.

It is, with lots of hope, that I will finally settle down after all this. I don't want to move for a good few years after (it is already four times in 10 months!). We shall see. For now, though, I need to de-stress as much as possible (go for runs, cycle, write) because it is a lot to think about in such a short time. Time and time again, I find myself wondering: why do I do this to myself? But then, I remember, I never do anything by halves.

Adjustments

My belongings are all but packed. When I moved to the lodge, I had little. Now I have even less. This upsets me. It's strange, though. A huge part of me doesn't want any of it at all; not my job, not my "things", not even my car. I do want my bicycle and what few clothes I have left, but the rest...

I have contemplated giving it all away. The lot. Just discard the old baggage and start again. I have that opportunity, so what's stopping me? Wanting to be normal?

The lodge was never what I expected it would be. It was not the writer's haven, nor the photographer's paradise. It was freezing cold in the winter; a capsule of seclusion. A place for hibernation.

I have learnt a lot from my experience. Sometimes I feel as though I have learnt nothing at all. I have stepped backwards a fraction: my confidence has dropped, my insecurities exposed. I am not sure if I have missed the opportunity for self-development.

It is time to move on. Start afresh. I'm good at that, at least. It is a good starting again though. S will be moving in with me in a couple of months time, if not less. I will have to adapt to living with someone again.

I have often wondered if my past experiences of co-habiting have damaged me in some way, but I am going to try my hardest. She is worth it.

Life is about how you adjust to situations and how you learn from them, but for so many years I have felt like the wrong shaped cog trying to fit into the machinery of society. I have never quite fitted and never understood how others do. I pretend that I know more than I do, but I really know nothing.

There is so much pressure in today's world to be a certain  way. To hold down a good job, to marry and have children. I'm gay, so those same pressures shouldn't be relevant but yet it is expected of me. Not the children, perhaps, but the rest. Is that really me?! I hate being tied down. Every Spring, I lust for adventure far from here. I become restless and begrudge being stuck.

There has been a lot of talk this weekend. S is the same as me. We crave the same things. She makes me feel that we can find a way. We will try to adapt our lives to make it possible, to do all the things we want.

Life will be interesting, I am certain. And it will mean a hell of a lot of adjustments.

The lodge

I love my lodge. I do, at least when the sun shines and the birds flock to the feeders that I put out for them, and the sky is a promising blue, or when the fire is lit and the living room is cosy. When it is cold, I certainly know about it.

I have cried before. That was the night before my electric blanket arrived; the temperature was -3 degrees. I dread the cold, which has my hands and feet turning interesting hues of blue, white and red. My blood circulation, which has never been good, has been declining over the last few years and I end up with crippling pain and the threat of chillblains.

I have a choice, I know I do: to stay in a wooden lodge, no more than a few planks of wood from the elements, or I could move into a real house and be sheltered and warm. Choices are never so easy, nor as black and white as they seem. If I moved from the lodge, would I miss the closeness to nature? It is unique, isolated and peaceful. We have pheasants walking up to the windows and an acre and a half of garden to enjoy. 

Soon it will be summer, and the winter will seem far away. I am looking forward to bbqs on the veranda, and long strolls in the countryside. After the summer, maybe even after autumn, I probably won't be living in the lodge...I can't go through another winter like this one. I am done with cold places. But the idea of leaving makes me sad.

The problem is, I can't see myself living in a "normal" house again either. It is strange; as the lodge has transformed into a home, I have transformed along with it. The lodge is me, an external part of me. It is how I have always wanted to live: a wooden home with the bare essentials. If I could have a choice, I would build my own wooden house with insulation and eco-friendly heating (always heating, heating is never over rated), so that I can mix the world I love with a world of the essential warmth that I need.

Here's dreaming of finding a way...