I get bored doing yoga

I got depressed when I tried mediating

I don’t think herbals have any true redeeming qualities

I get hungry when the word ‘detoxing’ is mentioned

I have never been on a diet (actually I have brownies in the oven)

I struggle with self-help books of any kind

I do wonder why anyone would do any of the above …


Recently I was travelling back from Kenya and I encountered two British women dressed like Ali Bamba with sparkly head gear, the type of balloon trousers I found fun in the seventh grade and so many brightly wound scarves.   With all their garb its no wonder they stood out, but for me it was the coal marked eyes that accentuated their tiredness and age. They were at least in their 60s and just way too old to be playing such dress up.  Only when I saw the man they were shadowing – some type of mystic sheik – that it all became clear.


And so I wonder about those who struggle through the above under the guise of healthiness or enlightenment.  The latter worries me as why can’t they just turn to God?  Why is such sacrifice required when really all that is needed is God’s grace?  And yet so many women (oddly only women) I know and respect swear by at least one of the above.  And while I am sure most will not end up like those two women following in slight madness a man 30 years younger with charisma, maybe I am missing something.


My Day

_MG_0400Tomorrow is my day – my birthday that is. I will turn 38. I can’t quite get my head around it. I have this odd sensation of barrelling towards 40 with not a care in the world. At this point, who cares how old I am – I moving on up and there isn’t a darn thing I can do about it.

God and I had a bit of deadline, milestone, challenge regarding this birthday. I threw it down on my tiled floor in a moment of desperation and sadness. I had lost perspective – which M was largely to blame – and was just too tired to care what the outcome would be. Deep down I knew though it was wrong and more than a bit dramatic – but my soul wanted a showdown with fate. Funny how none of that seems to matter anymore?

Instead I wonder when toothbrushes became like sneakers with their brightly coloured flares and racing stripes. I wish for one that is just a simple pale blue or purple. No tongue scratcher to take pieces of my cheek off. Just some hard bristles to do the job that is supposed to.  In the last week I have bought 3 toothbrushes and realized I must be a bit of a snob on the whole subject. This is the serious pondering as I approach my birthday. Smile

Cake anyone?   I know what I am wishing for when blowing out the candles.


Today I went under the 65 kilo mark for the first time in 6 months!

It had become the hurdle in me trying to re-capture my body.  No matter how many weights I lifted, time spent on the cross trainer or yummy food I did NOT eat (although I really wanted to), the lowest I got was 65.4 (and that was only a few times).  You see before I quit smoking in September, I sung between 55 and 58 kilos.   Within 3 months of quitting – I had hit a whopping 70 kilos. If I can get myself firmly in the 64 territory, then I will be half way where I should be at minimum.

But right now I am happy to go under 65. Granted its 0.1 kilo … but who is counting?





Its Easter morning.  This year has been one of the most difficult in terms of faith and coming around to this holist of holidays – I am reminded that my faith lies on Jesus and all that his sacrifice means to me. 


This time last year I thought I had found a ‘spiritual home’ for the first time since I started to re-explore my faith in 2001.  Even better it was local and so each Sunday morning I would trapeze across my park to the church.  Often I would run into a neighbour or someone else and we would enter it together.  I felt like I belonged, and joined a Home Study group which was made up of a good mix of women and men my age.  We prayed, shared Sunday lunches and spent time together.  I felt really good.


But then it all fell apart.  For reasons I will never understand. Their lack of support and narrow-mindedness in terms of a single woman’s role in the Christian family just wasn’t compatible with mine and I felt that I had no choice but to move with my feet.  It left me feeling rejected and lonely.  With my relationship with M falling apart – I doubted I would ever find myself in a traditional Christian relationship.  I felt damned … literally.


So for months I did not pray and of course avoided setting a foot in church.  Then a need for a church to help me with something totally bureaucratic opened the door so ever slightly on my past church, which is a good ½ hour now away.  With baby steps I am re-exploring my faith and finding my feet again.  It does not feel just good – it feels more like a rebirth, an awaking, an awareness of my role within it. 


With all the disappointment of the last two years of back and forth with M however, I am gun-shy about feeling exciting about anything I think is ‘right.’  But this is not healthy as it makes me sad and prevents the feeling of joy due to me from deep with in.  So on this Easter I went to service to be thankful for all God does for me.  I even let a woman pray for me.  When she did, she looked deep within my eyes and said


“I see a teacup.  Its as if he has so much more to offer and all you have at the moment is a teacup”.


How befitting don’t you think?



Time to break out my summer dresses which flow across my curves and make me feel all womanly.  Time to get my toes painted. Each year I tell myself it will be red … but it always ends up something muted as that fits me better.  Time to clean out my house, my heart, my mind to find the correct path to forge as the world rebirths. Time to flirt, smile and just be.


I love spring