The invasion

We have been invaded on two fronts at the moment. The first incursion was ants, which although this country has several of their kind including the dreaded Fire ant (a recent immigrant), we rarely see in this house. Obviously the recent rain (yes it actually rained on and off for a week) has driven them out of their homes and turned them into a marauding force. One that was viciously held at bay with an aggressive insecticide... bad ecologically unsound slave L

The second front was breached by a loathsome thing that one firmly believes shouldn't be allowed in a home. It is the cause of emotional turmoil, depression and low self esteem. They make perfectly rational people become obsessively, compulsively, neurotic creatures. We are of course talking about a set of bathroom scales.

Having come from a home with a dedicated dieter in charge of the fridge, one despises them and what they stand for. As a child it was either feast or famine... literally. Auntie, who came from the school of a little of what you fancy does you good, would take one look at the waif on her door step and cluck noisily with disgust and go on a fattening up phase. Mother would peer at one distastefully and plop one on a diet.

By the time one left home it was safe to say one did not have a good relationship with food. Actually one didn't really have a relationship with it at all. Most of the young adult life was spent underweight... not through dieting per se more that one simply didn't eat. At one stage there the second step mother popped into a dressing room to hand one something, and gasped in horror that you could count every bone in the body. Peering in the mirror one really couldn't see what the issue was... all one could see was the fat.

Of course the irony of that is that now with PCOS there really is fat... the stubborn persistent kind that is so hard to shift. The sort that keeps you on some form of a food alert and in the gym for life, in an effort to stave off the inevitable obesity that comes with PCOS. The difference is that these days one doesn't worry about the weight as much as if the clothes fit, and one is healthy and eating well. The joy of the gym is that clothing is a better indicator of what is going on than a set of scales because those things lie... and they whisper their poison in little slithery tongues that only your self esteem can hear.

So why has our home been breached by one of the minions of evil you may be wondering? Well it's all His doing. He like the challenge of stepping on one of the damn things and them telling him that he is winning. See the sad fact is that you do not ever want to engage in a weight loss battle with a man as your partner... the bastards lose weight up to twice as fast as a woman. Scales are their friends... actually they make the scales their bitch... and it is rolling over for Him.