


I left home soon after finishing High School and when I moved in with my boyfriend I discovered takeaways. At home Thursday nights meant Takeaway fish and chips, Every Thursday! But away from Mum and Dad and out of control, I discovered a new found treat, KFC & Maccas. Does it get any worse? Living with two guys who didn't care about good eating, I tried cooking with my limited understanding of healthy meals. (Mum was not exactly Martha Stewart in the kitchen, so I knew nothing about cooking). I would boil mince, mash potatoes, add loads of tomato sauce and peas to the mince and eat. I had no chance. Combined with regular all night beer drinking parties, I was out of control. AND I didn't know any better.
When my daughter was born, I tried, I made sure I cooked home made fruit and proper food. I experimented and I knew that while it may have been ok for me to eat crap, it certainly wasn't how a baby was meant to eat. But when she was 3, I moved us to a stable where we lived and I worked for our board in a small pop up caravan. We had a 2 burner cook top and a toaster grill. We ate a lot of baked beans on toast. I survived a hard year, cleaning stables and earning my way and I survived on very little. My staple diet consisted of one pot meals and tube fruit ice blocks. Needless to say, while my weight had blown out after leaving school. When I left my life on the farm, I weighed 53kilos and was a size 8. I was fit and strong, but I was rushing from sugar high to sugar low.
I met Big Gazza at 28. He was a chef and I had done a hospitality course and was waitressing. We were married and life began and I remember cooking him a meal. Wanting to impress, I cooked lamb chops smothered in a thick, brown, thrown together, tasty as hell but not that healthy gravy. He still talks about that meal.
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70 kilos boom diddy boom! |
But through my time when I have been reflective, or perhaps conscious of what I am putting in my mouth, I know the real culprit here is the sugar. I guess I have a scientific mind, or perhaps just common sense, but I can see without having to be hit with a sledge hammer where the problem sits. I have been at the mercy of the sugar cravings, screamed at myself to ignore the profiteroles that are talking to me from the other end of the table at parties, watched myself from a distance as I sneak another carob button, stolen a quick chocolate treat while I wasn't even looking. I am ADDICTED and I know it.
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58 kilos and hello mumma! |


Stay tuned.
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