Three Piece Suite

Cheersbye

2010-04-20T10:24:00.002+10:00

Hey peeps,

So it's been a loooong time since I was here! And 10 days since I said I would be back on deck. Sorry about that! I've been ker-azy busy with work and uni and friends and family and all that fun stuff. It's like John Lennon says: life is what happens when you're making other plans!

And that's why, ladies and gents, I've come to the difficult decision to take an indefinite break from Three Piece Suite. I started the blog because I had a lot to say about the weird, weird world of weight loss. I wanted to help other people see what I see: that it's vital we look past all the lies we're fed by the multi-billion dollar slimming industry to the truth of the matter, which is that eating well and exercising regularly are the ONLY ways to safely lose weight and keep it off for life.

Now I feel like, well, my work here is done. I've tried to explore some of the thorny social and political issues surrounding weight and body image and why we believe the things we believe. I don't feel I can be any more explicit with my message: to get slim, you have to get real. It all comes down to YOU.

I know you haven't always agreed with my thoughts on weight loss but, for the most part, your comments and criticism have been constructive and thought provoking, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. There's nothing like a hearty debate!

But for now I need to go and do some other things. I have a screenplay to write, for one. (God, that sounds pretentious! But I really do - it's my major uni assignment!) I have an increasingly humanoid dog to entertain. I have five months to plan the most kick-arse 30th birthday fiesta ever. I have a trip to New York and London to look forward to. I have a lovely, lovely husband to look after.

I'll miss blogging and I'm pretty sure I'll be back in some other guise. But next time I'm going to come back as me, not Kitty the weight-loss warrior! From time to time I may pop back here and delve into the world of weight loss once more. If not, I'll catch you elsewhere on the information superhighway!

I hope you've learned something here. I hope you've been encouraged to think about taking care of yourself in a new way. I hope you've realised that there are no quick fixes, that only YOU have the power (and the responsibility) to ensure you are healthy and happy, inside and out.

Take care... and keep it real y'all!

xKitty

Back soon!

2010-03-22T08:33:00.002+11:00

Morning girls and boys!

Apologies for my absence from the blogsphere... unfortunately it's going to continue for a couple more weeks. I'm studying part-time and have a very full-on week at uni, then I'm going to Radelaide for the wedding of an awesome friend and THEN I'm going on a much-needed holiday.

I'll be back on deck on April 9. Have fun til then!

xKitty

The wisdom of age

2010-03-07T11:16:00.004+11:00

I haven't quite got to grips with Twitter yet (even though I have an account - you can follow me here) but there are a few Tweeps that I really get a kick out of. One of those is Shit My Dad Says in which 29-year-old Justin shares the no-holds-barred wisdom of his 74-year-old father.

To say the dad is blunt is putting it mildly; he swears a lot and refuses to sugar coat his pearls of wisdom. But the man makes sense - so much so, those US TV bods are making a television series based on his truisms.

Take this little quip, for instance:

"I lost 20 pounds...How? I drank bear piss and took up fencing. How the fuck you think, son? I exercised."

A man after my own heart.

Is this child abuse?

2010-03-05T10:12:00.004+11:00

These images are disturbing, to say the least.

This is Pang Ya, a two-year-old girl from rural China with a terribly serious weight problem. Yes, you read that correctly: she is TWO YEARS OLD and weighs 41kg - as much as an average Chinese adult woman.

Her parents admit their daughter has "a healthy appetite" but say they're at a loss as to how to bring her back into a healthy weight range. "Doctors can't figure out the reasons for her obesity, which worries us a lot," says her father. Quite rightly.

China is a rich country, but many people in the rural provinces are impoverished and poorly educated. Which is what makes me think something besides the usual "eating too much, moving too little" situation is

going on in Pang Ya's case - her parents may not have the nutritional knowledge that many people in wealthy locales have, but they probably don't have the money to be feeding their child calorie and fat-laden convenience foods either.

But is that an excuse? As one commentator pointed out, if this case had occurred in a western nation, this girl's parents would be under investigation by child welfare authorities.

It's a tricky situation. I just hope Pang Ya gets the help she needs quickly, or her future is far from bright.

(Also, what the hell does a two year old need a mobile phone for? Who is she calling?!)

Speechless

2010-03-03T18:05:00.001+11:00

Check this out.

Sometimes there are just no words.

For the record

2010-03-01T09:35:00.003+11:00

Good morning one and all; hope you had a lovely weekend!

I just have a little public service announcement to kick off the week...

I get that by choosing to blog about a topic as complex, emotional and occasionally controversial as weight loss I open myself up to criticism. I appreciate that not everyone will agree with the opinions I express, and that some of you will want to tell me about it.

That's totally cool with me.

Think something I've written is totally wrong? By all means, let me know. Reckon I've muddled up my facts or based a post on dud information? Let me hear it. I welcome your views - be they positive or negative - on what I've written.

What I do not welcome, however - in fact, what I reject 100 per cent - is attacks on me as a person. And yes, I'm speaking to just a handful of people here. I'm glad some of you feel personally engaged with me as a result of what I write but, at the end of the day, you don't really know anything about me or what makes me tick. I share my thoughts with you on one thing and one thing only.

That's all I want to say. Except for one final thing: anyone who would go out of their way to tell me that I'm nasty and morally irredeemable might want to consider the old adage about the pot and the kettle.

Have a great week!

Guilty, your honour

2010-02-25T09:11:00.005+11:00

So I didn't post yesterday, and I feel guilty about that. I took a day off and went to visit a friend who's just moved to an idyllic country hamlet a couple of hours from Sydney. It was a lovely day - but guilt was a recurring theme!

My friend has a nine-week-old baby girl and, like most new mothers, is now wracked with guilt about, oh, pretty much everything. When bub sleeps through a feed, she feels guilty that her child is going hungry. But when she wakes her up to feed her, she feels guilty about that, too. When she pops out and leaves the little'un with her dad, she feels guilty that she's abandoning her offspring. But when she takes the baby with her she feels she's depriving her partner of quality time with his daughter - guilt city!

I don't have kids, but I hear from my friends who do that when you give birth to a child you're also bringing a heavy and constant burden of guilt into the world. The thing is, I don't think this guilty conscience is the sole preserve of mums. I think it's women in general.

I feel guilty all the time. As I said at the start of this post, I felt guilty that I didn't post yesterday. I also felt guilty that I gave myself a day off hustling for my next freelance commission to go swanning about the countryside. I felt guilty that I imposed on my mate for a whole day when she was probably tired and overwhelmed and had a million better things she could have been doing. I even felt guilty that I had our car for the day and Mr Kitty had to get the bus home - even though I got up at the crack of dawn to drive him to work!

If you're trying to lose weight, I'll bet that guilt is your ever-present companion. You feel guilty if you exceed your daily calorie limit or have a cheeky glass of wine on a Friday night or skip the gym. You feel guilty when your kids complain they don't want to eat your healthy meals or your husband moans when you ask him to join you on your morning walk. You feel guilty for spending money on health magazines or weight-loss books. You feel guilty for buying that new pair of shoes or a cute top - because you're overweight and you don't deserve nice things until you're thin, right?

It's bloody exhausting, isn't it?

Unfortunately, I don't have any advice on how to rid yourself of guilt for good. I think that, as women, the sad fact is we'll always carry guilt with us, because we'll always feel responsible for the care and wellbeing of those around us. But I am going to suggest two things that I think might help...

Firstly, remember this one thing: you are entitled to take the time and put the effort into caring for your health - both physical and emotional. Whatever other obligations and commitments you have in your life, this is your number one priority.

Secondly - and this one is borrowed from my mate's mothers' group - try this little exercise: write down five things that you feel really, really guilty about; things that drive you crazy and that you'd really like to let go of. Put that list in an envelope and seal it. Then burn that envelope or tear it into a million teeny pieces. You are not allowed to feel guilty about those five things anymore. (If this seems too selfish and/or confronting, don't worry - there's still a hundred thousand other things you can feel guilty about!)

What five things are going on your list?!

Lite 'n' Sleazy

2010-02-23T09:32:00.004+11:00

If you live in Australia, you might have seen a recent TV ad for Lite 'n' Easy. It shows three people - presumably a mum and dad and their adult daughter - talking about how Lite 'n' Easy, which is a company that delivers calorie-controlled meals to your door, takes all the hard work out of weight loss.

The trio go on and on and ON about how they don't have to think about what they're eating - they just go to the freezer, take out a 'meal' and Robert's your father's brother. The dad even talks about how he lost weight without having to do anything new or different.

This ad makes me mad. I can see why Lite 'n' Easy have taken this line: humans are inherently lazy and want fast results with little or no effort. Of course pitching your product as the fast track to slimness, no exercise, willpower or sacrifice required, is going to sell it by the truckload.

But I want to see the follow-up commercial in 12 months' time, when all three of them have stacked the weight back on precisely because they haven't had to think about weight loss. I want to see dad struggling to do up his trousers because all that 'doing nothing' has come back to bite him on the backside.

Because that is exactly what will happen. People cannot lose weight and keep it off unless they understand why they were above their healthiest weight to begin with. If you don't get that sitting around and eating crap makes you fat, as soon as the Lite 'n' Easy runs out and you go back to your old habits, what do you think is going to happen?

It's really irresponsible advertising, and it winds me up.

Wowsers

2010-02-18T09:11:00.004+11:00

Three words: Christina. Freakin'. Hendricks.

Now this is a woman with curves. Could she BE any hotter?!

We need to talk about Kevin

2010-02-17T10:17:00.004+11:00

You might not have heard of Kevin Smith, the creator of such cult hit movies as Clerks, Chasing Amy and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. If you've seen any of these films, however, you will have seen Smith: he stars in his own flicks as the tubby, trenchcoat-wearing mute weirdo, Silent Bob.

And if you watch the news or read the papers, you will definitely have seen Smith this week. He's kicked up a right old fuss after a bit of a to-do with American domestic airline Southwest.

Like many US airlines, it's Southwest's policy that "passengers of size" - ie fat people - must buy a second seat if they cannot fit safely and comfortably into the seat they've booked. Apparently Smith, who admits he's "way fat", was happily seated and awaiting take-off of his Southwest flight when the air waitress approached and told him he needed to cough up for the seat next to him. When he refused, pointing out that this alleged problem should have been addressed before he was seated, the captain got involved and ejected Smith from the flight.

Smith immediately spread the word to his 1.5 million Twitter followers, prompting Southwest's corporate bods to issue a series of grovelling apologies and offer a $100 voucher (which Smith refused).

I have two questions about this incident, neither of which is "should Kevin Smith have been thrown off the plane?" As far as I'm concerned, that's irrelevant. What's really interesting to me about this whole debacle is:

1) Why do Kevin Smith and the media think we should care about his experience, when any other obese passenger with a similar story wouldn't see the light of day? Several airlines have this policy and have no doubt ejected countless other large passengers; we never hear a word about them.

2) Why have Southwest airlines been so embarrassingly contrite towards Smith? If this is their policy (and I'm not saying I agree with it), they should stick by it, whether the ejected passenger is famous or not. Why does Smith get special treatment? (And he obviously thinks he deserves it, or why bleat about his experience to the Twittersphere?)

Okay, that's four questions. Sorry.

I'm so over the double standards in the great weight debate. It's like... some women are "curvy", while others are just fat. Famous fat guys are fine, an overweight female celebrity is the devil incarnate. We want to see larger women in fashion mags, but then we get all upset because they're not large enough. It's bad to throw obese celebrities off planes, but marching Joe Average back to the terminal is A-OK.

Here's one more question: how are we ever going to even begin to make sense of all this, and give overweight people a solid, sensible message about shedding kilos, when we can't figure out what the hell is going on?

Girl crush!

2010-02-16T09:12:00.004+11:00

Oh, Tina Fey. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways!

1. You are the writer and star of one of the funniest shows on TV, 30 Rock.

2. You also wrote one of my favourite teen chick flicks, Mean Girls. And you tried to keep Lindsanity on the straight and narrow!

3. You make being an awkward book nerd seem totally rad.

4. Your Sarah Palin impression. 'Nuff said.

5. You named your daughter Alice, a perfectly lovely, sensible name. Not Hasbrown or Stiletto or something equally stupid.

6. You're US Vogue's latest cover girl and you're your usual sensible-yet-hilarious self on the subject of skinny models and women's body image:

"People will say, 'Oh, fashion magazines are so bad, they're giving girls a negative message'-but we're also the fattest country in the world, so it's not like we're all looking at fashion magazines and not eating. Maybe it just starts a shame cycle: I'm never going to look like that model, so…Chicken McNuggets it is! And conversely, I don't look at models who are crazy skinny and think I want to look like that, because a lot of them are gigantic, with giant hands and feet. Also, my dad is an artist-a painter by hobby-and I constantly would see realistic nudes. Because we were raised around art and went to museums and the women I grew up around were curvy…there wasn't this value on skinny, skinny, skinny. Curvy was clearly meant to be the winner. I go up and down a few pounds with a relative amount of kindness to myself. And I have a daughter, and I don't want her to waste her time on all of that."

Tina Fey, you are awesome.

Reading in the gym

2010-02-15T11:46:00.005+11:00

So I just went to the gym for the first time in three weeks. My prolonged absence from the treadmill was not my doing - I was banned by my doctor in the wake of The Day of the Stingray. But my wound is less festery (is that a word?) and gross now, so I figured it was time to get back in the saddle.

When I got to the bit where I make really unattractive faces while lifting weights, I found myself next to an overweight woman doing the same thing. But this lady had something I didn't: a book.

I did a double take - I mean, who brings a book to the gym? But then I looked closer and realised the tome in question was American Biggest Loser trainer Jillian Michaels' weight-loss guide, Winning by Losing. This lady was using the book as her personal trainer, constantly referring to it and faithfully performing all of the exercises.

I'm a little ashamed to admit my first reaction was, 'Oh, how embarrassing - doing exercises out of a book in the gym!' Because the thing is, I bet the woman was a little embarrassed. Gyms can be pretty intimidating places, filled as they are with musclebound meatheads and lithe yummy mummies who actually look good in Lycra. She was probably a tiny bit mortified to be publicly seen to be taking her cues from a TV trainer.

But she did it anyway. And that's the difference between people who successfully lose weight and people who don't.

She might have felt silly being overweight and sweaty and poring over her well-thumbed weight-loss book. But she was there and she was doing it. She wasn't one of those people who claims to have 'tried everything' but in reality is too frightened to even step a toe out of their comfort zone.

I've no doubt this lady will lose weight and keep it off. Hats off to her. And in the meantime, I learned a little something about just getting on with it.

Under the knife

2010-02-10T08:43:00.006+11:00

You know, I'm still not sure about gastric banding. I've blogged about it before and thought about it plenty since then, but my metaphorical jury is still out. Clearly it's a lifesaver for some people whose weight is quite simply a potential killer... but I'm just not convinced those people couldn't lose weight without surgical intervention to prevent bingeing.

The 'to band or not to band' debate is about to get a whole lot murkier with news that the authors of a major new Australian study on childhood obesity are calling for more kids to have gastric bands fitted.

Around 10 per cent of Aussie boys and seven per cent of girls are now morbidly overweight, say the researchers from Melbourne's Monash University - that's up from just two per cent in the 1980s. Other research shows that fat kids almost always become fat adults and never - that's right, NEVER - achieve a healthy weight in their entire lives. According to yet more studies, obese children are also more likely to use unhealthy weight control methods such as starving themselves or throwing up their dinner.

As part of its research, the Monash University team fitted 25 obese kids with gastric bands and put a further 25 on healthy eating and exercise plans. The kids with the bands lost on average 79 per cent of their excess weight, while the healthy lifestyle kids shed just 13 per cent.

They team say that, with all this in mind, gastric banding is the safest and most effective option for obese young people.

But... really?

Generally speaking, kids are fatter now than 30 years ago because they spend more time sitting in front of TV screens and computers and less time riding their bikes and building treehouses, or whatever it was we used to do when we were kids. They also eat more processed foods and cleverly marketed sugary snacks. There's a whole raft of reasons for this - parents are time poor, for example, and don't have the luxury of whipping up gourmet meals every night. Plus, society isn't as safe as it once was, so it's understandable that mum and dad prefer to keep little Billy close by.

But whatever the reasons for this childhood obesity problem, surely performing major digestive surgery on an 11 year old isn't the way. As difficult as it may be in this day and age to ensure our kids eat well and get enough exercise, shouldn't we at least try that before they go under the knife? As a child fitness expert said to me last week, it has to be a conscious decision - you can't just say 'I wish my child was more active' as you throw another Xbox game into the trolley. (Maybe this would encourage more parents to take action.)

What do you reckon?

Happy birthday to me!

2010-02-05T09:08:00.003+11:00

Morning all,

I can't quite believe it, but I've just realised today is Three Piece Suite's first birthday! Can it really have been a whole 12 months since I first lost my rag with all the ludicrous things the weight-loss industry expects us to do in pursuit of thin, and decided to write about it?!

So much has happened in the past year... I left my job as a magazine editor and set up on my own as a freelance health writer. Touch wood, that's going gangbusters - long may it continue! Mr Kitty and I bought a house, Tex the Wonderdog proved to be an invaluable source of weight-loss wisdom and I injured myself in various exotic ways. (Incidentally, the cankle now has a raging, and very painful, infection... it's the gift that keeps on giving!)

Oh yeah, and I learned a lot about what it means to be healthy and have a balanced and sane attitude towards shedding kilos. Plus, I've been able to 'meet' plenty of interesting people through this blog!

So thanks for your support for the last year... please do drop me a line and let me know what you've liked and haven't liked about the blog and what you'd like to see on here in the next 12 months!

xKitty

PS - Don't forget I'm still running Three Piece Suite's inaugural giveaway. To be in the running, become a follower of the blog and comment on any post. I'll draw the winner of the basket of fabulous health goodies when we hit 50... we're at 32 now, so maybe suggest your friends become followers too!

Michelle Obama: public enemy #1?

2010-02-03T11:05:00.004+11:00

Have you heard the news? The battle to protect kids' fragile self esteem apparently has a new enemy: America's First Lady.

That's right, folks. Michelle "two tickets to the gun show" Obama has been branded a bad parent by the readers of at least one international newspaper for "putting her daughters on a diet".

Launching an anti-childhood obesity campaign in the US last week, Mrs O revealed that she'd made changes to daughters Malia and Sasha's diets after noticing "something was starting to get out of balance". (Which probably tends to happen when you have a staff of chefs who'll whip up whatever your heart desires, and you spend your days globetrotting with the leader of the free world.)

"In my eyes I thought my children were perfect - I didn't see the changes," Michelle said. But changes there were so, for the sake of her daughters' health, she implemented a few ground rules: fewer burgers, water instead of sugary drinks, and more fruit and low-fat dairy.

In other words, a totally sensible diet for girls aged eight and 11. That's not "putting your kids on a diet"; it's called making sure they eat well.

But judging by the comments posted in response to a newspaper article on the topic, the First Lady might as well have admitted she was chaining her kids up in the basement and making them eat bugs. "I would put down a bet now on these two girls having some serious body issues later in life," bleated one. "What kind of parent announces to the world that they think their kids are fat?"

Geez Louise, careful you don't fall off your soapbox there! Did Michelle ever say she thought her daughters were overweight? Um, that would be a NO. What she actually said was she adores her children and wants them to be as healthy as possible. Seems like a textbook case of GOOD parenting to me! I would put down a bet on Malia and Sasha growing up with an appreciation of healthy food and what it can do for your body.

I know I've been ramming these stats down your throat for aeons now, but let's just recap: ONE QUARTER OF AUSTRALIA'S CHILDREN ARE OVERWEIGHT OR OBESE. If only there were more mums out there like Michelle Obama, and fewer who think that chips 'n' nuggets and four hours in front of the Xbox is a healthy lifestyle for a child.

Rant over.

Je souhaite que j'aie été français*

2010-02-02T09:58:00.005+11:00

On Saturday morning, I rolled out of bed and took the dog for a walk. On my way back, I bumped into my neighbour and we had a bit of a chat. Nothing unusual in that, you might think. Except that, afterwards, I wanted to throw out all my clothes and hide away in my house until the end of time.

My neighbour, Lila, is French. She is lovely. And she is one of those French women who looks a million euros at all times. On the morning in question, for example, she was about to take her young son into town for a vaccination. She was wearing a beautiful skirt, a crisp white t-shirt with a collar and cute little tennis shoes. Her hair was tied back into a sleek ponytail and she wore just a couple of elegant, understated pieces of jewellery.

I, meanwhile, was wearing ripped cropped jeans, battered rubber thongs and a t-shirt that, owing to having been selected from the floordrobe, was covered in dog hair and was a bit whiffy. Owing to my cankle and the fact that I haven't been able to put any weight on my right foot, I hadn't shaved my legs for a week - and it showed. I had managed to wash my hair, but then I let it dry naturally so it had a birds-nest-meets-crazy-cat-lady thing going on.

In short, if life was a John Hughes movie, Lila would have been the rich, popular girl and I would have been Molly Ringwald's less cool best friend.

The thing was, I could tell Lila hadn't gone to any particular effort that morning. It's not like she'd spent hours in front of her bedroom mirror, obsessing over what to wear. We had both dressed for comfort and running around doing mundane errands - it's just that her version of a practical morning ensemble was a hell of a lot more pulled together than mine.

And it got me wondering... why do so many of us walk around not looking and feeling our best? I know I feel fabulous when I take the time to do my hair and slap on a bit of mascara and wear some cute heels. I read a lot of blogs by fellow vintage lovers, and these gals always look fabulous. Why don't I do that every day? OK, sure, it's not particularly practical dog-walking attire, but who's to say I can't ditch the shorts and thongs after the pooch has had his morning stroll? There's nothing to stop me brushing my hair and slipping into a pretty sundress to pop to the shops later on.

I know a lot of women who are struggling with their weight also struggle with this issue, and I've touched on it in previous posts. When you're overweight, the temptation is to drown your figure in enormous, shapeless sacks in nasty synthetic fabrics. But surely you don't feel good going out like that, just as I didn't feel good being "caught" with my prickly legs and my smelly t-shirt.

So since this month is about discipline, I'm going to set myself another challenge: I'm not going to leave the house unless I feel great in what I'm wearing. I'm going to make an effort. I am. Really I am!

* I wish I was French

Banning the booze

2010-02-01T09:16:00.003+11:00

I have found that sometimes it helps to state your grand intentions out loud. That way, people will keep tabs on your progress and you can't throw in the towel or you'll look like a big ol' quitter.

So with that in mind I'm saying it loud and proud this morning: I'm giving up booze for February.

Eeeek! That was scary... perhaps I'll just have a little drink to recover from the shock... just kidding! But seriously folks, I overindulged during the festive season, and then kept right on indulging throughout January. And the thing is, I've stopped enjoying it. You know that feeling when it's been a looooong week and that first sip of crisp chardonnay on Friday evening tastes so good because you feel you've really earned it? Well, I've forgotten what that feels like because I have a glass or two most days. Boring!

So I'm giving it up for 28 whole days. In weight-loss terms, skipping the plonk is a smart way to save calories. If you need to shed a few kilos and are watching what you eat, you really can't afford to be drinking your calories.

You can even help others through your booze ban by doing it for charity. So why not give it a go?!

Cankles

2010-01-28T09:23:00.004+11:00

Hello lovelies,

Apologies for my brief absence from the blogsphere. It's been quite a week! I had another unscheduled visit to hospital, this time after an altercation with a stingray in which I very much came off second best.

Cue Steve Irwin jokes...

Those of you who aren't Australian may not be aware that this past Tuesday, January 26, was Australia Day. This is where we all get a day off to celebrate what it means to be a true blue Aussie. For many (OK, most) of us, this means cracking a few tinnies* and/or hanging out on the beach.

This was Mr Kitty's and my plan so we took Tex the Wonderdog to our local beach, which is actually a tidal flat in Sydney Harbour. There we were, happily wading and chucking a tennis ball for the pooch, when I felt something wriggle beneath my foot and then BAM! That something stabbed me just beneath my ankle.

I knew immediately that it was a stingray, because the BAM felt serrated - I felt every jagged little edge plunge into my flesh, and then come back out again. I cannot even begin describe the pain - suffice it to say it was the most unbearably, excruciatingly agonising thing I have ever experienced, and it's not something I care to repeat anytime soon. I couldn't walk and had to be carried to the car by Mr Kitty and another lovely gentleman. And the blood... let me tell you, feeling the heat of your own blood gushing over your foot is not a pleasant sensation.

So my foot went all lumpy and purple and Mr Kitty whisked me to hospital, where they mercifully gave me some very strong painkillers and stuck my foot in a bucket of scalding hot water to disperse the venom. (Yes, stingrays have both jagged barbs AND venom! Aren't they wonderful?!) I had to have an x-ray to make sure there was no part of the barb left in my foot, then four hours later was sent home with a shitload of painkillers and antibiotics.

All in all, I've had better Australia Days!

Three days later, I still have a 'cankle' because the swelling is taking it's sweet time in going down. And it still hurts. And when I take the bandage off, I expect it will be all purple and gruesome looking... so I might do that, just to scare small children.

But you're probably wondering whether I managed to find a weight-loss lesson in all this? Why, of course! Actually, the lesson occurred to me before the stingray stabbing, and crystalized in the aftermath. And it is this: Australia Day is about celebrating the things that make us uniquely Aussie. Those things, at least as I see it, include our 'just get on with it' attitude and our bond of mateship.

Take Mr Kitty, for example. I got stabbed, he sorted it out. No freaking out, no sentimentality, just, 'The missus is bleeding, best do something about that'. And the mateship part was ably exemplified by the man who helped him carry me from the beach. This bloke didn't know me from a bar of soap, and there was the small fact of my bleeding like a geyser, but that didn't stop him pitching in and helping us out.

The moral of the story is we Australians are inherently good at just getting our heads down and getting things done, particularly when we're up against it. It's in our DNA or something. Remember that the next time you're procrastinating about exercise or eating well and just do it. It's the Aussie way!

* Drinking a few beers

Political correctness gone mad

2010-01-22T08:50:00.004+11:00

Is it just me, or is political correctness a huge, red, angry boil on the arse of society?

Seriously, it's just getting ridiculous. All these issues we get up in arms about - how many of us genuinely care? Not as many as stamp their feet and shake their fists because they think they're supposed to care, I'd wager.

Political correctness has claimed another victim today in the form of Australia's Next Top Model judge Charlotte Dawson, who has been internationally vilified for apparently saying terrible things about plus-size models.

Except, um, she didn't.

Dawson - who used to be a plus-size model - has been branded a larger lady-hater for saying that while a bigger girl may well win ANTM, she would still struggle to make it in the modelling biz. "We could have a plus-size model win the competition and she would end up doing catalogues for Target," she is reported to have said.

Ooh, let's all get our pitchforks and flaming torches and run her out of town, shall we? Well, we could - if only her comments weren't 100 PER CENT ACCURATE!

Charlotte's right - women who aren't size-0 stick insects do not enjoy the same degree ofsuccess in the modelling industry as women who are size-0 stick insects. Sure, there are many plus-size models who do very well for themselves, such as American clothes horse Crystal Renn. And thanks to the magazine industry's current cynical attempt to pretend they care about readers' body image, you might even see larger models in their pages for a little while to come.

But the harsh truth is you will NEVER see them strutting the catwalk for Dior or YSL (and definitely not Karl Lagerfeld). You just won't. And this is not Charlotte Dawson's fault.

Perhaps instead of hauling Charlotte over the coals for her comments - which she says she is "horrified" have been taken so grossly out of context - we should be looking seriously at why plus-size models don't seem to have any joy getting to the catwalk. And by seriously, I mean we need to look honestly at our obsession with thin, not just set up a pointless taskforce or show the occasional belly roll in a magazine.

And in the meantime, we all need to get down from our soapboxes and acknowledge that we all love those "Half their size!" cover stories as much as the next person.

Weight loss wars

2010-01-21T08:20:00.004+11:00

Weight-loss giant Weight Watchers has pulled on its proverbial boxing gloves and is preparing to go 10 rounds with its main rival, Jenny Craig. Let's get ready to rrrrrrrrumble!

In a civil suit filed in New York, Weight Watchers International claims Jenny Craig lied in a TV commercial that stated its weight-loss program was more effective than WW. The offending ad stars 1980s sitcom actress (and the former Mrs Eddie Van Halen) Valerie Bertinelli, who says - while dressed in a lab coat, so you know it's proper scientific - that "a mjor clinical trial" has shown that "Jenny Craig clients lost, on average, over twice as much weight as those on the largest weight-loss program", which means Weight Watchers.

Weight Watchers' claim says this is false, and that Jenny Craig did not conduct any trials comparing their product to the Weight Watchers program. As well as wanting the allegedly naughty ads yanked from the airwaves, WW is also seeking damages.

Of course they are, it's America.

I must admit I find this all pretty interesting. Part of me thinks Weight Watchers must be barking up the wrong tree - I mean, would Jenny Craig really go to the effort and expense of mounting a television campaign to besmirch their rivals if they didn't have the proof to back it up? On the other hand, of course, we don't know what this "major clinical trial" actually involved. Maybe they just sent Valerie Bertinelli (pictured) out in her lab coat to ask six people in a supermarket which program they liked best.

And if it does turn out that Jenny Craig has been fudging the stats regarding its efficacy? Well, that will further demonstrate that the weight-loss industry is all about selling, and that you can never really believe anything you read.

Whatever the result, it's sure to be an interesting battle. The gloves are OFF!

They made Jamie cry!

2010-01-20T09:26:00.004+11:00

So yesterday I posted my suspicions that overweight Australians are not as concerned about their size as they claim to be. And today comes proof that, in America at least, that's certainly true.

Around half of America's adult population claims to be worried about weight and actively trying to achieve a healthy weight. That's nearly 110 million people who are apparently counting calories and exercising regularly and keeping a watchful eye on portion control.

Except that none of these people live in Huntington, West Virginia, which is officially the fattest city in the US of A. More than half of the people in Huntington are obese - but try to offer them a solution to this problem at your peril.

That's what Brit celebrity chef Jamie Oliver discovered when he took his Food Revolution TV series to Huntington in a bid to show the residents how to swap their daily McDonald's drive-thru for a healthy home-cooked meal. When he showed vine tomatoes to local school kids, they identified them as potatoes. This is clearly a city that needs help, right?

Well, no. To say they weren't receptive to his efforts is something of an understatement. The good people of Huntington were so hostile towards Jamie's health crusade they actually made him cry. See how sad he looks? Poor Jamie.

One local radio presenter said of J.Ol: "We don't want to sit around and eat lettuce all day. I don't think Jamie has anything that can change this town. He can try all he wants."

Of course, the mere fact that the people of Huntington think eating rabbit food is the only way to lose weight speaks volumes. If anyone could benefit from Jamie's advice, it's this lot. But hey, at the end of the day it's not Jamie Oliver's business or anybody else's. If they want to be obese and at risk of heart disease, diabetes and premature death, let 'em.

But if they want to raise their children with the same unhealthy habits and put them at risk of these chronic illnesses, surely someone - whether it's Jamie Oliver or the school system or the US government - has a responsibility to step in?

Don't worry, be chubby

2010-01-19T08:51:00.007+11:00

We're a big bunch of worrywarts Down Under, according to a new report.

Readers Digest magazine (go look in your nanna's bathroom - there's probably a big stack of them next to the toilet) surveyed 6,000 people in 16 countries and found that Australians worry more about their weight than anyone else.

Here's some analysis of the results from the Sydney Morning Herald:

Half of us say we care much too much about our waistlines, but at the same time we secretly wish our partners would lose a few kilos.

A majority of Australians have tried to lose weight at least once - unsurprisingly women more than men - and about 40 per cent of us feel constant pressure to be thin.

There's also a fear that being fat could affect our performance at work.

A hefty 52 per cent said excess weight "seriously impacted" their sex lives - more than any other country except Mexico, which came in equal first with Australia.

On a global scale, Australians were among the biggest dieters, the survey revealed.

Eighty-one per cent of women have tried to shift the kilos at least once, as well as 63 per cent of men - ranking Australia fourth among the 16 countries surveyed.

Interesting stuff, right? What's more, 20 per cent of Aussies have popped diet pills in a bid to shed kilos, while 60 per cent prefer starving themselves to eating the occasional salad and going for a stroll. Evidently we will do whatever it takes to achieve a healthy weight...

Except, am I the only one who thinks we actually won't?

If so many of us are so consumed by the desire to be slimmer, how come so many of us are still so fat? We are now the fattest country in the world. More than half of Australia's adult population - and a quarter of all kids - are now overweight or obese. Somehow it doesn't appear that all this stressing about being fat translates into actually doing something about being fat.

Meanwhile, an Australian Consumers Association study conducted by Lausanne University in Switzerland found that women underestimate their weight by an average 3.5kg and men underestimate by around 2.2kg.

In other words, we're telling ourselves we're slimmer than we are. Perhaps we're telling ourselves we're more concerned than we really are and are working harder than we are to lose weight, too?

Brain, meet body

2010-01-18T10:15:00.005+11:00

My lovely friend Kylie had her first baby a month ago, a gorgeous little girl called Gracie. In a former life, Kylie was a smoker and, not long before Gracie arrived, she told me she would never, ever smoke another cigarette.

You may not find this overly surprising - after all, plenty of new parents give away their unhealthy habits once they have a helpless little being they want to nurture through to adulthood, right? Sure, but while Kylie certainly falls into this camp, wanting to be around to see Gracie grow up was not the main reason she decided to give up the cancer sticks.

No, Kyles stopped smoking because being pregnant - growing another human being - gave her a whole new respect for her body. Now that she's seen what her bod is capable of, she told me, she doesn't want to disrupt the work of that well-oiled machine with hideous chemicals ever again.

Have you ever noticed how we seem to think of our body as somehow separate from the rest of us? We talk bits of it as if they're not part of the whole package: 'I hate my thighs' or 'my wobbly belly is the bane of my life'. It's like we think it's just this lump of flesh we're obliged to put up with because it carries our brain around.

I've always found it weird, for example, that when I'm sick I don't immediately know what's wrong with me. Surely, if I have a belly ache, my stomach should be chatting with my brain about that: 'Oi brain - that fish you let her eat last night? Yeah, that was nasty'. We divorce ourselves from our bodies and, at times, even imagine they're conspiring against us.

This is especially true of losing weight. You might go to the gym three times in a week but if you don't see a noticeable reduction in thigh size, you'll be all, 'Damn you, thighs! Why are you doing this to me?!' Seems mad when you think about it, doesn't it?

The reason I'm telling you all this is diet pills. The Therapeutic Goods Administration (TGA) has ordered doctors to stop prescribing Australia's best-selling weight-loss pill, Reductil, because it could be, um, fatal.

Yes, fatal.

A two-year TGA trial resulted in almost 200 reports of adverse reactions to the drug. Reductil - which is taken with meals to increase the amount of fat excreted - has been linked to strokes, high blood pressure, thyroid problems, anxiety and at least one death in Australia.

In short, it's bad news - as are, in my opinion, any chemicals that will allegedly help you lose weight. Aside from the fact they can potentially kill you, you just don't need them. You don't need drugs to stop your body from absorbing fat - what you need is to eat less bad fat and more good fat, eat sensibly-sized portions and exercise.

It's like purposely filling your car up with diesel when it runs on unleaded petrol. Why disrupt your body's finely-tuned functions with shit when you KNOW which fuel will keep it in perfect working order? Do you see how arse-about-face it is to poison your body in your quest for a healthier life?

The moral of the story is this: work with your body, not against it. Remind yourself that your brain and your bod are a team. Treat yourself well and the weight loss will come. Popping pills is not the way: who wants to be a skinny corpse?

Get real tips needed: see your name in print!

2010-01-14T09:47:00.003+11:00

Today I'm turning the blog over to Lisa Jackson, author of Running Made Easy (buy it! Buy it NOW!), runner of ultra-marathons and all-round awesome woman. Lisa is seeking to add an 'international flavour' to her new book, and needs your help...

Hi there, my name is Lisa Jackson and I’m looking for contributions
for a new slimming book I’m writing that will be published in January
2011.

My previous book, Running Made Easy, has been the best-selling
beginners’ running book for the past five years and I’m hoping my new
book will be similarly successful. My book will show readers how to
slim the healthy way by featuring a nutritionally sound eating plan by
a top nutritionist, an easy exercise routine and a hypnosis CD (I’m a
qualified clinical hypnotherapist).

From the feedback I received for my first book it became apparent that
what readers enjoy most is reading about how other people who’ve
tackled the same challenge they’re facing have succeeded. This is why
I’m writing to ask for your help in supplying me with the ‘it worked
for me’ tips that have enabled you (or your friends) to lose weight
healthily – and keep it off.

Each contribution needs to be as quirky/different/unusual as possible and be accompanied by your name, age, occupation and town/country you live in. As space is very
limited, I will have to edit all contributions (which should be about
100 to 150 words long). Unfortunately I’m not able to pay anyone for
quotes but if your quote is chosen for inclusion I will email you to
let you know what the title of the book is and the exact date of
publication so that you can see your name in print. Please feel free
to pass on this email to anyone you know who’d like to inspire others
to slim the healthy way.

The topics I would welcome quotes on are the following:
My top slimming/exercise tip
How I broke through a plateau
How I’ve kept the weight I’ve lost off

Please email me on quiet.medicine@googlemail.com with your quotes. I
very much look forward to reading them. Warm regards, Lisa Jackson

PS Below is an example of the kind of thing I’m looking for. Please
don’t forget to include your name, age, occupation and the
city/country you live in, along with your email address.

‘During my first session with my personal-trainer he hoisted a huge
15kg (2st) weight into my arms and asked me to imagine walking around
with it strapped to my back all day. When I laughed and said it was
impossible, he said: ‘‘Well Marissa, I think you’ll find that you’re
already doing it!’’ And I realised that being 15kg overweight, he was
right. Over the months of training I kept myself motivated by picking
up dumb-bells equivalent to the amount of weight I’d lost. And when I
finally lost the 15kg, I once again picked up that heavy weight and
did a small victory lap around the gym – I was chuffed to bits that
I’d managed to lose that much.’ Marissa Curtis, 40, admin assistant,
Aberdeen

‘One of the ways I decided to trim calories was to have skimmed milk
instead of semi-skimmed milk with my breakfast cereal and in the
gallons of tea that I drink throughout the day, but I kept forgetting
to take some to work, and when I did, my colleagues were forever
nicking it. Then one day I had enough and finally got round to phoning
our security staff who’re responsible for ordering the milk and asked
them to request that at least half our milk allowance be skimmed. Ever
since then I’ve saved 84 calories on the 500ml milk I have a day, the
equivalent of two Jaffa Cakes.’ Grace Thorndike, 44, PA, Liverpool

Beeyoodiful people

2010-01-12T09:53:00.003+11:00

So far, this is the frontrunner for the funniest thing I've heard this year.

American dating website BeautifulPeople.com has sparked controversy by ditching 5,000 members - because they put on weight over the festive season. I don't know what I find more hysterical: the dumping or the furore caused by the dumping.

You see, BeautifulPeople.com is a dating service for attractive folk only. When you apply to join, your aesthetic appeal is rated by the existing members of the site. If they decide you're a hottie, you're in. But if the verdict is that you're a nottie - sorry, it's back to speed dating for you.

Political correctness dictates that we should all shudder in revulsion at BeautifulPeople.com, and shake our fists at the injustice of it all. But actually, I kind of admire these people's balls.

I mean, seriously, how much of an arrogant, sycophantic wanker do you have to be to firstly believe you're, like, totally drop dead gorgeous, and to secondly crave the approval of a bunch of like-minded preeners? It's actually a very Three Piece Suite-style ethos to put your cards on the table like that, to accept your shallowness and announce to the world, 'There's nothing going on upstairs, and I'm cool with that'. These people are getting real for sure.

Frankly, BeautifulPeople.com is doing the rest of us a favour: by herding these conceited, haughty princes and princesses into one place, those of us who want more from a partner than a six-pack or a pair of fake funbags know where not to look.

When you think about what sort of vacant, twisted souls must surely sign up for a service like this, it's really no surprise that anyone audacious enough to gain a couple of Christmas kilos gets the boot. People who gain weight during the holidays are people who know how to have fun, to break bread with their nearest and dearest and get sozzled on eggnog. Somehow I don't associate the word "fun" with people whose chief aim in life is to marry someone as pretty as they are.

So I think BeautifulPeople.com should be applauded. They've just put back into the gene pool 5,000 people who have wobbly bits like the rest of us, and who aren't afraid to use 'em.

Giveaway still going!

2010-01-11T16:44:00.002+11:00

Don't forget about the first-ever Three Piece Suite giveaway...

For your chance to win a basket of healthy goodies valued at more than $100, simply become a follower of the blog and leave a comment on any post.

I'll be drawing the winner when we hit 50 followers!

Blah blah skinny model on mag cover yada yada yada

2010-01-08T10:07:00.005+11:00

So if you're not from Australia - or you've been living on Mars for the past week - you may have been lucky enough to have been spared the furore surrounding Jennifer Hawkins' nude sojourn as Marie Claire's latest cover model.

Here's the controversy in a nutshell: MC has jumped on the 'ooh look, we're all about REAL women' bandwagon by sticking the un-Photoshopped former Miss Universe on its cover in her birthday suit as a sort of role model for women with flaws. Cue all kinds of outrage from women with actual flaws - ie pretty much anyone who has never been crowned Miss Universe - quite rightly pointing out that a six-foot bronzed supermodel isn't exactly representative of the average female form.

MC editor Jackie Frank defends the mag by saying putting Jen on the cover was not about trying to depict a 'real' figure (there's that term again - ugh), but simply about showing that even people who are perceived as having knockout bods have body hang-ups. Ergo we should all stop wishing we looked like J.Hawk 'cause she's just like us. Or something.

For her part, Jen says she simply did the cover to raise money for eating disorders charity The Butterfly Foundation, and had no idea it would cause so much upset. (She probably should have had some idea, given this is her bread and butter, but hey ho.)

This ongoing curvy vs. skinny magazine debate bores me rigid, it really does. Personally, I don't care who's on the cover of a magazine (unless it's Keira Knightley - will she just go away please?), but I feel like, by constantly analysing who's a good role model and who's not, we're just pouring fuel on a fire that really needs to be extinguished once and for all.

So to save myself having to rehash the same old arguments here again, I thought you might like to hear from clinical psychologist Lesley Russell, who had this very eloquent letter published in my local newspaper yesterday:

'SINCE when has a tiny increase in a woman's waist been defined as a flaw? Isn't this a normal body part?

The controversy over Jennifer Hawkins' naked body on a magazine cover should not be about whether the image has been retouched or not.

The real controversy is that we are still living in a society where women's bodies are blatantly objectified and now put on show to be scrutinised for so-called flaws. Ordinary women's bodies are seen as even more unattractive and unacceptable when a beautiful model's body is scrutinised in this way.

I'm more concerned by the promotion of unrealistic female flaws than by the promotion of unrealistic female ideals. These days most women and girls are smart enough to know when images of female bodies are retouched and unrealistic. Unfortunately our physical and psychological health and wellbeing are more vulnerable to the promotion of the mysoginistic view that normal female body parts are actually flaws that must be pointed out, criticised and atoned for.

I have been treating clients with anxiety, depression and eating disorders for the past 12 years. Unfortunately poor body image is a major factor in these disorders for many women and girls. It causes serious distress and dysfunction in all aspects of their lives.

It never ceases to amaze me how critical women and girls can be of their normal bodies and how much distress they experience due to the hatred of and inability to accept their normal, healthy bodies.'

I'm so with Lesley on this one. Whether Jennifer Hawkins is representative of the average female form or not, the point is who cares? The more we obsess about these issues, the more obsessed we become with what we look like, when what we feel like should be the real issue. You don't look like me, I don't look like you. Can't we just accept that and move on?

Oh appetite, wherefore art thou?

2010-01-06T10:25:00.003+11:00

I must be the only person in the world who actually lost weight during the festive season. And, sadly, it wasn't through any sensible eating plan or exercise regimen. Rather, a steady onslaught of stress and anxiety has thoroughly killed my appetite for the past few weeks. It's a thing in my family - when the going gets tough, we all stop eating.

Perhaps it's because I'm an only child that I value having my own space and uninterrupted time to myself above most other things. Lately, I haven't had much of either of these things and, I'm a little embarrassed to admit, I haven't coped especially well with having people in my face 24/7. Add to this the fact that my lovely Granny passed away on December 30 after a short but aggressive illness (I had to go to Adelaide yesterday for her funeral, hence the lack of post) and I've not been an especially happy camper thus far in 2010.

It's at times like these that taking proper care of yourself becomes even more important. Some people turn to food when they're stressed; I go the other way and can barely choke down a bit of dry toast. Neither option is healthy. I know that, in a week or so, my life will start to return to normal, and in the meantime I've got to make a conscious effort to properly fuel my body.

There's no real point to this post... it's just me getting a bit Jerry Springer on you and urging you to take care of yourself, and each other.

It'll be all sunshine and rainbows tomorrow, promise!

Starting as you mean to go on

2010-01-04T09:46:00.004+11:00

Happy 2010 lovelies!

My word, I love January. For a resolution junkie like myself, this month is like heroin. Think of all the challenges I can set for myself! The changes I could make! The wondrous things I might achieve, like world peace and, um, giving up Butternut Snaps.

Really, I have just one main resolution for this first year of the new decade, and it is this: in October, I'm going to turn 30. And when I do that, I want to do it looking better than I have in my entire life. This means 2010 is going to be all about health, fitness and semi-regular waxing.

Of course, my plans are a little more specific than just 'look awesome by October', but I'm not going to bore you with the details here. The point is there are details - there has to be in order to be successful. Thus commences my little tutorial in goal setting...

Goals must be three things: realistic, specific and measurable. Let's break it down like Vanilla Ice:

* Realistic: So you quite fancy having Jennifer Aniston's upper arms, Heidi Klum's thighs and P!nk's abs of steel. Hey, don't we all. And maybe it's even possible, if you're willing and able to spend the next five years doing nothing but exercising and eating salad. But really, who can be arsed with all that? If some superstar figure is really what you have your heart set on, I'm afraid it's likely you will be disappointed. Aim for a healthier, leaner and more toned version of the rockin' bod you already have, however, and chances are you'll be toasting your success come next New Year's Eve.

* Specific: 'I want to be thin,' you say. Or, 'I want to get fit'. Ooookaaaay... eight-year-old girls are thin. Do you want to look like an eight-year-old girl? Marathon runners are fit - does running 42km sound like your idea of fun? If the answer to these questions is no (and I sincerely hope it is), you need to break your ambitions into smaller, more bite-size pieces. So instead of saying 'I want to be thin', you might say 'I want to lose 10kg by June 30'. Instead of 'I want to be fit', try 'I want to be able to jog a lap of my local park without feeling I'm about to pass out'. Then get cracking.

* Measurable: Another problem with setting yourself vague, non-specific goals is that it's virtually impossible to measure your success. How will you know when you're 'thin' or 'fit' unless you have a benchmark? You must be able to chart your progress or, chances are, you'll become frustrated by not having any sense of how you're doing and will chuck in the towel. So give yourself a deadline or nominate a particular task you want to be able to accomplish or a certain item of clothing you aim to fit into. My yardstick is my birthday - all roads and efforts to look awesome lead to October 3, 2010!

I'd love to know what 'get real' resolutions you've set yourself for the coming year... what say we all pitch in and do it together?!

Jingle bells

2009-12-22T08:38:00.002+11:00

G'day gang!

Just a quickie to wish you all a safe, happy and healthy Christmas... sure, you can eat til you're comatose on Friday, but cool it from Boxing Day and try and squeeze in a walk or two, m'kay?

See you back here in 2010 for another year of getting real and getting slim!

Merry Chrimbo!

xKitty

It's Santa's fault you're fat

2009-12-17T17:33:00.006+11:00

News flash: Santa Claus is making us fat.

You read it here first, folks. Father Christmas, jolly old St Nick, 'im whose belly jiggles like a bowl full of jelly - he is the reason the western world has a weight problem.

This is according to Australian misery guts - sorry, academic - Dr Nathan Grills, a public health fellow at Monash University's Department of Epidemiology and Preventative Medicine. He says Santa promotes obesity and a sedentary lifestyle, and glamorises being fat because he's synonymous with good cheer and joviality.

In short, Dr Grinch - sorry, Grills - says Santa sets a bad example for kids, much like that creepy, heart attack burger-peddling Ronald McDonald.

To be fair, he is talking about the rotund and ruddy-cheeked Santa invented as an advertising gimmick by Coca Cola in the 1930s - not the actual St Nicholas, who was less about pimping expensive tat to children and more about peace, love, harmony and whatnot.

But still, saying Santa's bad news? That's like saying puppies are evil or chocolate cake's been saying mean things about us behind our backs. Methinks we should be addressing some of the more pressing issues related to our collective obesity - like the fact that portion sizes are roughly four thousand times bigger than they used to be - before we go pointing the finger at Big Nick.

This is got to be close to the ultimate abrogation of responsibility for our weight woes. Blaming Santa indeed! Are we supposed to chow down on celery sticks instead of pudding on Christmas Day? Should I serve my family delicious tap water instead of mulled wine as we gather around the tree?

Ho-ho-hell-to-the-no.

Moany moany

2009-12-16T18:11:00.004+11:00

And while we're on the subject of people who will apparently never be satisfied where weight is concerned, meet British teen Malissa Jones, who had a government-funded gastric bypass operation and now says she wishes she'd stayed fat.

Her pre-op diet consisted of eight Mars Bars, 10 packets of potato chips, several sandwiches and takeaways from the local chip shop - that's a neat 15,000 calories every single day. Malissa weighed 215kg at the age of 17 and - after having her first suspected heart attack at just 15 - became the youngest Brit to have the A$18,000 operation when she went under the knife two years ago.

But get this - now she says she's tres miserable and preferred her body when she was morbidly obese. 'I know it sounds ungrateful, but... at least (my body) was firm and curvy, not droopy and saggy. I had nice firm arms - now the skin just hangs and I have to cover them up because they look so awful,' says Malissa, now a size 16.

Um, yeah. Two things: firstly, Malissa is right - she does sound massively ungrateful and, frankly, I can't believe she would have the audacity to publicly complain about her country's health system footing the bill for her own bad lifestyle choices. Secondly, her 215kg body wasn't curvy and firm. It was fat. That's not me being mean - it's just the truth. When you tip the scales at 34 stone, the only reason you might think you look firm is because your skin is stretched to absolute capacity.

What's more, Moaning Malissa is annoyed because the NHS (that's the UK equivalent of Medicare, Aussies) won't stump up the A$36,000 for excess skin removal surgery, and she can't afford it herself. And why can't she afford it? Because she's given up work, natch!

The bottom line is Malissa would have died if she hadn't had this surgery. But apparently the trifling matter of being alive is useless if you can't wear a bikini.

Make up your mind!

2009-12-15T10:54:00.005+11:00

Everyone knows one of those people who just whinges all the time. About everything. They may hate their job, for example, but do they try to get a new one? No, they just stay in the loathed position and complain about it. Constantly.

I can't help but feel this interminable 'should we ban skinny models from the media' debate is the social equivalent of the bore who never stops moaning. It just seems that, whichever way it goes, we want to pick it apart and say it's not good enough.

Case in point: pop culture website Jezebel today takes issue with American magazine V's latest issue, which features plus-size model Crystal Renn (pictured) on its cover. Jezebel blogger Dodai says this is a rubbish move by V because plus-size models still aren't representative of plus-size women.

I'm not quite sure what Dodai is getting at... is s/he suggesting we ban attractive, toned, sex-kittenish size-16 bombshells from the pages of our favourite glossies and replace them with the greasy-haired, tracksuit bottom-wearing, flabby size-28 women that populate suburban shopping centres the world over? Would that make everyone happy?

I can tell you right now, it ain't gonna happen. Fashion magazines are aspirational and escapist. Sure, we might want to see ladies in them who are a bit more reflective of readers than a Russian supermodel, but do we really need to see gals who look exactly like us in order to be happy? Don't we have any imagination? Can we not just be pleased that the big bad magazine put a woman with actual hips on its front cover at all? Ever heard of being grateful for small mercies?!

And by the way, Crystal Renn is a woman, ergo she is representative of at least some plus-size women.

For crying out loud, people! Which way do you want it?! Either you want to see anorexic stick insects replaced by curvier women in magazines, or you don't. Make your sodding minds up.

Christmas cheer

2009-12-09T16:02:00.003+11:00

A big, big THANKS today to Nikki from super-awesome blog Flair to Remember and Haley from v. cool online boutique About A Girl for picking me as the winner of their $100 shopping voucher giveaway.

My lovely, lovely friend Tash, whom the voucher is destined for, is over the moon!

Thanks ladies! x

I think, therefore I SUCK!

2009-12-08T15:34:00.005+11:00

A new study conducted by a UK current affairs program has found women have an average 252 negative thoughts about their appearance every week. That's a whopping 36 sessions of self-flagellation over their face, body or themselves in general every single day.

When I first heard this I was all, 'Are they serious? What woman has the time to devote that much of the day to berating herself?' But then, when I actually thought about it, I realised it's probably spot on.

Let's be clear - this study didn't just monitor how many times women thought 'I have a fat arse'. No, it kept tabs on the far more insidious negative thoughts we gals like to assail ourselves with daily. For example, I have not as yet received a single solitary Christmas card. When the postman again failed to deliver today I briefly wondered, 'Do my friends all in fact secretly hate me?' Under the parameters of this study, that's me being well negative about myself.

So then, of course, I simply had to think back through my day to all the other moments I've given myself a hard time. And it looks something like this:

9am: Wake up. Damn, it's 9am! Meant to wake up earlier than this. Will now miss 9.30am pilates class. Am lazy and disorganised. Gah!

9.01am: My sodding sprained foot still hurts. A lot. Probably should stop going to the gym until it gets better, as per clever doctor lady's instructions. But will obviously get enormously fat!

9.10am: Breakfast with parents-in-law. I really, really hope they go out today. Love them, but kind of want to throttle them. Am horrifically unpleasant daughter-in-law clearly not worthy of their son.

10am: Walk dog. In flip flops. Not ideal footwear for bearer of sprained foot. Foot hurts. Stupid, stupid foot! Why is my body so rubbish and traitorous?!

11am: Arrive home to empty house. Hurrah! A few in-law-free hours. There I go again - why am I so mean?

11.30am: Have shower. Check my naked self out in the mirror. There are no thighs in the entire universe that are bigger than mine. Make unimpressed faces at my reflection.

11.40am: Peer at skin blemishes. Um, did I become 13 again without noticing?

12.30pm: Ring nutritionist for pre-arranged interview. She's not ready. Spend two minutes telepathically cursing her for messing up my schedule, then feel guilty. Who am I to assume my time is more valuable than hers? No wonder no one sends me Christmas cards!

1pm: Watch Oprah show about jeans for curvy women. Convince myself my thighs would still look like bollards in them.

1.30pm: Eat tinned spaghetti and meatballs for lunch. Feel guilty for not eating a salad sandwich or some other healthy-yet-boring thing. Poke flabby bits for effect.

1.31pm: Eat two Mint Slices. Poke flabby bits some more.

2pm: Interview nutritionist. She's really lovely and helpful and I feel even guiltier for thinking mean things earlier.

3pm: Catch sight of air-dried hair in mirror. I think Tina Turner's missing a wig.

3.30pm: Write blog post while feeling uncomfortably aware of bloaty stomach. Think mean thoughts about Mint Slices.

And that pretty much brings us up to speed. That's 14 negative thoughts - 28 if you take into account the fact that I had to trawl back through my day and re-think them for the purpose of this post - and it's only 4pm. Who knows what cheerful little cherubs will have flitted through my mind come bedtime?!

How do you stack up on the negative thought-o-meter?

And furthermore...

2009-12-07T16:16:00.003+11:00

It's deadlines a-g-go at Casa Kitty today, hence the lack of a proper post. But I have my parents-in-law staying with me at the moment, from Ingerland, and it's reminded me of a point I've been meaning to make for some time.

Aussie-based Brits, puh-leeeeease stop telling us that it doesn't feel Christmas-y because it's so hot. If your Christmas spirit is solely dependent on the weather, there's a cold, grey, miserable little island in the northern hemisphere just waiting for you.

Meanwhile, for roughly 22 million Australians, it feels pretty damn Christmas-y right about now.

That is all.

Window or aisle, sir?

2009-12-04T08:29:00.005+11:00

This photograph has emerged online today and is sure to spark all kinds of heated debate. It was taken by a frustrated air waitress who wanted to show the bigwigs running her airline why obese passengers should be made to buy a second seat.

The hostie who took the pic says this guy is a big ol' safety hazard, as he could prevent people getting down the aisle in an emergency.

When I flew to Adelaide a couple of weeks ago, I was seated in an exit row next to two of the most enormous women I have ever seen. When one requested a seatbelt extension, the hostie politely explained extensions are not able to be used in exit rows as they could be a hazard in 'the unlikely event of an emergency'. The two large ladies had no option but to move to a different row where the requested seatbelt could be used.

I couldn't help but wonder... when a stranger announces in front of a plane load of people that your size is a safety issue, do you perhaps think, 'Hmmm, maybe I need to do something about this'? Judging by the looks on the faces of my obese rowmates, the answer was no. The women just looked like they wanted to punch the poor air waitress in the face.

Anyway, what do you think of this pic?

Stuff I know about weight loss

2009-12-03T08:11:00.003+11:00

Sometimes it’s useful in life to take stock. To work out what you’ve learned so far, and what you have yet to understand. As you may have gathered from Tuesday’s post, I’ve been doing a bit of that lately. Mostly because I’ve been sitting on the couch for so long my bum actually hurts.

Anyway, I thought I’d take stock by making a list of what I’ve learned about weight loss..

* The weight-loss industry is built on repeat business. Tony Ferguson and his ilk don’t want you to succeed – they want you to fail, so you’ll come back again.

* The more implausible, expensive and complicated a diet plan is, the more people will fall over themselves to try it.

* Any exercise equipment advertised during a morning TV show and purchased in ‘easy installments’ is destined to gather dust under the spare bed.

* Most people who have a weight problem are unable or unwilling to accept they have anything to do with it. Accepting responsibility is out; looking for a scapegoat is in.

* There is no such thing as a quick fix. Repeat: There. Is. No. Such. Thing. As. A. Quick. Fix.

* If you are obese and you think you are happy, you are lying to yourself.

* You cannot be ‘fat but healthy’ long term.

* The duller it is, the more likely it will work. Yes, salads and regular exercise are as boring as batshit. But they’ll get the kilos off and keep them off.

* Most people view the process of losing weight as deprivation and punishment rather than a willing sacrifice that creates an opportunity for a better life.

* Losing weight does not need to cost any more than the price of a basket of healthy groceries. You do not need to buy voodoo shakes, frozen goo (aka ready meals) or any fitness equipment with the words ‘pro’ or ‘blaster’ in its name.

* You do not need to detox. Your kidneys, lungs and liver are quite capable of doing that for you.

* It’s not glandular or hormonal or metabolic - most people are overweight because they eat too much and move too little.

* Picture the amount of food you put on your dinner plate every night. Now picture half that amount. That’s how much you should be eating. Portion control is key.

* Yes, subsisting on 800 calories a day for three weeks will make you skinny. But the moment you start eating actual meals again, you will gain weight. Healthy living is not a short-term thing.

* Any eating plan that requires you to swap real food for drinks is grade-A bullshit.

* There is no need to wait until Monday or next month or next year. Start today. Right now.

And perhaps most importantly…

* No one can lose your weight but you. Stop expecting others to do it for you. The power is within YOU.

Sick of myself

2009-12-01T15:27:00.004+11:00

Do you ever have those days where you're just, like, over yourself? Where you wonder whether you wouldn't in fact be better off living on a tropical island or in an ashram or on Mars or something?

I am having one of those days.

It's undoubtedly been prompted by the foot spraining/stabbing incident and the fact that I'm trapped in my house because it hurts too much to walk anywhere. I'm bored and none of the things I can think of to get un-bored are particularly interesting to me, including blogging.

I definitely have a case of blogger's block - it seems to be going around at the moment, as several of the bloggers I most admire are saying the same thing. Maybe it's this time of year - 'tis the season to be pissed off and filled with ennui.

I'm wondering whether I should continue with the blog in the new year. My posts attract very few comments these days, which makes me wonder if anyone is picking up what I'm putting down, y'know? Have I said all there is to say about getting real and getting slim? Or is everyone simply too busy with mince pies and dreams of summer holidays to worry about health and weight loss at the moment?

I'd appreciate your thoughts on this, dear readers. Should I stay or should I go?

Worst weekend ever?

2009-11-29T16:18:00.006+11:00

So how was your weekend? Mine started off brilliantly... and then went careening downhill.

It was Mr Kitty's birthday on Thursday so, as a belated part of the celebrations, I treated him to a pub crawl through Sydney's historic Rocks neighbourhood on Saturday. ('Cause, you know, I'm such a classy bird!) We ate, we drank, we got decidedly merry.

When we got home, I set about whipping up my famous spaghetti bolognese. But the pan was too hot and when I threw in the minced garlic, it hissed and fizzed and spat magma-hot oil and garlic all over me. In a fit of pain-induced pique, I aimed a good, hard kick at my kitchen wall.

And broke my foot.

Actually, as it turns out, the foot isn't broken - it's 'just' badly sprained. But at the time I thought I'd busted it, and I continued to think so all damn night as I tossed and turned and tried to sleep with an ice pack strapped to my throbbing, swollen hoof.

Woke up, still in agony, at 7am and decided it might be prudent to head to my local hospital's Accident and Emergency Department and get the foot looked at. So I did - lovely Mr Kitty came with me, and we sat there together for FOUR HOURS until I finally had a 12-second x-ray and was sent home with a truckload of Panadeine Forte.

If I may divert from my tale of woe for a moment here... what the hell is going on with our public health system?! Fortunately, I don't often have cause to visit hospitals - and I'm glad, because my local is in a right old state. Aside from being possibly the drabbest, scruffiest and most depressing building I've ever been forced to sit in, I was staggered by the inefficiency of the place. Don't get me wrong - I realise that a four hour wait is not that bad compared to some of the A&E horror stories I've heard. But why did it take four hours to take a photo of my foot and give me some painkillers?! And would it have killed them to pop their head out every now and then - say, oh, ONCE in the entire time I was there - and let me know what was going on?

Anyway, I got home - having had to cancel lunch with a mate from Melbourne who was only in town for the weekend - and resumed my ice pack/moaning schedule. After a while, I felt a little better, so I hobbled into the kitchen to fetch myself some lunch.

Whereupon a magnetic picture frame fell off the fridge and stabbed the big toe on my injured foot. Proper stabbed it! Cue Kitty swearing like a docker while trying to mop up the pool of blood with paper towels. If I wasn't so thoroughly enraged and in so much pain, I might have seen the funny side.

As you may have gathered, this post doesn't have much to do with weight loss. Except in the sense that I'm banned from the gym for at least a fortnight lest I bugger up my foot any further, and am at a loss as to what exercise I can do to keep the chocolate biscuit-induced kilos at bay. (Because, believe me, chocolate biscuits are the only thing keeping a smile on my face at the moment!) Any ideas for an effective no-impact fat-burning workout?!

OK, rant over. Time to go strap a bag of frozen peas to my foot again.

A memo from the Ministry of the Bleeding Obvious

2009-11-27T08:32:00.003+11:00

Researchers at the University of New South Wales have revealed the earth-shattering results of a study on high-fat and sugary foods.

They make you feel good.

I know - try not to fall over from the shock of this astonishing news. The boffins say these naughty treat foods appear to be able to change the chemicals in the brain to aid relaxation and calm anxiety.

So what they're really saying is comfort foods are comforting.

And how many of my tax dollars did it take to figure this one out?!

One angry burger

2009-11-26T08:41:00.004+11:00

There is only one word for this: Ew.

Hungry Jack's is in the firing line over its latest coronary inducer, the Double Angry Angus Burger. They should have called it the Double Angry Arteries Burger, because that's what you'll have if you shove one of these down your gullet.

Look at it. Just look at it. Have you ever seen anything more revolting? It contains 5.6 grams of salt - nearly one and a half times the daily salt target set for adults by Australia's national health authority.

It's also dripping with 26 grams of saturated fat. I can feel my cholesterol shooting up at the mere thought of it. The recommended daily intake (DI) for saturated fat is 24g, so this one burger is already 2g above that. But the DI for saturated fat is part of - not in addition to - the recommended 70g DI of total fats, which includes 'good' fats like those found in oily fish. So if you choose an Angry Arteries Burger, you're almost halving your opportunity to consume fats that can actually do something useful for your body.

Also, I know it's not up to Hungry Jack's to make sure we all eat well, but what are they even thinking putting this monstrosity on their menu? They could at least pretend to give a toss about this country's skyrocketing obesity rates.

Look, let's get real here. One of the secrets to a happy, healthy life is 'everything in moderation', which means you can afford to relax your diet and enjoy a treat every now and then. But there is no place in even the most balanced diet for this heart attack on a plate.

Don't eat it. Just don't.

Burgers on the big screen

2009-11-25T09:12:00.004+11:00

Here's a thing I've noticed: you don't see people smoking in movies anymore.

Back in the day, from the earliest days of film right up to the 1980s, pretty much everyone on both the silver and small screens had a cancer stick clamped between their lips at all times. Now that we know smoking ciggies is a quick route to a painful death, it's been all but obliterated from filmed entertainment. And when you do see it these days, it's quite shocking. Like, when I first saw the permanent smoke haze on THE BEST TV SHOW EVER, Mad Men, I was all, 'Whaaaa?! Don Draper, what are you thinking?!'

This got me thinking about the portrayal of other disgusting habits in films and TV shows. Have you noticed there's not that much drinking on Australian screens nowadays? Sure, American sitcoms still feature redneck Yanks with a 'brewski' apparently surgically attached to their palms, but homegrown programs - particularly soap operas - take a very different view. Take Home & Away, for example. How many times have we seen a character's inner turmoil manifest as five minutes of alcoholism? (Which is invariably cured after being called a flamin' galah by Alf Stewart.) Certainly in locally made shows aimed at young people, the heavy-handed message is that booze is for losers. Dude.

So if we've realised that sucking on tar and poisoning our liver is not something we want to be glamourising on our screens, I can't help but wonder whether being a big fat slob will be the next thing to be phased out of flicks. Are we going to see actors chowing down on salads instead of burgers? Will the stars of rom-coms discuss their relationship woes over a Step class instead of cocktails?

Have we yet reached the point where eating sh*t and sitting around is as passe in a cultural sense as smoking and binge drinking?

To be honest, I can't see it happening for a looong time yet. Think what it would do to the industry! How many films and TV shows feature scenes in a diner, fast food joint or greasy spoon cafe? Can you imagine Pulp Fiction's 'bad ass mother f***er' scene taking place in, say, a Sumo Salad outlet instead of a burger joint? And there'd never be another Guy Ritchie movie if East London chippies were off limits.

But it'll be interesting to see whether we ever get sick enough of being obese and unhealthy that this filters down to movies and TV programs. Motion pictures hold a mirror up to society, so theoretically it could happen. Fingers crossed it does.

Get your priorities in order

2009-11-24T13:58:00.004+11:00

Yesterday the interweb was broken across my whole suburb, which meant I couldn't update the blog or do any work (and yes, I realise what a sad state of affairs it is that, only a decade or so after its inception, lack of internet makes my job virtually impossible). At first I freaked out a little, and tried to assuage my email withdrawals with copious cups of tea and chocolate biscuits. But then a funny thing happened...

I did stuff with my day.

That's right, I achieved things - things I usually either don't do at all, put off until the absolute last minute or rush through in a half-arsed fashion. I did an extra-long gym workout. I had a piano lesson. I walked Tex the Wonderdog THREE times. I made a delish curry in my slow cooker. I sorted out Mr Kitty's birthday present. I vacuumed my whole house and disinfected my kitchen benchtops.

It was ker-azy, I tell you!

And all this got me thinking about priorities. Work is, of course, a priority for all of us - a girl's gotta eat and have pedicures and buy shoes, after all. But how many of us convince ourselves it's our only priority at the expense of all the other useful things we could be doing with our time?

I interviewed a fascinating bloke last week for a feature I'm writing about overthinking things and he asked a very pertinent question: How crazy is it that we don't have time - or think we don't have time - to invest in our health and wellbeing, which are, frankly, our biggest assets? He's right; it's nuts. Going to the gym and walking the dog and preparing nutritious meals should be at the very top of our priorities list - not somewhere down the bottom, after putting in an 80-hour week and working on that stomach ulcer.

If I'd really wanted to, I could have spent yesterday at a local internet cafe. But you know what? I am SO glad I didn't. Because spending just one day without technology and deadline pressure reminded me that, actually, I like vacuuming. Well, okay, I don't like vacuuming per se - but I like spending time on maintaining my home, and I like the serenity that comes with a clean, tidy living space.

Oprah's decluttering guru, Peter Walsh, once said to me 'there's never enough time but you can always find more time'. So true. From now on, I'm going to try and find more time to look after myself.

Kate Moss is the devil. Apparently.

2009-11-20T09:48:00.005+11:00

Now, I'm no great fan of Kate Moss - explain to me how wearing jeans and a top makes you a 'fashion icon'? - but I feel I must come to her defense today.

Mossy is copping a load of stick for allegedly encouraging young women to become anorexic and bulimic. Her crime? She revealed to fashion website WWD that her motto for staying in shape is 'nothing tastes as good as skinny feels'.

Call me crazy, but isn't this precisely what healthy living advocates have been saying for, ooh, about a million years? Aren't we forever being told that we should put down the Big Mac, tear up the Thai takeaway menu and forgo the pizza because, no matter how delicious all those things are, the short-lived pleasure of stuffing one in your gob pales in comparison to a life of feeling - and looking - healthy?

Don't we always hear that willpower is the name of the game where losing weight and keeping it off is concerned?

So maybe Kate 'Pram Face' Moss wasn't especially eloquent, but wasn't she just echoing what the anti-obesity campaigners have been saying all along?

Meanwhile, I recall erstwhile Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler saying the exact same thing in an interview a few years back, and no one accused him of attempting to corrupt a generation. Could it be because there isn't the same pressure on famous blokes to be flawless role models for the young folk?

If we want to label Kate Moss a bad role model, there's loads of things we can pick on other than her desire to be slim. Like her penchant for druggie loser boyfriends. Or the fact that she evidently has very little time in her busy partying schedule to wash her hair.

Also, how is Kate expressing a personal opinion the same thing as telling other people they ought to subscribe to her beliefs?

Seems like yet another instance of people refusing to accept responsibility for their own issues and instead trying to pin the blame on someone else. Because that's such an effective way of taking control of your life.

So Kate, I'm on your side this time. Even if you do insist on wearing hotpants.

Back in a jiffy

2009-11-19T10:24:00.001+11:00

Ahh, the wonders of modern technology. Today's post is brought to you by the wireless network at Adelaide Airport, where I'm currently waiting to board a flight to Sydney - and just in the nick of time, as it's going to be a ridiculous 43 degrees here today!

Anyway, apologies for my brief absence from the blogsphere. I've been enjoying a few days with the fam in my hometown. But will be back on deck shortly and it'll be business as usual!

Ta ta!

Carnage in the kitchen

2009-11-16T08:29:00.005+11:00

Welcome to Kitty's Kitchen Nightmares...

Yesterday I had some friends round for lunch. It should have been a chilled out catch-up with mates - and it was, but only after a morning of chaos.

First the Pyrex dish in which I was preparing my Greek-style lamb roast exploded as I was putting it into the oven. Exploded! I didn't drop it or knock it or speak to it harshly; it literally just burst of its own accord. Cue a kitchen covered in tomato sauce and teeny shards of glass, and a chef in a very bad mood.

While Mr Kitty cleaned up the kitchen (bless his little cotton socks), I raced to the supermarket up the road to buy all the ingredients again so I could start from scratch. Among these ingredients were two tins of tomatoes, one of which proceeded to explode all over me two seconds later.

So now we have one shattered Pyrex dish and one irate chef who is also covered head to toe in diced tomatoes.

I finally got through the recipe, got the lamb into the oven and reserved half a cup of tomato sauce in a Pyrex jug for phase two. (Hmm, maybe Pyrex is the problem here...) As I started to clean up the kitchen, obviously I knocked the jug over and it went flying, covering everything in sauce once more.

Let's recap: one shattered Pyrex dish, one sauce-covered chef in a very bad mood without the filling she needs for the five ramekins of baked ricotta she still has to prepare.

What I wanted to do at this point was fling the sodding lamb out the window and tell my friends we'd be ordering pizza. But I didn't do that. Instead, I took a deep breath and carried on, eventually producing a very tasty lamb roast. My mates enjoyed it and, after a couple of rage-quelling glasses of vino, so did I. Before long, I was able to laugh about it (the wine may have helped in that regard).

My point, aside from wanting to share with you my tale of culinary woe, is that when the going gets tough it's soooo tempting to chuck in the towel, abandon your healthy eating efforts and gorge on grease instead.

Don't do it. Just drink wine instead.

Dear Gemma: You go girl!

2009-11-13T12:08:00.004+11:00

Aussie model Gemma Ward is rumoured to be hanging up her stilettos and quitting modelling for good after being called 'fat' by local and international media.

The name-calling started after Gemma, who was reportedly dating Heath Ledger at the time of his death, was photographed on a Byron Bay beach looking a whisper more curvaceous than usual. Which is to say she looked more like the 99.99 per cent of the female population who aren't paid to have their photograph taken than the .01 per cent who are.

That this photo was taken mere weeks after Heath died from an accidental drug overdose prompted the hecklers to be vaguely more sympathetic than they might have been otherwise. As in, the pix were accompanied by "sensitive" captions detailing grief-stricken Gemma's attempts to console herself with food, rather than brutal headlines calling her a fattyboombrakes.

Incidentally, don't you hate when the media does that? It's so two-faced. If you're going to be mean, just be mean. Don't pretend like you really care about someone's emotional wellbeing when blind Freddy can see you just want to laugh at their wobbly bits. Obviously it's better NOT to be mean but if you really feel compelled to say nasty things, at least be honest about it, y'know? Grow a pair and admit you're a biyatch.

But anyway, as I was saying, Gemma is reportedly over having her body scrutinised and is ready to walk away. Who knows if this is true - she's only 22; maybe she just wants to have a break and have a good time spending her money. Her spokesman says she "hasn't committed to returning to modelling anytime soon" but that doesn't mean anything. She's also an actress, so it could just be that she wants to focus on that aspect of her career.

Besides, Gemma seems like a pretty savvy young woman. I'm sure the comments in the press weren't the first criticism of her body she's had. Fashion people are notoriously frank; she's probably heard it all before and has become somewhat inured to it. Gemma's older sister, Sophie, is also a model, so it's reasonable to assume she had a bit of a heads-up as to the nature of the industry she was getting into.

What I'm saying is that I don't think Gemma is the fragile little flower recent media reports would indicate. If she's quitting modelling to do other things, good on her. A rich and interesting life is the aim of the game. But perhaps her epiphany was prompted by bigger things - such as the tragic loss of a man she cared about - than a couple of nobody bloggers calling her fat.

What's your thinheritance?

2009-11-12T08:40:00.005+11:00

These days, there's a clever term to explain every quirk of the human condition. The latest is 'thinheritance', which is the phenomenon of passing our body image neuroses and diet obsessions onto our children.

In a new UK survey of 500 girls aged 12 to 18 found that, while six per cent had an eating disorder, this rose to one in 10 among those whose mothers dieted. Four out of 10 admitted their mother was the biggest influence on how they perceived themselves.

Your parents entirely shape your view of the world. It stands to reason that, if you grow up in a house where your mum is forever moaning about her wobbly bits, you'll learn to regard your body with a very critical eye as well. Similarly, if dinner in your house was burger and chips every night, chances are you'll probably reach adulthood without a solid grasp of good nutrition.

Reading these survey results got me thinking about my childhood, trying to remember how it was in my house. I have to admit, I can't actually recall ever having a conversation with my mum about body image. She certainly never complained about her shape in front of me, nor did she criticise mine or make disparaging comments about overweight people. I do remember complaining about my thighs... often... and mum telling me not to sweat it, that my legs were perfectly A-OK.

I suspect this was a conscious thing on mum's part. She was always a very aware parent in terms of the messages she sent and the environment she created at home; I'm sure she was equally careful in teaching me how to feel about my body.

Consequently, I've got a pretty relaxed attitude about the way I look. Generally, I'm pretty pleased with the ol' bod. I have the exact same shape as my mum has had all her life, so I know there's no point driving myself crazy trying to get skinny legs - it ain't ever gonna happen. I like to exercise and to eat well. I love vegies but I hate fruit - there was rarely fruit in the house growing up, which probably explains my aversion to it. I also like to indulge in delicious food and plenty of good wine - as does mum - but I know where to draw the line.

So it's all good for me - no body obsession here. But I have close friends who are, frankly, seriously messed up about their bodies and, with the benefit of adult perspective, I can see their mums played a big part in that. One of my best friends has a bona fide vintage pin-up girl figure - she's a proper bombshell - but is consumed with loathing for her 'mummy tummy'. As a teenager, my friend's mum suggested to her that, if she wanted to lose weight, she should just become bulimic. Easy peasy!

What's your thinheritance? If you have lingering body issues, take a stroll down memory lane and try to identify whether they originate from childhood. I'm not saying we should blame ma 'n' pa for our body hang ups (goodness knows they shoulder enough blame from their kids!), but understanding where these things come from is the first step to getting over it.

I'll be right baaaack!

2009-11-11T09:39:00.003+11:00

Morning folks!

Week of deadline craziness... I am currently writing about pregnancy nutrition, overanalysing and evil supermarkets' attempts to ruin our suburbs. Not all in the same feature, I should point out.

Anyway, it's all a bit nuts and the blog has unfortunately taken a back seat. But I'll be back tomorrow, promise!

xKitty

Get your free stuff here!

2009-11-09T08:43:00.004+11:00

Merry Monday y'all!

Don't forget Three Piece Suite's inaugural giveaway is running at the moment.

Here's how it works. In my years as a health and weight-loss writer, I've accumulated a LOT of paraphernalia. I'm talking books, DVDs, fitness equipment etc etc. And I don't need all this stuff, so I thought you might like it!

I'm going to put together a hamper of 'get real' weight-loss goodies and give it away once I hit 50 followers. The dollar value will be in the region of $100+. To win, simply become a follower of the blog and post a comment. Easy as bro!

The winner will be drawn once the blog reaches 50 followers - we're at 27 now, so get your skates on (you existing followers will also be in the running, as long as you post a comment).

Good luck!

Getting personal

2009-11-06T10:58:00.005+11:00

I am in roughly 412 different kinds of agony today. And it's all my personal trainer's fault.

Ugh, that sounds uber-wanky, doesn't it? 'My personal trainer'. Who am I, Britney Spears? But it's true - for a brief period of time, I have a personal trainer. Brief because I got three sessions with him thrown in when I joined the gym round the corner. I was going to skip them but, well, I've paid for them so I figured I might as well.

I've always been a bit anti-PT. It seems weird to me to pay someone to watch me exercise. And the motivational aspect isn't there for me: if I'm feeling lazy enough to skip a workout, the thought of being shouted at by a stranger for an hour definitely won't change my mind.

Also, every PT I've ever met has been one of those musclebound morons who spews cliches like 'you can do it!' and 'feel the burn!' (Someone actually said 'feel the burn' to me once. I slapped him. Any sensible woman would have done the same.)

But, I must admit, I really enjoyed my first session with Calum yesterday. He's very friendly and he doesn't shout or spew cliches. He's a vegetarian Englishman with an actual sense of humour. And he looks uncannily like my friend Crawf, which endeared him to me immediately. (In fact, I think I started to think he was Crawf, and was perhaps a little more forthright in my assessment of his sadistic tendencies than was appropriate given he's actually a complete stranger.)

Most importantly, he made me do things that really worked. Things like squats and lunges and a thing where I had to pick up a medicine ball over and over until I thought my arms would fall off. These were things I wouldn't have known to do without Calum's guidance. And I definitely wouldn't have done them for as long or with as much intensity if he hadn't been looking over my shoulder. (There's no way I would have worked hard enough to be in this much pain had I been left to my own devices.)

Alas, I can't afford a PT on top of my gym membership once I've used up my three sessions. But if money was no object, I reckon I'd consider continuing with a weekly or fortnightly PT appointment. I feel like if I stick with the program Calum has devised, I'll get the results I want. But I know there's not much chance I'll stick with it without his supervision because, well, it really bloody hurts!

Geez, what's happening to me?! First I joined the gym after vowing never to step foot in one again. Then I put my PT prejudice aside and, lo and behold, found myself actually enjoying the experience. Who'd have thunk it?

This is what getting fit and healthy is all about: shaking up your routine and being open to the possibility that something you'd never considered might just work for you.

Dare to be different (Please! I'm begging you!)

2009-11-05T09:00:00.002+11:00

At the end of my street there’s a parade of shops that includes a small (and wildly overpriced) supermarket. In front of the supermarket there’s about half a dozen parking spaces. And no matter when I go to said supermarket – be it weekend or weekday, morning or night – each and every one of those parking spaces is occupied by an enormous four-wheel drive.

Each of these unnecessarily giant cars is as shiny as the day it left the factory because, of course, none has ever seen an unpaved road. Each transports a single occupant: a skinny blonde woman in her late thirties or early forties. She’s wearing black leggings (whether she’s been to the gym or not) and carrying a takeaway coffee.

Sometimes she might have one or two of her toddler offspring in the monolithic vehicle with her, in which case it will also have an in-car DVD system and space for a six-foot wide pram. The kids will be wearing Baby Gap, natch.

It’s not surprising that I always see these women and their stupid big cars at my local supermarket because, as I’ve discovered in the five months I’ve lived here, my suburb is populated entirely with them. I feel like I’ve moved to Stepford. It’s like there’s a rulebook for women born between 1968 and 1972: marry rich, have a couple of kids, buy a big house in the ‘burbs and drive a gas-guzzling tank.

Now, I don’t claim to be especially unconventional myself. But, around here, being married without kids, driving a hatchback (sometimes a Vespa), drinking instant coffee and refusing to accept leggings as a legitimate trouser alternative means I’m not so much a black sheep as your friendly neighbourhood devil worshipper.

To be honest, it makes me really sad. Why do so many women fit this supermarket stereotype? As far as I can tell, not one of them seems to realise she’s exactly like all the others. The lack of self-awareness is totally depressing. Did they all independently but simultaneously make the same life choices? Or are they just conforming?

It could be argued that, to successfully lose weight, a certain degree of conformity is required. You must, for example, conform to the accepted wisdom that eating less crap and exercising more will shift those stubborn kilos, right?

I don’t think so. Yes, there are principles of weight loss – but adapting principles to suit you is not the same thing as blindly following rules. As Robert McKee says in his famous book, Story: ‘A rule says, “You must do it this way”. A principle says, “This works… and has through all remembered time.” The difference is crucial.’

Story is a book about screenwriting, but the lesson is just as applicable to weight loss. The principles of losing weight are tried and true – eat right, exercise, expend more energy than you consume – but there are no rules. Instead, there are a squillion different ways you can apply these principles to your own life.

Where’s the rule that says you have to give up real food and start guzzling synthetic voodoo shakes just because your best mate did? Where is it written that you must run on a treadmill when you’d really prefer to swim in the sea? Who says you have to get your gym gear at Lorna Jane if Target is more your style?

No one. No one says these things. Just like no one tells the women in my suburb they have to drive a building on wheels. They just do it because everyone else does. We are herd animals; we’re hard-wired to follow the leader.

It’s weird because, when you think about it, conformity really has no place at all in weight loss – it’s really all about being as different as you possibly can. Eating differently, moving differently, thinking differently. If you’re struggling with your weight, doing what you’ve always done clearly isn’t working for you – so what have you got to lose by shaking things up a bit?

So today I’m begging you: go a little crazy. Do something you wouldn’t ordinarily do. Wear your shortest shorts to the gym. Ditch yoga and ask the beefy blokes in the weights room to show you how it’s done. Eat salmon, even though you didn’t like it the last time you tried it – in 1983. Leave the car at home and walk to work. Walk the dog yourself instead of making the kids do it. Accept that you’ll never use that AbCirle Pro and sell it on eBay.

GET RID OF YOUR NEEDLESSLY MAMMOTH FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE AND BUY A FORD FESTIVA.

For goodness sake, just break the mould.

Nutjobs say what?

2009-11-04T09:39:00.004+11:00

You know how sometimes you hear about stuff and you think 'surely that doesn't actually happen'? Like, surely celebrities don't really tip off the paparazzi about their own whereabouts. And people didn't seriously buy Paris Hilton's album, did they?

I had one of these moments last week when I read a column in The Punch by Daily Telegraph chief-of-staff Luke McIlveen, which detailed his experience of being verbally abused by passersby as he exercised in his local park.

Surely that doesn't actually happen?!

But apparently it does, because after Luke's column came a whole raft of comments from other outdoor exercisers who've also copped abuse when working out in public.

No! Not really?!

Yes, really. Apparently this sort of thing goes on all the time. According to Luke, some of the people who heckled him live near the park and are irate that the peace of the morning is regularly shattered - SHATTERED, I tell you! - by inconsiderate people doing such outrageous things as running on grass and, um, push ups.

Those who don't think they have a 'legitimate' reason for harassing strangers are just weirdos.

I can't quite get my head around this. Suspending my disbelief for a moment and accepting that there are indeed nutters out there who hurl insults at people who value their health, all I can say is... are you f***ing serious?!

Sure, sometimes it winds me up that when I stroll along the beachfront I have to stop every few metres to allow a gaggle of joggers to pass, or that I can't ever sit on a park bench because some personal trainer is making a pudgy businessman do tricep dips on it. But would I go to all the trouble of having a go at these folks? Of course not!

For a start, we live in a country where more than half of the adult population is now overweight or obese. A quarter of our kids are obese, too. People who exercise should be encouraged. We should gather around pudgy businessmen and applaud their efforts. We should line our local jogging tracks and wave motivational placards.

Besides, public spaces are for public use. Yes, people who wish to use them need to be considerate of other users and nearby residents - but running a few laps of the local reserve is hardly staging dog fights in the kiddies' playground, is it?

By the way, many local councils - mine included - charge fitness trainers an annual fee for putting clients through their paces in public areas. Those fees go towards funding services and facilities that even exercise-haters make use of, such as garbage collection and pothole-free roads.

But let's take exercise out of the equation for a second. Would these people take strangers to task over any other issue? Would they, for example, pelt an artist with stones because he had the audacity to set up his easel in a picturesque spot? Would they snatch a book from a fellow commuter's hands if they didn't like the title? I don't think so. So why on earth do they think they have the right to have a go at people working out? Haven't they ever heard the old adage 'live and let live'?

I hope next time I'm jogging, one of these freaks dares to take me on. Be warned: Kitty's claws are out!

In training

2009-11-03T13:14:00.003+11:00

I've just been to the gym. While there, I overheard several people talking about their 'training'. They weren't hardcore-looking athletes, just regular people. So I couldn't help but wonder what they think they're 'training' for.

Have you noticed how this word has increasingly replaced plain old 'exercise'? Training is the preparation you do for a specific event or task. Doing a Step class once a week is exercising. It's like people who say they're going 'travelling' when they're really just going on holiday.

But hey, if telling yourself you're in training gets you on that treadmill day after day, by all means train away. Whatever blows your hair back, y'know?

Warning: Scary lady lives here

2009-11-02T08:28:00.004+11:00

I made the mistake on Saturday of expressing in my Facebook status that I wasn't looking forward to Halloween. Specifically, I wrote that I was unlikely to respond kindly to the hordes of trick or treaters who would inevitably come to my house, demanding sweets.

Turns out expressing such a sentiment makes me Ebenezer Scrooge's less compassionate cousin. The ensuing Facebook outcry took me by surprise, to say the least. Well, outcry is probably a bit of an overstatement - but about half a dozen friends posted comments calling me a big ol' meanie.

My issues with Halloween are many. It's an American tradition, for a start. (Yes, I know the origins of Halloween are pagan, but the dressing-up-and-looting-your-neighbours bit is firmly Yankee Doodle Dandy.) I think it's a shame Aussie kids don't get as excited about Australia Day or Anzac Day (which does have delicious biscuits, if that's what hooks the kiddies.)

Plus, you know, Australian children are getting fatter. Twenty-five per cent of kids are now classified as overweight or obese. So encouraging them to gorge themselves on lollies one night a year probably isn't sending the best message. Especially when said night is an adopted tradition that we could easily do without.

But my chief problem with Halloween is the rudeness of it. I just think it's really inappropriate to go to a stranger's place and demand stuff. I mean, if I got peckish and knocked on your door asking for snacks, you'd tell me to get stuffed, wouldn't you?

So there you have it: my anti-Halloween argument in a nutshell. Bah humbug.

I'm so confused!

2009-10-30T09:17:00.005+11:00

So in the same week that scientists decree that men prefer curvy women, famous curvy woman Cindy Crawford says she'd never make it as a model these days because curves are well and truly out of fashion.

Huh?

It's bloody confusing, isn't it? This whole issue of body image and healthy weight. One minute we're told thin is in; the next it seems fat is where it's at. And where does that leave your average Joanne?

Psychologists at St Andrews University in Scotland photographed dozens of female students and asked male students to rate their attractiveness. They found that - despite the apparent size 0 trend - the blokes categorically preferred the ladies of average weight and build.

Which means women like Scarlett Johansson and Jennifer Lopez are hotter in mens' eyes than whippet-thin 'slebs like Victoria Beckham and Keira 'If I pout constantly maybe people will think I can act' Knightley.

You might think this is cause for the millions of "average" ladies out there to rejoice. But hang on a second...

Cindy Crawford, one of the original supermodels, says it's all bollocks. Cindy - who personnified the healthy, all American girl look of the 1990s - says she looks too healthy to have made it big in the fashion biz in 2009. "A body like mine, with big breasts, normal thighs and toned upper arms, is no longer what the industry is looking for," Cindy says.

She's right about that. Emaciated, vacant women who look more like eight-year-old boys are evidently the look du jour on catwalks today.

But how can this be? Why do fashion designers and the fashion media think we want to see skinny chicks when your average red-blooded male in fact prefers a more abundant figure?

The disconnect could be in the audience. The fashion industry is pitching to women, whereas film stars like ScarJo et al appear to men. Guys are the ones who tend to be ticket-buying film geeks, and they're certainly the ones who buy magazines like Zoo, which are all about the va-va-voom curves.

But that would imply that women want to see stick insects modelling this season's hottest look - and aren't we forever hearing that women are desperate to see "real women" on catwalks and in fashion magazines?

(Incidentally, have you seen model-turned-TV-presenter Sarah Murdoch on the un-airbrushed cover of this month's Australian Women's Weekly? Cynical attempt to boost flagging sales much? As if AWW gives a toss about women's self-esteem.)

Are we all a bit quick to cry "foul" against the media and the fashion industry when it appears we can't decide what we want?

It makes my head spin, it really does. What's your take on all this?

In da club

2009-10-29T09:04:00.006+11:00

I don't think anyone genuinely likes nightclubs. Why would you? They're way too loud, way too crowded and way too full of people whose chief aim for the evening is to make some baaaad decisions. Now that I'm an ancient 29, I'm pleased to report my clubbing days are well and truly behind me. Give me a pub with a cheesy cover band over strobe lights and doof-doof music any day.

Having said that, there's a new nightclub trend emerging that I am very curious to see: clubs for fat people. In America (where else?), clubs that cater to overweight and obese clientele are cropping up all over the place. While these venues don't exclude healthy-weight partygoers, they claim to be especially welcoming of fuller-figured peeps. Proprietors say heavy guests are made to feel they fit right in.

The clubs attract crowds of people who are more than happy with their size, like curvaceous 23 year old Monique Lopez. "Self conscious? No! Not at all!" Monique says. "I was like, 'I'm going to Club Bounce tonight (and) I'm going to wear my shortest skirt!'"

Fat acceptance advocates in the US say that, while these clubs are great, what's not so great is that so many overweight and obese people struggle to be allowed past the velvet rope at "normal" nightclubs. They claim fat people constantly fall victim to elitist door policies, which deem only the youngest, prettiest and slimmest folks suitable for entry.

I don't quite know what to make of this. On the one hand, everyone deserves the opportunity to socialise in an environment where they feel comfortable. Clubs for overweight people are no different to, say, women-only networking groups or film screenings just for mums with young (screaming) kids.

But on the other hand, are overweight people being a bit sensitive? Everyone who attempts to get into a nightclub is judged on their appearance - even permatanned blonde stick insects. I went to an uber-hip Melbourne club with some girlfriends a couple of weeks ago and the door bitch hassled my mate because she was wearing ripped jeans. We didn't get all indignant and rush off to launch a club night just for people in torn clothing; we just went somewhere else.

I can't help but think of Little Britain's Daffyd, "the only gay in the village", who is wrongly convinced nobody accepts him because of his sexuality.

People can be cruel and I've no doubt that overweight people who go to trendy clubs have been on the receiving end of some nasty comments. But does that mean they should segregate themselves? When I ask myself whether I'd want to go to a nightclub just for people like me - people with brown hair or asthma or big scars on their right hand - I'll be honest, I can't think of anything more boring.

What do you think?

School's in

2009-10-28T09:31:00.004+11:00

Do you ever have those dreams where you're late for an exam and you haven't studied? Or it's your first day at school and you just can't seem to get there? You feel all anxious and panicky but then you realise, 'Hang on, I'm twenty nine - I don't go to school anymore!'

Is there any greater feeling than waking up and realising you don't have to write 2000 words on the role of women in ancient Rome after all? I think not.

I have these dreams all the damn time. I'd love to know what they mean - I'm sure a shrink would have a field day. So it's perhaps somewhat perverse that I'm currently working on an application for a place on a two-year graduate diploma course, starting next year.

I didn't go to university (my work experience is what qualifies me to go in at postgrad level) so I effectively haven't cracked a textbook since 1997. Needless to say, while I'm excited about the prospect of learning something new, I'm also seriously apprehensive about going back to school. Even though I haven't actually submitted my application yet, I'm already obsessing about all the things that might make this a really bad idea.

What if I don't like it? What if I'm no good at it? What if it's too hard? What if I realise straight away that it's not for me, but I have to stick it out for two whole years? And the big one... what if my fellow students are all pretentious wankers? (It's an arty course, so this is likely.)

Of course, what's driving my neurosis is the fear that I won't enjoy being outside of my comfort zone. It's going to be hard work and, like all humans, I'm geared to avoid exertion and discomfort at all costs. Deep down, I would probably prefer to just have a nice, easy life.

But if I don't put myself out there - if I take the nice easy life option - then I probably won't meet the like-minded mad writers I'll cross paths with on this course. I won't learn anything. I won't be exposed to all sorts of new ideas. I almost certainly will not have access to the career opportunities these studies will afford me.

Of course, there's every chance I'll send off my application and not get into the course anyway. But at least I'll have tried.

In short, if I don't step outside of my comfort zone I will be passing up the chance to change my life for the better.

There are massive parallels here with losing weight. Hopefully I don't have to spell them out.

Random thoughts

2009-10-27T08:17:00.004+11:00

Today is one of those 'all over the place' kind of days. I've got guys here wallpapering my bedroom, 11 feature articles to sub-edit and an application to prepare for some study next year. Perhaps not surprisingly, my thoughts are a little all over the place, too. Here, in no particular order, is what's on my mind today...

1. I spend a lot of time beating myself up for not being creative enough. Creativity to me means writing novels and painting pictures and crafting crafty things. But then again, I am a professional writer. And what is asking the right questions, extracting the salient points and stringing them together in a fresh and informative way if not creative? My point is I've realised I need to spend less time berating myself and more time making use of the skills and tools that I have. What I'm looking for is already within me. The same goes for you and losing weight.

2. I have a gorgeous but obviously slightly unhinged friend who thinks running 42km for no reason is fun. Said friend has just jetted into New York to run the Big Apple's marathon on Sunday. She had this to say about her journey: "Gee, Americans are big. One lady couldn't fit in the toilet on the plane. Motivates me to run more!" I think there's something in that for all of us, don't you?

3. Why do people insist on pronouncing crooner Michael Buble's name boo-blay? Surely it should be bubble?

4. Aussie healthy fast food chain Sumo Salad has a genius new ad campaign, which parodies those "every cigarette is doing you damage" anti-smoking TV commercials. Sumo's ad goes inside the guts of a burger fiend to show what all those icky trans fats do to the body. It's very CSI and very, very clever.

5. We're more than halfway towards racking up 50 followers for the blog. Don't forget, when we reach 50 I'll be drawing the winner of the first ever Three Piece Suite giveaway, a hamper of health and weight-loss goodies. To be in the running, simply become a follower and comment on a blog post.

The wisdom of Tex

2009-10-26T08:44:00.004+11:00

My dog, Tex, is a fussy little bugger. When we first brought him home, a 10-week-old ball of ginger fluff, he didn't eat for two days. In a panic, I rang the breeder - who told me he probably just didn't like what was on the menu and was holding out for something better. Sure enough, when I switched from dull dry food to juicy chicken, he practically inhaled it. The cheek.

Even now, at nearly two, he leaves most of his dry food untouched. It doesn't seem to make much difference: the vet says he's the perfect weight. But sometimes he'll scoff the lot. I used to think he was just a contrary little so-and-so who enjoyed making me waste 80 per cent of a $40 bag of food. But then I realised something...

When he's hungry enough, he eats the dry food. When he's not hungry, he doesn't eat it.

Everything I need to know about weight loss, I learned from my dog.

Can I get a hallelujah?

2009-10-23T10:20:00.005+11:00

There are three things they say you should never discuss at dinner parties: religion, sex and politics. Detonate any one of these conversational bombs and you're apparently guaranteed fireworks. (If you're having dinner at my place, this list also includes musical theatre. Do not even get me started on musicals. What is the point of them? Just when the story gets going, it's interrupted by a naff song. Rubbish.)

Well, today I'm going to break the cardinal rule of small talk and tell you why I think religion is a) stupid, and b) like weight loss.

Bear with me - I have a point, I swear.

I have a problem with organised religion. I want to be clear here: I do not have a problem with faith or belief in God. I just don't get why we're told the only correct way to express this faith is to sit in a drafty church every Sunday, read a musty old book and follow a bunch of archaic and arbitrary rules. I just can't imagine that God would say, 'You must build giant, expensive houses in which to worship me and cram them with priceless art and artifacts - or it doesn't count'.

Did you know the art and property in the Vatican is worth an estimated $50 billion? That would make a significant dent in erasing African debt. How is that fair?

But my biggest issue with organised religion is that it encourages people to abrogate responsibility for themselves. If you're a devout Catholic or Anglican or Muslim or whatever, you're told that your god is all powerful, that nothing you do makes any difference because it's all part of a bigger plan. To that end, you need never make a decision and can behave as badly as you want because it's all being sorted out by 'im upstairs.

It confuses and concerns me that organised religion wants you to look everywhere but within yourself for guidance, for comfort and for the answers to life's big questions.

And here's what I think all this has to do with shedding kilos: if you fail to realise that the power is inside you, you're not going to solve your weight-loss riddle. If you look to the gods of Tony Ferguson and Jenny Craig, and worship at the altar of voodoo shakes, you're going to be searching for that elusive 'sign' forever.

Stop waiting for someone else to solve your problems. Look inside yourself - that's where the answers are. Amen!

Striving for perfection

2009-10-22T10:13:00.006+11:00

It has been suggested to me on more than one occasion that I'm a perfectionist. It's a fair assessment: I try to do everything well and, yes, have been known not to attempt things at all if I'm not confident I'll succeed at them. I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

But my perfectionist tendencies pale in comparison to go-getting Brit Paul Mason. Paul, 48, is one of the world's heaviest men, tipping the scales at 445kg. But wait! There's more. He got that way on purpose.

Yes, you read that right. This bloke ate excessive amounts of food - including an enormous lunch AND dinner at his local fish 'n' chip shop each day - because he wanted to be officially recognised as the fattest guy on earth.

Three years ago, Paul lost 120kg with medical assistance - but wasn't happy with his new, ahem, slimmer frame, according to hospital staff. "When he left he moaned he was missing the chance of becoming the world's heaviest man," an insider says. "And when he got home he ordered takeaway pizzas, curries and Chinese meals. He was often seen going through the McDonald's drive-thru section for cars in his special wheelchair."

Ah yes, the wheelchair. The custom-made chair was funded by British taxpayers, as was Paul's modified home. It's estimated the costs associated with his obesity total more than $175,000 per year. Now Paul needs surgery to reduce his appetite or he will certainly die. The operation he requires will cost more than $35,000 - and will also be taxpayer funded.

Look, I'm not having a go at Paul. Really, I'm not. He clearly has deep psychological issues and as a civilised society we have a duty of care to helping him resolve those. BUT I do think it's unfair that taxpayers should be forced to continue to bankroll Paul's illness, particularly as he has access to ample medical assistance and evidently chooses not to take it. I've blogged before about the concept of mutual responsibility: I'm happy for my taxes to fund free healthcare, but people who have the ability to reduce their need for it have a responsibility to do so, as far as I'm concerned.

Paul's story also follows on nicely from yesterday's post about obesity now being so common it's perceived as "normal". Is it normal for a man to engage in competitive weight gain? I don't think so. I don't think anyone could possibly think so. So what the hell are we going to do about it?

PS - Yesterday was the second-highest number of hits on the blog ever. Thanks for reading! Do keep coming back - and tell your friends!

'To be normal is the ideal aim of the unsuccessful'*

2009-10-21T09:30:00.004+11:00

I guess it had to happen. I suppose it was inevitable. But it's still a crashing disappointment. A Brisbane researcher has found that obesity is now "so common it is perceived as normal".

Associate Professor Leonie Callaway surveyed 412 pregnant women and found 30 per cent were either overweight or obese before they fell pregnant. Of those, 36 per cent said they thought their weight was normal. Just 16 per cent of the women whose weight was in the highest BMI category said they thought they were obese. More than half had seen their doctor for a check up before they fell pregnant, but just 17 per cent could recall their GP recommending they lose weight.

For the record, being obese can make it harder to conceive. It can also lead to complications with pregnancy such as gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia and delivery problems.

But the real issue is this scary word, "normal". I don't get how obesity can really be the norm.

Technically, Leonie is correct. The dictionary definition of "normal" is "conforming to the standard or the common type" and, with more than half of Australia's adult population now overweight or obese, it seems the common type is indeed fat. (Remember Life. Be In It's obese cartoon poster boy, pictured? Is it a coincidence that his name was Norm?)

But, to my mind, "normal" is more than that. I think that, as well as the numbers, there has to be an acceptance. Being nice rather than nasty to each other is normal, for example, not just because the majority of us do it, but because the majority of us accept that it's the appropriate behaviour. It's the basic principle of civilised society: systems work because we believe they work.

Which means that, where obesity is concerned, we're not only getting bigger, we're apparently cool with that. We've grown (pardon the pun) to believe that it's okay, that it's a reasonable way to be. That's what I don't get: how and why have we convinced ourselves that it's super-fine to be uncomfortable, unhealthy and unable to do all the things we want to do?

But hang on, maybe we haven't. Judging by the continued fevered expansion of the diet industry in this country, not all of us feel that being overweight or obese is the norm. Plenty of us are still determined to shed those unwanted kilos - and many of us will do anything to do so.

So if being overweight or obese is now perceived as normal, perhaps signing up for an endless cycle of dieting, losing and regaining weight is, too. Which normal would you prefer?

* Carl Jung, Swiss psychiatrist

It's freebie time!

2009-10-20T10:00:00.003+11:00

Everyone likes getting something for nothing, right? And every blogger likes getting lots of readers who post lots of comments and spark lots of interesting debate.

So in the interest of attempting to achieve all of these things, I've decided to launch the first ever... drum roll please... Three Piece Suite giveaway!

The winner will be drawn once the blog reaches 50 followers - we're at 17 now, so get your skates on (you existing followers will also be in the running, as long as you post a comment).

Good luck!

Sty of the Tiger

2009-10-19T15:04:00.004+11:00

I went to Melbourne on the weekend and, on the way back, Tiger Airways lost my luggage. Which means I have no deodorant or toothbrush or tweezers to tame my currently caterpillar-esque eyebrows.

Which means I feel too disgusting to do anything but sit in my house in my own filth.

Which means I won't be posting til tomorrow, when I will allegedly have my bag back and will at last be as fresh as a daisy.

See you then.

Plus-size Pretty: Christina Hendricks

2009-10-15T10:09:00.003+11:00

Do you ever wish it was 1960? No. Must be just me then.

But if I could have swanned around looking as foxy as today's plus-size pretty, then I think I'd rather have enjoyed the swinging sixties. Meet Christina Hendricks, aka Joan Holloway from THE BEST SHOW IN THE HISTORY OF TV, Mad Men.

I have a serious girl crush on 34-year-old Christina. Who wouldn't? She is dayum fine. As cool-as-a-cucumber office manager Joan, she rules the roost at Sterling Cooper Advertising and turns heads in her curve-hugging, jewel-toned frocks. This is a woman who knows how to flaunt what she's got.

As a size 12-14, she's hardly 'plus size' in real terms, but in TV-land the fact that Christina is undeniably seen as a sex kitten is nothing short of miraculous. May there be many, many more va-va-voom bombshells like her on the small screen.

Meanwhile, I'll be on eBay trying to find a dress that makes me look this good.

Ajay or Hayley: who is the biggest winner?

2009-10-14T09:53:00.004+11:00

All this argy bargy over whose fault it is that women don't like their bodies gives rise to an important question: in the 21st century, just who are our role models?

I mean, if we're officially not allowed to admire thin models and celebrities and aspire to look like them, what are our alternatives? I can't be bothered igniting the whole Beth Ditto/obese-celebs-are-just-as-unhealthy-as-rail-thin-ones argument again, so I'll just precis my previous point on that front: dangerously overweight women in the public eye aren't setting us much of an example either.

So that rules out as role models all the famous folk at the extreme ends of the body spectrum. Who's left? The approximately 5,999,999,999,000 ordinary women out there, perhaps? Well, yes, but most of us aren't likely to decide we want thighs like the woman who runs the local coffee shop or our kids' school principal. Rightly or wrongly, when we think of body heroines, most of us gravitate towards public figures - perhaps because it's easier to find pictures of them to stick to the snack cupboard. (The coffee shop lady might find it a bit weird if you suddenly started snapping pix of her.)

I'm thinking about role models because Ajay Rochester is in the news again. For you non-Aussies, she's the desperate-for-fame former host of the Australian version of The Biggest Loser. And this week she's got her knickers in a twist because local gossip rag Woman's Day has published months-old pictures of her in a bikini, allegedly with her "stretch marks" and "baggy skin" on show for all to see.

Most of us would be mortified if shots of us in swimwear were splashed across a national magazine, but that's not Ajay's problem - she posed for these pix, after all. No, her issue is that these pix have popped up in the same week as rival magazine New Idea put Ajay on its cover (pictured), also in a bikini and with a suspiciously smooth, stretch mark-free bod. Can you spell 'airbrushing', Ajay?

Ajay, who once weighed 140kg and now claims to weigh 53kg, got paid a lot of moolah for the New Idea spread, in which she talks about finally winning her weight-loss war. So it's understandable that she'd be miffed these other pictures, which seem to suggest her New Idea look is NOT all down to hard graft, have surfaced. She's threatening to sue WD and all sorts.

Now, I'll tell you upfront that I'm no fan of Ajay Rochester, whose real name is Leigh Towler, because she was always exceptionally rude to the staff of my magazine. But my personal opinion aside, it concerns me that Ajay is the sort of 'ordinary woman' struggling slimmers might look up to.

Yes, she lost a lot of weight. Yes, she was a struggling single mum who achieved a modicum of fame and has now moved to America, where she is reportedly stalking Oprah Winfrey in a bid to get famous there, too. I suppose those things are admirable, in the sense that she realised she needed to change her life so she went out there and changed it.

But at what cost? If the gossip mags are to be believed, Ajay is reportedly poised to have $30,000 worth of cosmetic surgery procedures, including liposuction and a tummy tuck. She also faced trial for welfare fraud (though no conviction was recorded). She chucked a bit of a wobbly when she was dumped as host of The Biggest Loser, too. Is that the kind of role model you want?

Meanwhile, we have champion Olympic swimmer Hayley Lewis announced as the new Biggest Loser host. Hayley, a mum of two, says she would cringe in embarrassment when forced to stand on the winners' dais in her swimming cossie. The 35-year-old weighed 74kg at her heaviest and slimmed to 63kg through healthy eating and exercise. Hayley seems approachable and down-to-earth; there's not a whiff of that desperate-to-be-famous stink that seems to surround Ajay.

For my money, Hayley is a much better body role model, because it's not just about having lost weight for her. It's about having done it sensibly and healthily, it's about being a nice person as well as a famous one, it's about being authentic and true to yourself. It's not about having a massive sense of superiority and entitlement just because you shed some kilos.

What do you think? Who do you admire? What qualities do your role models have - both physically and otherwise?

Birthday Experiment 2.0

2009-10-13T10:58:00.004+11:00

A few weeks back, I launched The Birthday Experiment. The purpose of said experiment was to haul myself out of my state of self-induced inertia and bloody get on with things. I hoped that, in the process, I'd reconnect with some of the get-up-and-go I seemed to have in spades a decade ago, which has largely been replaced in recent times by plenty of sit-down-and-bludge.

My deadline was my 29th birthday, October 3. The fact that this was 10 days ago and I'm only now getting around to telling you how I did probably tells you a lot about the success of the experiment...

Just kidding. I certainly didn't fail. In fact, I was able to cross a lot of things off my list. I got oodles of jobs done in the new house, things like having new floors laid and getting the dodgy wiring sorted out. I even got quotes for a new bathroom - which were so astronomically expensive I had to lie down for several days afterward.

Alas, I didn't manage to get the wallpaper hung in the bedroom. I got a quote from a guy that seemed so laughably extortionate I hung up the phone in disgust. But then I got some quotes from other people that were all in the same ballpark, so now I'm thinking I'll hire the first guy after all. And then I'll retrain as a wallpaper hanger. Clearly that's where the money is.

Health wise, I did reasonably well. I've begun doing weights every weekday and am pretty proud of my guns now, let me tell you. I cut back on the booze, too. I didn't quite manage the thrice weekly runs but, in my defence, this was largely because I got myself successive hideous throat infections and was too busy popping antibiotics to think about jogging. I did join my local gym, however. Those of you who have been reading from the start will know what a BIG step this is for me - I have attitude about gyms in general. The new gym doesn't open til October 29, but I'm psyched to give it a go.

Perhaps the element of the experiment I was most eager to achieve was the creative stuff. I always wanted to be a writer, literally for as long as I can remember. And yes, I write things for a living. At home. Sometimes in my PJs. To many people that probably sounds like as writerly a life as you can get. But, to me, bashing out a feature about the local chicken shop for 20 cents a word (yes, really) doesn't quite live up to the romantic notion I've had in my head these 29 years. So I set myself the task of writing at least five pages of a new creative project. And I did that - I started a new novel and a new play.

I started, then I stopped. But hey, at least I started.

So has The Birthday Experiment been a success? I would say yes. I proved to myself that those reserves of motivation and go-get are still there to be tapped into when I set my mind to it. Of course, as often happens, the initial flush of enthusiasm that set me off and running faded after a couple of weeks and it became harder to keep going. Sound familiar, slimmers?!

But reminding myself that I can achieve pretty much anything I set my mind to was the most valuable thing to come out of my little experiment. I just need to set my mind to doing more constructive things than watching episode after episode of Mad Men.

Y'all know I love to make resolutions, so now I'm making a new list: 30 things to do before I'm 30. Suggestions welcome!

Weight loss goes gay

2009-10-12T16:27:00.002+11:00

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

I honestly can't work out whether this is a genuine product, or a hilarious spoof.

What do you think?!

What women want

2009-10-12T09:23:00.006+11:00

I am deeply, utterly and irrevocably obsessed. OBSESSED, I tell you. The source of my fixation? Mad Men. Undoubtedly the best show on TV at the moment; quite possibly the best show on TV ever. The costumes! The brooding! The Brylcreemed hair!

It's the sort of TV show that reminds me why I became a writer - if I ever write something even one one hundredth that good, I will be very happy indeed. In one episode I watched this weekend, the teeth-chatteringly sexy hero, Don Draper (pictured), meets a pretentious lefty hippie pal of one of his bits-on-the-side. When the guy learns Don works in advertising he accuses him of 'selling the lie' and asks, 'How do you sleep at night?' To which Don, smooth as silk, replies, 'On a bed made of money'.

I love it. LOVE it! This line had me chuckling for ages because I can relate to Don's quick-fire delivery of it. Like ad men and politicians and used car salesmen, we journalists are quite used to being told we're the root of all evil. Like Don Draper, I have a catalogue of (I hope) witty ripostes that I can trot out when I'm accused of shattering the fragile self-esteem of a generation of young women or, you know, singlehandedly bringing about the destruction of the world as we know it. I even have a special sub-section of comebacks for when people find out I not only worked for News Limited but - shock! horror! - have great admiration for Rupert Murdoch, aka the Antichrist.

There are few practitioners required to defend what they do for a living as frequently as members of the media. And the accusation most commonly levelled at us is that we are destroyers of healthy body image and instigators of everything from wobbly thigh fixation to eating disorders. Frankly, I find it very tedious. It's like the noughties equivalent of blaming Margaret Thatcher for all the ills of the world.

Don Draper wearily tells those who point the finger at him that advertising is merely giving the public what they want, that people want to be told what to do. And that made me think: is the media in the same boat?

We're told we must bear a large part of the responsibility for making women believe size 0 equals the ideal body. We're told it's our fault that many girls with curves feel they're not good enough. We're asked to hold our hands up and say, yes, we are the reason you don't like your body. But are we? Are we forcing images of slim women upon you against your will... or is this what you want to see?

I'm not sure how people think multi billion-dollar media corporations work but, trust me, they're not flying blind. They don't stick Renee Zellweger on a magazine cover and just cross their fingers and hope people will buy it. They spend millions upon millions of dollars on market research and consultants who analyse readers and potential readers and report back exactly what will make those people buy that magazine. They know where you live, how much money you make, even who buys the groceries in your house. And if they can't make you buy their product, they can certainly make you talk about it.

So it stands to reason that if mags are full of skinny chicks, it's readers that put them there. It's the basic free market principle of supply and demand. It's the same argument the paparazzi used after the death of Princess Diana, when the world and his wife were shouting for gossip rags to be banned. 'Um, hang on a sec,' the paps pointed out. 'If you don't want to see pictures of Diana, stop buying Woman's Day and the four thousand other magazines like it.'

Notoriously mental fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld is in the headlines again today saying that, despite what people may say, everyone likes looking at thin, sexy fashion models on the catwalk. 'You've got fat mothers with their bags of chips sitting in front of the television and saying that thin models are ugly (but) no one wants to see curvy women,' Lagerfeld is quoted as saying. He is obviously taking a simplistic viewpoint, but has he got a point?

As you know, Three Piece Suite is all about responsibility. It's about facing up to your body issues, whatever they may be, and making a commitment to sorting them out. Is blaming the media for the way we feel about ourselves another way of absolving ourselves of our responsibility? Or am I just struggling to get comfortable in my bed made of money?

Sick note.

2009-10-08T09:12:00.003+11:00

For 17 days now, I've felt pretty atrocious. I thought I was on the mend... but this morning I've woken up with an exciting new bug! Lucky me!

Rather than write nonsensical sick person posts, I'm prescribing myself bed rest and Sex and the City DVDs for a few days. I'll be back next week y'all!

All the real girls

2009-10-07T09:07:00.004+11:00

Here's a sentence I never thought I'd write: I'm starting to feel sorry for models.

German magazine Brigitte has just announced it will stop using models completely from 2010, choosing instead to feature only 'real women' in its pages. I'm all for seeing more readers in women's mags. After all, I always tend to skim over the expert comment and skip to the real-life anecdotes in feature articles. I just find my peers' experiences more relevant, and I don't think I'm the lone ranger there.

But what bugs me is this term 'real women'. What does it really mean, and why do those allegedly in the know seem to feel it doesn't apply to girls who have their picture taken for a living?

Not to put too fine a point on it but, technically, being a 'real woman' requires nothing more than a set of reproductive organs. Of course, I don't think that's what people mean when they talk about 'real women'. I suspect most people think of a 'real woman' as being smart, savvy, warm, compassionate, fun and, most importantly, comfortable in their own skin.

Who says only curvaceous broads fit this description?

How 'real' you are surely should not be governed by how big or small you are. Why is someone who fits a size 0 deemed to be 'unreal'? There are plenty of women - even models! - who are naturally thin. They haven't starved themselves to look the way they do, and they're not trying to betray the sisterhood by conforming to the big bad media's idea of a perfect body. They're just being who they are. As it happens, some of these women fit fashion designers' sample size garments, and earn a nice chunk o' change for being photographed in them. Should they have their feminine wiles called into question because of what they do for a living?

My best friend recently reminded me that, when I was about 13, I announced: 'If your thighs don't touch, you're not a real woman!' I know why I said that. It's because my thighs do touch - always have - I'd rather they didn't, and I was trying to make myself feel better about them. Is that what's going on with the 'real women' campaigners? Are they trying to make themselves feel better by making slimmer women feel bad? Are they doing exactly what they accuse unhealthy-looking celebrities and models of doing?

So sure, let's get more non-celebrity ladies in the pages of our favourite glossies. But can we cut it out with the 'real women' thing? Please?

Back soon!

2009-10-06T09:21:00.002+11:00

Morning gang!

Just a quick note to apologise for the lack of posts these past couple of days. It's been a long weekend here in New South Wales, plus it was my birthday and much partying was done by all... but mostly by me.

Consequently, I'm a touch behind the eight ball but will be back with you ASAP!

xKitty

Please help.

2009-10-01T07:28:00.003+10:00

Morning all,

As you've probably heard, a devastating tsunami hit the Pacific islands of Samoa, American Samoa and Tonga yesterday. Hundreds are feared dead, and at least four Aussies are among those confirmed lost.

So I'm going off-topic today and asking you to please dig deep to support the people affected. The Red Cross has launched an emergency relief appeal and you can donate HERE.

Samoa, we're thinking of you.

xKitty

Happy happy joy joy

2009-09-30T08:40:00.004+10:00

Reader Julie Parker - who is general manager of eating disorders charity The Butterfly Foundation - asked me a very interesting question earlier this week: do I believe that being slim equals being happy? It's a great question, and one I've thought a lot about.

I can see how this blog might give the impression that I believe being a size 10 is a one-way ticket to an easy life. After all, the whole point of Three Piece Suite is to encourage you to go out and grab the life you want - and I do believe that making things happen and achieving your goals will boost your general happiness. Ergo, losing weight means gaining happiness, yes?

Well, yes and no. No because I don't believe that slim people are necessarily happy. I would actually argue that really, really slim people - ie those with eating disorders such as anorexia and bulimia, whom Julie works with on a daily basis - are decidedly unhappy.

But yes because I don't believe that obese people are happy either. Sure, you might be happy with 99.9% of your life if you're dangerously overweight. But how can you be 100% happy if you're unhealthy? (Some say you can be fat and healthy but I'm dubious about this - if you don't have health issues now, it's sadly only a matter of time.) How can you be happy when there are things your size prevents you from doing, trying, achieving? How can you be happy when the people who care about you are worried about your wellbeing?

Julie also asked whether I think losing weight brings happiness. My answer to that one is yes, but not simply because losing weight means you can buy smaller clothes or attract more attention from the opposite sex. I think people who lose weight feel happier because they've proven to themselves they can reach their goals. They've decided to make changes and - though it may have been difficult, though they may have felt like giving up - they've stuck to their guns and done it. The sense of achievement and pride that brings, and its effect on your general happiness, should not be underestimated.

I don't think size can or should account for your entire happiness quotient. I mean, there's just so much more to life than the size tag in your jeans. But I think you're likely to be happier at a healthy weight than you would be at either the too-heavy or too-thin end of the spectrum. It's just one less thing to worry about, isn't it? Eat well and exercise and you're going to feel better, look better, have more energy etc etc. Then, if you're not happy with other aspects of your life, you have a great foundation from which to make changes.

Ew. On so many levels.

2009-09-29T09:33:00.003+10:00

They say that desperate times call for desperate measures. But there's desperate measures... and then there's this.

This is the Chugay Tongue Patch. Even the name sounds wrong. It's a tiny square of mesh, about the size of a postage stamp, that cosmetic surgeon Dr Nikolas Chugay will sew onto your tongue to make eating solid food extremely painful. The logic behind it is that if eating real food hurts, you'll sip voodoo shakes instead and thus lose weight.

Dr Chugay (yes, that's chew-gay) takes the patch off again after a month, by which time you should have shed at least 10kg. About 10 people in California (where else?) have reportedly undergone this procedure so far. It's not yet available in Australia because no doctor here is willing to perform the operation.

The good doctor trots out the usual spiel about how his contraption is only for people who have tried everything else to lose weight, it's not a quick fix, yada yada yada. But come on. Are we really so weak-willed that eating real food needs to physically HURT before we'll take control of our health? To me, that just seems like an unbelievable oxymoron. Health and pain should not be mentioned in the same sentence.

Of course, Dr Chugay's procedure is really no different to any of the other crackpot surgeries we subject ourselves to for the sake of weight loss. But it is perhaps the most extreme: inflicting a whole MONTH of pain on yourself for the sake of a few kilos? It's like some freaky S&M scenario.

It also reinforces the very unhealthy perception that losing weight is a form of punishment and must be uncomfortable. It isn't and it mustn't. Losing weight is, in fact, a reward. It's the bonus you get when you eat delicious, healthy foods, when you move your body in the way it was designed to move. Dropping kilos is the pay-off for looking after yourself. Why should that be uncomfortable?

What's it going to take?

2009-09-28T08:31:00.005+10:00

Yesterday I managed to drag myself out of my sick bed for a couple of hours to accompany Mr Kitty on a ye olde Sunday drive. We ventured across Sydney to Kurnell, which is where Captain Cook first set foot on Australian soil.

While we were there, we treated ourselves to a meat pie with sauce from the local takeaway, as you when you're Sunday driving. Standing in front of me in the queue was a woman who, quite seriously, had a backside as wide as my car. As I watched her order an enormous array of deep-fried, fat-laden goodies, I found myself thinking, 'Don't you care how this makes you look?'

I carried our comparatively healthy order back to the car, relayed to Mr Kitty what I'd just seen and asked him the same question I'd asked myself. 'No, she doesn't,' was his reply. 'She doesn't have any pride.' And I thought, if that's true - if this woman really doesn't give a stuff what she looks like - then what's it going to take for her to win her war against weight?

I tell you this not to be mean or mocking, but because I'm genuinely confused. As your typical 21st century neurotic, I care about how I'm perceived by other people. Even when I occasionally leave the house in trakky daks or with one-day-dirty hair, I worry what message that sends to the world. I can't imagine knowing - or even suspecting - people were thinking 'Geez, get a look at the state of her' and being OK with that.

I've written before about the JC moment - that instant you realise 'Jesus Christ! I can't spend another second living like this!' But what if that moment never comes? What if your backside keeps getting bigger and you keep spending every Sunday buying up big in your local greasy spoon? What's it going to take for you to realise you need to do something and you need to do it now?

What it comes down to is motivation. While other people's opinions might matter to me, they don't matter to everyone - at least, they don't matter enough to encourage people to take that first step on their weight-loss journey. That's not to say those people are necessarily happy with the way they look but that, for whatever reason, it is preferable to remain obese than to make changes for aesthetic reasons. (Though research indicates looking better is a more powerful weight-loss driver for most people than feeling better.)

What's it going to take then? I know plenty of real-life slimmers for whom the penny finally dropped when doctors told them they'd die if they didn't take action. But even that doesn't work for some people. I have a relative who's been told for years to lose weight or face potentially deadly health problems. That relative is still obese.

I'm not quite sure how to conclude this post, because I really don't have an answer for this one. I could say you really need to dig deep, be brutally honest and identify what it will take for you to commit to a healthier lifestyle. But if, like the woman in the takeaway shop, you don't think you're worthy of a slim, healthy body, that's going to be an impossible task.

Actually, maybe that's the answer: stand in front of a mirror, look yourself in the eye and tell yourself you're worth it. You are worth looking after. You deserve to be slim, to feel good, to be happy. You might not believe it now - in fact, let's be honest, you probably won't - but say it to yourself 10 times today. Then say it another 10 times tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. Keep saying it until you DO believe it. Then go and do something about it.

Welcome to my meltdown

2009-09-25T09:28:00.005+10:00

Maybe it's because I've been ill for a week and am showing no signs of getting any better. Maybe it's because I'm flat out with work that doesn't pay very well. Maybe it's because I reconnected with a gorgeous old friend who's doing fabulous things with his life. Maybe it's because I rented a romantic chick flick to make myself feel better and the bloody DVD player blew up halfway through. (Anyone know what happens at the end of Atonement?!)

Whatever the reason, as the week draws to a close I find myself firmly in a 'what is the fucking point' kind of mood.

I mean, really, why am I bothering with any of it? You know what I mean? I bust my arse day after freaking day and for what? For WHAT?! I feel like I need to change career or shave my head or go live on a desert island or something.

Obviously I realise I'm being utterly melodramatic and that, actually, I've got it pretty darn good. And I know there are people in the world with real problems. But, well, I don't care about those people. I care about me! I know you know what I'm talking about. (Since when is 'there are starving children in Africa' supposed to be a cheery thought?!)

What it comes down to is that I don't feel I see enough reward for the effort I put in. And that's something I'm willing to bet every single person who's ever tried to lose weight can relate to. You can subsist on lettuce leaves and water, go to the gym seven days a week and never allow a morsel of chocolate to pass your lips, but if you get on that scale and discover you haven't lost a gram, why bother? It's enough to make you want to change career or shave your head or go live on a desert island as well. Or eat an entire pepperoni pizza.

So what to do when the desire to chuck in the towel feels overwhelming? First of all, remind yourself why you're doing it. And no, you're NOT doing it just to lose weight. You're doing it to be healthy, to have more energy, to feel more confident, to have your clothes fit better, to have better skin, to be able to run for the bus and actually catch it, to expand your healthy recipe repertoire, to sleep better, to be stronger. Even if the weight doesn't come off at the rate you'd hoped, I'll guarantee you can tick at least one of these other benefits off the list.

Next, ask yourself if it's worth it. Really think about whether you gain more from trying to lose weight than from being fat and inactive. Even if you don't shed kilos initially, the simple act of trying will hopefully make you feel capable and motivated - and surely that's preferable to feeling powerless and uncomfortable.

Finally, get some help. I know a woman, a fellow runner, who, when she feels like skipping a run, asks her husband to give her three reasons why she should go. By the time he's done, she's raring to go. You need people to help and support you, to reassure you that you're on the right track.

The bottom line is this: putting in the effort and not seeing the reward is temporary. If you keep at it, eventually you will succeed. And if the hard graft occasionally makes you feel fed up, imagine how desperate you'll feel if you don't even try.

This is what I'm reminding myself today.

Ugh.

2009-09-24T09:52:00.003+10:00

Sooooo ill. Can't even think straight, let alone write. Will be back, fighting fit, tomorrow.

Have a great day!

Dust. Anybody? No? Dust.

2009-09-23T11:33:00.003+10:00

Sorry I'm a little late with today's post, folks. As you may be aware, Sydney is currently in the midst of the worst dust storm in years. Little Britain's Marjorie Dawes may tell us that dust is very low in fat and we can have as much as we like but, as I have a stinking cold and am a severe asthmatic, it's not a good day for Kitty.

The picture to the right was the view from my house at 6.30am. See that dip in the tree line? That's where the ocean is supposed to be. Even though I have all the doors and windows closed, everything in my house is covered in a film of red dust. I can't even take Tex the Wonderdog for a walk - he's the same colour as the dust; I might lose him!

Not surprisingly, there will be no strenuous activity for me today. Instead, I'm going to do a little bit of work, then make a zinging hot curry in my slow cooker (all the better to clear my stuffed-up nose) and curl up on the couch with a book. Which I would have done anyway owing to the aforementioned stinking cold - the dust storm just makes my plan all the more justifiable.

My decision to forgo my daily exercise got me thinking about when it's appropriate to skip a workout - and when it's not. With colds, the general expert consensus is that it's OK to work out if you're ill from the neck up, but if it's below your shoulders - ie respiratory infections and stomach flus - you should stay tucked up in bed.

Here are the reasons for dodging exercise that I deem acceptable...

* Legitimate illness.

* Stupid weather conditions (dust, snow, sleet, 40+ temperatures etc): no one likes a martyr

* Extreme fatigue: this is probably your body's way of telling you that you've overdone it. Rest is just as important as training.

* Genuine time constraints: sometimes things crop up and you have to reschedule your exercise. It happens. Beating yourself up about it will only make you feel shitty. Just make sure you make up your missed session some other time!

And the ones I definitely don't...

* Period pain: moving will make you feel better.

* A hangover: you did it to yourself, ergo you deserve no sympathy.

* Feeling you can't be arsed: hard as it may be, pull on your sneakers and go for a short walk. You'll feel sooo much better for it.

* Fight with partner/busy day at work/million things to do: exercise is the fastest, cheapest and most legal way of alleviating the stress caused by these situations.

* Workout gear in the wash: are you serious? Do a yoga DVD in your underwear if you have to.

Have a dusty old day peeps!

Dicko does Magda

2009-09-22T09:33:00.005+10:00

Ooerr missus, that sounds a bit wrong doesn't it?! But you can get your minds out of the gutter because there's nothing untoward about it. I'm simply referring to the news that Australian Idol judge Ian 'Dicko' Dickson has followed in Magda Szubanski's footsteps and signed on as a spokesman for Jenny Craig.

The 46-year-old recovering alcoholic - who infamously told bootylicious Idol alum Paulini to lose weight - wants to shed 10-15kg after his doctor told him 'diet or die'. He'll do so with Jenny Craig's men-only Jen4Men program.

I applaud Dicko for taking control of his health but I do wonder... as a bloke, will he enjoy the same degree of public support as 'our Magda'?

On the one hand, society is much harsher on overweight women than it is on overweight men. But on the other, I think bigger blokes are at a bit if a disadvantage when they're working to lose the extra kilos - they just don't seem to have as many people cheering them on.

Perhaps it's because fat chicks are expected to not want to be fat chicks - we assume that any woman with a spare tyre must be consumed with self-loathing and obsessed with doing whatever it takes to lose it. But blokes are 'allowed' to be overweight - we certainly don't judge a roly-poly guy in the same harsh manner. Therefore, it's arguably not seen to be as big an achievement when a man takes control and slims down.

There doesn't seem to be the same politically correct frenzy around calling an overweight man an overweight man either. We, as a society, relate completely differently to portly gents. When I lived in the UK, for example, there was an obese singer called Rik Waller, who competed in the first series of the reality TV show Pop Idol. Rik was roundly and routinely ridiculed because of his size. The British press thought nothing of mocking him mercilessly because of his size. It was like a competition to see who could be meaner to this poor bloke, who was actually a very talented singer. Would society have tolerated that treatment of a woman? I don't think so. Look at the outcry following Dicko's own comments about Paulini.

Meanwhile, our overweight female celebrities - like Magda and, yes, my favourite Beth Ditto - are either praised for their 'f***-you-I'm-fat' attitude or wrapped up in a big, warm metaphorical hug as they bust their backsides to lose weight.

Personally, I am not as interested in Dicko's weight-loss journey as I was in Magda's. But is that because I've been brainwashed by society to believe fat blokes don't matter, or simply because I'm a woman and therefore can't relate to him on the same level as I can Magda?

When it comes to men and weight loss, are we just not that bothered?

Toni Tony Tone

2009-09-21T17:46:00.002+10:00

Hip hip hooray for Australia's own Toni Collette, who today scooped her first Emmy Award for her role in the quirky and compelling United States of Tara.

And doesn't she look dazzling accepting her award? Maybe a bit too thin, but that's Hollywood for you.

Yay for Toni!

Have you seen the muffin man?

2009-09-21T10:06:00.002+10:00

Welcome to another week filled with good intentions and lofty ambitions of going for lots of walks in the sunshine and eating salad instead of Tim Tams. And, of course, another weight-loss cop out from our friends in the north.

Plastic surgeons in London have begun offering muffin-top removal surgery. That’s right, for just A$10,000 you can have the fat sucked out of your love handles and never have to worry about that unsightly jeans verandah ever again. The four-hour op, which is performed under general anaesthetic, hoovers up to five pints of lard from your backside. And all it requires from you – in addition to the ten large, obviously – is an overnight hospital stay and six weeks in bicycle shorts. Sexy.

But if you thought this was just for lazy ladies-who-lunch with nothing better to spend their money on, think again! Surgeon Patrick Mallucci, of London Plastic Surgery Associations, says patients are “fit, healthy people who have done everything they can to lose weight”.

Everything, it would seem, except wearing jeans that fit.

He goes on: “We do not offer this as a quick-fix to weight loss.” Phew! Apparently to be considered for this op, you can’t just decide on a whim that you loathe your flabby bits. No, you have to have had a lifelong obsession with your fat arse/childbearing hips. Because, obviously, invasive surgery is the best option for people whose entire lives are defined by the size of their rear. A similar operation is also available for ‘cankles’.

Yes, I’m cynical. Yes, I find it tedious and sad that there’s yet another form of mutilation available to people who should probably just learn to accept the fact that they’re pear-shaped. Or, you know, admit they’re a size 14 and stop pouring themselves into size 10 skinny bumsters.

Meanwhile, still in London, a stylist has quit a London Fashion Week runway show in disgust after the designer, Mark Fast, announced he would have size 14 models strutting his catwalk. No doubt the stylist went straight down to Harley Street for some muffin top suckage.

Young boys are my weakness

2009-09-18T08:05:00.004+10:00

They're not really. I just wanted to write about weaknesses today, and the title of Kate Ceberano's 1989 hit has a nice ring to it. (Incidentally, have been rediscovering Kate's tunes lately - she's awesome!)

Everyone has a weight-loss weakness: a food they simply cannot pass up, regardless of how determined they are to shed kilos. And it might not even be what you think it is. I'm a bona fide chocoholic, for example, but I can pass it up if I really want to. I can even forgo wine and pizza and smelly cheese if I try really, really hard.

What I cannot go past - and this is not something I'm proud of - is tinned food. Ravioli in a tin. Spaghetti and meatballs in a tin (I'm not even sure it's real meat). Baked beans. Mac 'n' cheese. You name it - if it comes in a can and is processed beyond recognition, I want a piece of it. The more E numbers, the better. Mmmm... E numbers...

I know what you're thinking: 'Ew! Gross!' And you're right. With a couple of notable exceptions (baked beans are a healthy, low-fat option) there's nothing nutritious about food that comes in a can. But it's quick, easy and often quite delicious. And even though I love fresh, healthy food as much as the next person, if I've got a tin of something in the house, I will eat it.

So if you have a food weakness, what can you do about it? Well, the obvious thing is not to have it in the house. And if it does sneak in, you need to just admit to yourself you're going to scoff it and adjust the rest of your food intake accordingly. If I know I'm going to neck a can of high-salt, high-fat ravioli for lunch, for example, I might have a low-fat yoghurt for breakfast and a simple stir-fry for dinner.

Losing weight is not about denying yourself the things you love. Tell yourself you WILL NOT eat chocolate and I can guarantee you will obsess about chocolate until it's all you can think about. Allow yourself a few squares of chocolate every day, however, and it's no big deal. Weight-loss guru Dr Rick Kausman advises slimmers to always ask the question 'I can have it if I want it but do I really feel like it?' If I really, really want that tin of deliciousness, I will have it - no big whoop. But sometimes I can convince myself I really want a salad wrap instead.

Not often. But sometimes.

Crackpot contraption of the week

2009-09-16T09:51:00.005+10:00

Now that I work from home, I watch more morning television than is probably healthy. I don't know if you've ever watched much morning TV yourself, but it is full - just absolutely jam-packed - with infomercials for loopy weight-loss contraptions.

As I write this, I'm watching a frighteningly orange, blow-dried woman tell me all about the 'revolutionary' Cardio Twister. Have you seen it? It's the loopiest-looking thing I've ever seen. As far as I can tell, you have to stand backwards on an ergonomic office chair and swivel from side to side. This will apparently give you a targeted fat-burning workout, tighter abs, weight loss, frankincense, myrrh and gold. Woot!

Except, oh yeah, no it doesn't.

I've said this before but I'm going to say it again, slooooowly. It. Is. Not. Possible. To. Spot. Reduce. This means you cannot 'target' your fat burning. You can burn fat, sure. You can use resistance exercises to tone some areas more than others. But you cannot lose weight from just one part of your body. Not even if you pay $249.95 and twist again like you did last summer.

One woman on the infomercial gushes about how she lost 10lb in 10 days. 'That's an inch and a pound a day!' she shrieks. Thanks for that - maths was never my strong suit. Oh yeah, and bollocks. If you lost that amount of weight in that amount of time, you must have been starving yourself and running 10km a day in addition to your ergometric chair swivelling.

I love the way the peddlers of these ridiculous contraptions say 'As Seen On TV' like it's some sort of ringing endorsement. Anyone can get on TV. Paedophiles are on TV - does that mean we're supposed to want one gathering dust in the corner of the living room?

The moral of this story is the moral of every story on Three Piece Suite. Save your money. Go for a walk around the block. Get real and you'll get slim.

RIP Patrick Swayze

2009-09-15T10:10:00.002+10:00

This has nothing whatsoever to do with weight loss but I've just heard Patrick Swayze - one of the best and most underestimated actors of all time - has lost his battle with pancreatic cancer.

RIP Patrick. Thanks for the memories.

Denial. It ain't just a river in Egypt.

2009-09-15T09:51:00.003+10:00

So some boffins in the US have decided that 21st century women think they're more fabulous than they actually are. Apparently most of us gals believe we're smarter, more talented and vastly more attractive than we are in reality. In short, these 'scientists' have decided we're all total narcissists.

One of the key findings of their research - which involved analysing studies on 37,000 American college students - was the discovery that when things don't go our way, it's always someone else's fault. That guy didn't call you back? He's clearly threatened by your success. And anyway, you're far too busy/important/focused on work to have a serious relationship.

Jeans don't fit? Obviously designers are making clothing sizes smaller these days, forcing regular women to obsess about their figures and subscribe to that whole 'size 0 is the way to go' bastardry. As a feminist, aren't you just outraged?

Perhaps you get the feeling that I'm a tad dubious about this research. You're right; I am. It doesn't make sense to me that the majority of women are strutting around feeling all superior when my personal experience and that of most of my friends tells me the exact opposite is true.

We don't think we're fabulous when all the evidence points to the contrary. If anything, we're all too aware of our own flaws. We second guess every single little decision we make, every single damn day. We're wracked by guilt over the most trivial things. We think pretty much everyone is smarter, more talented and more fabulous than us. And it's really depressing. Personally, I'd much rather be a narcissist than feel inferior and invisible most of the time.

And I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest that those of us who do blame others for our own shortcomings aren't privately deluded but in public denial. Think about it. It's easier to tell your girlfriends that guy who didn't call is an idiot, even if deep down you believe there's something fundamentally wrong with you. (For the record, there isn't - he IS an idiot.) Self-preservation is the name of the game for most of us. Why would we publicly own up to our flaws if we don't have to? As Dita Von Deese says, if someone tells you that you have a great butt, for heaven's sake don't tell them they're wrong!

Of course, if we are all secretly flagellating ourselves for our perceived flaws and misdeeds, it begs the question: WHY?!!! Why aren't we, as these scientists claim, all floating along on clouds of our own brilliance but instead consumed by our own failings? If I had the answer to that, I'd be one very enlightened woman. What are your thoughts?

Monday words of wisdom

2009-09-14T09:42:00.002+10:00

It's all go at Three Piece Suite Towers today! I have a to-do list as long as Tex the Wonderdog's tail, so unfortunately I won't be able to write the longer post I had planned. I promise I'll be more organised tomorrow!

In the meantime, here's some motivational words from actress Emma Thompson. I've always loved Emma - aside from being staggeringly talented, she loves her 'great big zonking bottom' and has a totally down-to-earth attitude towards her body.

'I run almost every day, partly because I want to drink wine and eat what I bloody well want but because, around 40, everything changes,' Emma says. 'I don't have a personal trainer, I hate gyms, so I just do it outside on my own. And what's lovely is that it really makes me wake up.'

Work it, girlfriend! And have a lovely Monday y'all!

'We are shaped and fashioned by what we love'*

2009-09-11T08:58:00.005+10:00

Maybe it's the advent of warmer weather, but all of a sudden I am utterly obsessed with shopping. It's kind of a problem, as I'm not exactly flush with cash. Oh, and my day-to-day wardrobe consists largely of jeans, t-shirts and flip flops - so those SJP-esque frocks I've got my eye on aren't particularly practical. Is it just me, or is casual dressing much, much harder than it seems?!

When you're losing weight and trying to keep up with an ever-evolving figure, shopping can be a freakin' nightmare. What do you do when everything in your wardrobe is too big but you still have weight to lose and don't want to invest in a whole bunch of new clothes until you reach your goal? And how do you get your head around the fact that you no longer need to wear boxy black 'fat lady' clothes but can play with colour, print and silhouette?

Obviously every woman has her own style but there are some rules-of-thumb that an incredible shrinking woman can use to ensure she looks fan-bloody-tastic at all times, regardless of where she's at in her weight-loss journey.

Spend your money on a couple of key pieces that you can mix and match with cheaper separates. A wrap dress is a must have, for example, as are a pair of smart trousers. Loose, smock-style tops are all the rage - buy one in a luxe fabric and you can wear it with cheap little skirts and jeans from Target. (Don't spend a packet on designer jeans when you're shedding kilos - you'll need a new pair in five minutes flat.) And as the weight falls off, you can cinch it with a belt to show off your waist.

As we're heading into summer, snap up cheap 'n' cheerful cotton sundresses from stores like Supre and Valley Girl. Toughen up your look with a leather or denim jacket, or a cute cardi for a more ladylike option.

And while you may be tempted to swathe yourself in acres of fabric, here's a little tip: the more tailored the garment, the slimmer you look. A fitted blazer, a great white shirt and slim-leg dark denim jeans accentuates your good bits, nips in your problem areas and generally looks uber-stylish.

Accessories are a slimmer's best friend. Even if you stick to 'safe' clothes, you can take your look to the next level with killer shoes, a colourful patent leather belt, interesting jewellery and an eye-catching bag. You don't have to spend a bomb, either - I'm thinking Diva, not Dior.

Today's pix are a couple of my recent purchases. Both dresses are vintage - I gravitate towards classic shapes because they flatter my pear-shaped figure. Sadly, I don't own the necklace - it's from Nicole Richie's House of Harlow 1960 range and it's firmly on my birthday wish list!

* Goethe.

What the?!

2009-09-10T10:12:00.003+10:00

Today's post has nothing whatsoever to do with weight loss... unless you count the fact that its subject was once waaaaay too skinny and the poster girl for eating carbs every now and then. But I just can't not comment!

Nicole Richie has named her newborn son Sparrow.

Sparrow, people. As in, a small, hippity hoppity worm-eating bird. Why would you do that to a kid? I know those Hollywood folks are known for their creative baby names but come on. You can't even shorten Sparrow to something more palatable. What's his nickname going to be, Spaz?

Sparrow.

An open letter to Kyle Sandilands

2009-09-09T09:03:00.006+10:00

Dear Kyle Sandilands,

Some people pride themselves on being outspoken. Some people like playing devil's advocate, saying controversial things in order to spark debate.

Other people are just dicks. You, Kyle, are one of these people.

What exactly did you think you would achieve by suggesting Magda Szubanski, who overcame lifelong struggles with her weight to shed more than 25kg, would benefit from a stint in a concentration camp? 'You put her in a concentration camp and watch the weight fall off... like, she could be skinny,' you said on air.

Is that supposed to be funny? Were we supposed to laugh at a quip about a formerly dangerously overweight woman who has busted her butt to regain her health? Or was the jibe about the holocaust aimed at the Polish woman meant to be the joke?

I don't pretend to know Magda Szubanski well, but I have met her and I do know how seriously she has taken her recent weight loss. To achieve what she has is a big deal and I think we can safely assume she's happy with her success. I don't think she wants to be 'skinny', certainly not to impress a wanker like you.

As for the suggestion she hasn't lost enough weight, two words for you, Kyle: Pot. Kettle.

I don't flatter myself that you'll ever read this letter, Kyle. And if you do, I'm sure you'll just laugh it off and tell yourself I'm some bitter and twisted fat person with no sense of humour. For the record, I'm slim. And I'm damn funny.

So you might ask yourself why I'm bothering to vent my opinion when I know it will have absolutely no effect on you. I'll tell you, Kyle. It's because you're a bully.

You are an ignorant, mean, sad little bully. Your latest foot-in-mouth scenario isn't the first. There was your failure to cough up the money you pledged to the family of a disabled little boy. And, of course, the charming incident in which you quizzed a 14-year-old rape victim about her sex life live on air. How exactly are you furthering debate or serving the public in any way, shape or form?

I'm sure people will just roll their eyes and say 'oh, that's just Kyle for you' in response to your latest tirade. But this time, I hope your head rolls. I hope you are sacked from your various media gigs and fade into obscurity where you belong.

You are a bully, Kyle, and the only way to deal with bullies is to stand up to them, to take away their power. May you sink without trace.

Sincerely,

Kitty.

UPDATE: Aww, you've been stood down by 2Day FM, 'pending further discussions'. Hopefully those discussions will include the words 'you're fired, tool'. As Daryl Kerrigan would say, suffer in your jocks.

Like a hole in the head

2009-09-08T09:51:00.005+10:00

Last week I watched a fantastic film called Changeling. Have you seen it? If not, rush to the video shop and rent it immediately!

It stars Angelina Jolie as a single mum in 1930s Los Angeles whose young son is kidnapped. Months later, the cops claim to have found him - but the boy returned to her is not her child. When she points out this fact, the police are so afraid of being publicly embarrassed they decide to make her look nuts instead. The horrific lengths they go to include locking her up in a psychiatric hospital, where electric shock therapy is administered as a matter of course.

The depiction of this controversial therapy is confronting, to say the least. Honestly, it looks like one of the most painful and distressing things that could ever happen to a person. There is some evidence to suggest that shock therapy is useful in treating severe psychiatric disorders but, if Changeling is anything to go by, it was often used simply to subdue 'difficult' patients.

That doctors would pump electricity into a human being in a bid to control their behaviour seems utterly ludicrous, right? But guess what? It's happening in the 21st century, and the behaviour they're attempting to control is over-eating.

You read that right. In the US, a three-year, government-approved trial of Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS) has seen holes drilled in the skulls of at least two human guinea pigs, and electrodes inserted. These electrodes deliver tiny bursts of electricity to alter the patients' behaviour. Apparently, early results are 'promising' as the patients have started to eat less and lose weight.

Only patients who have tried everything - including gastric bypass surgery - are able to be considered for DBS. The idea is the electrodes stimulate the hypothalamus - the part of the brain that regulates appetite - and make you feel constantly full.

This isn't crackpot science - DBS has been proven to help people with debilitating movement disorders such as Parkinson's Disease and dystonia. But is it me, or is there something just creepy about appropriating this procedure for weight loss? Are people really so weak-willed that having HOLES DRILLED IN YOUR HEAD is preferable to eating right and exercising?

Oh yeah, you have to be awake while some guy's using a Black & Decker on your noggin AND the op carries a risk of stroke and/or death. Good times.

Yes, we know the reasons behind obesity are myriad and complex and that, for some people, there are legitimate physiological factors for their size. But for 99.999999% of the fat population, they are fat because they eat poorly and don't exercise enough. I really struggle to accept that the 'holes in the head' route is the ONLY option available for all but a miniscule number of people.

Seventy years on from the Changeling era of sorting people out by frying their brains, we think this treatment is barbaric and unnecessary. Is it going to take the best part of another century to realise we just need to stop making excuses about our weight, stop looking for quick fixes and get real?

Does thinner equal better?

2009-09-07T11:09:00.005+10:00

I was ill over the weekend and spent a lot of time curled up on the sofa re-watching my Sex and the City DVDs. Consequently, I've been pondering life's big questions and have gone a bit 'I couldn't help but wonder...'

What's got me channelling Carrie Bradshaw is a comment made on the blog last week by reader Megan. My post about waiting til you're slim to start living your life evidently struck a chord with Megan, and she commented that she wanted to stop procrastinating because her lovely kids deserve 'a better mum'.

And I couldn't help but wonder... does thinner equal better?

In many ways, the suggestion that thin people are better than fat people is patently absurd. We know that it's what's inside that counts and being thin doesn't make you smart, compassionate, funny, interesting or nice (god knows there's a lot of emaciated celebs wandering around out there who are the antithesis of all these things). We know that what you look like is not who you are.

BUT... if we're talking about the qualities people aspire to when they say they want to 'better themselves', perhaps there is an argument for slimmer being better.

People who view education as a means of bettering themselves, for example, are often seeking to expand their minds, broaden their horizons, meet like-minded folks and explore new ideas. I don't think it's going too far to say an open-minded, rational, intelligent person is better than a hateful redneck who doesn't give a stuff about anyone else's opinion.

Similarly, an overweight person who has achieved a healthy weight has plenty of skills and attributes that arguably make them a better person. They clearly have discipline, for example. They have the ability to motivate themselves and others. They're obviously optimistic enough to have envisaged a future in which they weren't uncomfortable and unhealthy - and they went out and got that future. And they have one quality I think is sorely undervalued these days: empathy. A once-overweight person who is now slim knows what it's like at both ends of the weight spectrum. That person is going to be understanding, patient and accepting of people's struggles.

Is this person better than someone who doesn't possess these qualities? For my money, the answer is yes. (Incidentally, psychologists have a word for people who can't empathise with another person in physical or emotional pain: psychopath.)

So to Megan, I say this. It's obvious to me that you adore your kids, and you would lie down in traffic for them whether you were a size eight or 28. They don't need a thinner mother. What they need is a mum who is healthy, who has self respect and who can show them what self esteem is all about. They need a mum who loves herself as much as she loves them. You're well on your way to being that mum, Megan. Just keep on keeping on!

Have a great week gang!

Hitting the bottle

2009-09-04T10:01:00.003+10:00

One of the challenges I've set myself as part of the Birthday Experiment is to curb my weeknight drinking. It's not like I'm a massive booze hag or anything, but Mr Kitty and I had recently been sinking a bottle of vino a night and I was starting to notice it.

As well as feeling a bit flabby in areas I'd rather not feel flabby, I'd stopped enjoying it. Have you ever noticed that if you allow yourself treats every time you want them, they stop feeling 'special'? So with that in mind, I'm now going to try and limit myself to a glass of wine or two at weekends only.

It's a good thing too, according to new research from the UK. A University College London survey of around 30,000 people between 2002 and 2005 found that binge drinking adds an average four inches - or 10cm - to a woman's waist. Men don't get off scot-free either: the booze adds two inches, or five centimetres, to those beer bellies.

FYI, 'binge drinkers' are defined as those who drink 80-100g of alcohol - that's 10-12 units - on a single occasion at least once a month.

Women who binge drink gain around twice as much midriff fat as those who don't. Researchers say we're more at risk because we generally have a smaller body mass in which to dispose of the alcohol. As we know, belly fat is worse than any other kind of fat because it pushes up cholesterol and blood pressure and can get into the organs. Ick.

I don't mind admitting I like a drink and I probably wouldn't give up my savvy b even if researchers discovered it would make me grow an extra head. But cutting back for the sake of my health is definitely do-able.

Quote of the day

2009-09-02T10:27:00.001+10:00

'Life isn't about finding yourself. Life's about creating yourself."

George Bernard Shaw.

The weighting game

2009-09-02T09:35:00.004+10:00

Some people say life is pain (those people aren't very optimistic) but it seems to me that life is, in fact, waiting. Right now, for example, I'm waiting for a guy to come and fix a window that broke during one of those crazy mini-hurricanes that hit Sydney last week. After that I'll wait til lunchtime, when I'm going to meet a lovely friend for a bite to eat. Then I'll come home and wait to hear from any of the umpteen editors I've pitched to this week.

We are all, always, waiting for something. When you're a kid, you wait to be old enough to finish school, to drink alcohol, to drive a car. In your late teens and twenties, you're waiting to be old enough to be taken seriously, to advance through the career ranks, to meet Mr or Miss Right. Then you wait to get married, to buy houses, to have babies etc etc. It's bloody exhausting!

All this waiting can make it difficult to get things done. Many of us fall into that trap of thinking 'as soon as I get a better job/boyfriend/house, THEN I'll be able to achieve X, Y and Z'. I'm guilty of this: I was convinced that as soon as I had the freedom to set my own work hours, I'd be able to pen the great Australian novel. Ha!

I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this... People who are losing weight play the biggest waiting game of all. First, there's waiting for the perfect moment to start that healthy eating and regular exercise regime. 'I'll go back to the gym as soon as the kids start school', 'I'll cook healthier meals when I have more time'. Sound familiar?

Then there's squirrelling away clothes you tell yourself you'll be able to wear one day, if only you can wait for your ideal slim silhouette to materialise. And, saddest of all, there's all the things you wait to do because you believe your life doesn't really start until you're thinner.

I've blogged about this issue before but, as I sit here waiting for the sodding glazier, it occurs to me it hasn't really sunk in. I'm going to add it to my Birthday Experiment list: stop waiting, start living!

The Birthday Experiment

2009-09-01T10:02:00.005+10:00

Hurrah! Spring has sprung! Flowers are blooming, lambs are gamboling in the meadows and anal retentive people everywhere are bleaching their skirting boards.

And me? While I might not be taking it that far, I've certainly got spring cleaning on my mind. Only I won't be chucking out physical clutter - I'm more interested in purging my life of the assorted crap I no longer want or need. I'm having a metaphysical garage sale, if you like.

Before you start worrying that I've gone all fruity la-la, let me explain. I've alluded in previous posts to the fact that I am a world-class procrastinator. If I have six months to complete a task, you can bet your bottom dollar I'll begin it at the absolute last minute (which is why I have three features to write today that are due, um, today.)

This isn't one of those quirky idiosyncrasies that people complain about but secretly enjoy, like an inability to make small talk or an obsession with Antiques Roadshow. No, procrastination is - for me at least - a great big bastard of a thing that I would dearly love to banish from my life forever. It stops me accomplishing the things I want to accomplish and it makes me feel frustrated, unmotivated and wretched.

The thing is, I'm sure I didn't used to be such a procrastinator. When I was a kid, I was such a whirlwind of doing stuff that I'd be indoors in the middle of summer, working on array of little projects while all the other kids in the street ran under the sprinkler or snogged boys down at the playground. I need to find my way back to that kid's singleminded pursuit of her goals (minus the snogging - I don't think Mr Kitty would appreciate that so much).

Which is why I'm conducting a little experiment on myself. In about a month, it's my birthday. That's my deadline. I figure a month is enough time to trial the 'fake it 'til you make it' technique - ie, I'm going to pretend to be a very organised, motivated and efficient person and hope it becomes reality. I'm going to force myself to work through my mammoth 'to do' list in the hope it'll stick and I'll be that person for real.

Some of the stuff I want to get done is trivial - like finding a bloke to hang the wallpaper in my bedroom. (Yes, I even procrastinate about wallpaper.) Some of it is health-related: I want to give up weeknight drinking, run at least three times a week and get reacquainted with my weights.

But most of the things on my list are about reconnecting with my creativity and passion for what I do. I know it's still there, but I think the act of churning out words for money has frightened it away. I've made my creativity feel cheap and dirty!

I'll spare you the minutiae of the tasks I have planned and the goals I've set for myself. Suffice it to say, the Birthday Experiment list is looooong and I'll need every moment of this next month to tick off everything on it. Wish me luck!

And in case you were sitting there thinking 'she's lost it - what has any of this got to do with weight loss?', let me spell it out. Spring is traditionally a time of growth and new beginnings. While I'm choosing to get rid of my bad habits and be 'reborn' as a can-do person, perhaps you could use the new season as the catalyst for some new healthy habits in your life. Sit down and actually write yourself a list of the changes you want to make. Want to start going to the gym? Want to cut down from two sugars in your tea to one? Want to learn to cook healthy Asian food? Write it down. Then write another list of all the ways you can achieve the things on your first list. Do it now!

A word of advice, though. Don't set yourself the goal of shedding a certain number of kilos. If a number on the scales is the sole measure of your progress, you'll fail to see and celebrate all the other things you're achieving along the way. Make healthy changes to your lifestyle, and the weight loss will follow.

You may not have a birthday coming up, so feel free to use mine as your deadline. Just get cracking. NOW IS THE TIME!

Shall I compare thee to a Krispy Kreme?

2009-08-31T09:32:00.005+10:00

Since I went freelance I've developed the annoying habit of constantly comparing my life to the lives of almost everyone I meet. I think it's because I have more time on my hands, but somehow I seem to have convinced myself pretty much everyone is enjoying a more interesting, glamourous existence than me.

Last week, for example, I interviewed an American woman who owns a boutique in New York City. She's slim, trendy, the mother of a gorgeous toddler, married to minor British royalty and gets to play dress ups all day in the world's greatest city. Oh, and she was really, really nice. Don't you just hate her?!

But after I'd spent several minutes lamenting my own lack of slimness, trendiness, toddlerness, aristocratic husbandness and Big Apple boutiqueness, I realised her life probably isn't all it's cracked up to be. Maybe she's stressed to the max because she's running a retail business in the midst of America's worst recession since the Great Depression. Maybe she feels constantly guilty as she tries to juggle her family with her demanding job. Maybe her husband is all 'stiff upper lip' and no fun at all.

Maybe, just maybe, she thinks the Aussie bird who works when she has to (in her PJs) and spends the rest of her time playing in the sunshine by the world's greatest harbour has it pretty darn good.

As women, it's not just lives we like to compare. We're also pretty obsessed with playing 'spot the difference' between our bodies and those of apparently every other gal we encounter. Who among us hasn't spied a woman with a big bum and thought 'is my backside bigger or smaller than hers?' And hands up if you've watched some supermodel-esque chick sashay down the street and immediately assumed she was on her way home to her waterfront mansion and movie star boyfriend who will, obviously, ravish her all afternoon and then clean the bathroom.

The point is, there is no point comparing ourselves to other women all the damn time. Sure, some other gal might have thinner thighs than you - but maybe she hates her stomach or she has bingo wings. Or maybe her figure is indeed flawless... but she's a complete moron and has no friends. Maybe she's looking at you thinking 'that woman has fabulous hair' or 'I wonder where she got that to-die-for handbag'.

Sometimes a little comparison can be useful. I've just dug my weights out of the cupboard, for example, because I'd like my arms to be a little more Jennifer Aniston. But even Jen has her issues - great guns do not a charmed life make.

So that's my mission for this week: less comparison, more appreciation of what I've got. Give it a try!

Totally amazing excellent discovery!

2009-08-31T09:18:00.002+10:00

And no, it's not the SuckKut! *

It's Podrunner, a series of genius FREE workout music mixes by US DJ Steve Boy. How am I only just discovering this?! It's the best thing, like, ever!

DJ Steve creates house and techno mixes that crank along at specific beats per minute... I've just downloaded a 134bpm mix (because I run slooooowly) and it gets me up those hills with... well, not ease... but less complaining than usual.

And did I mention it's FREE! Go there now!

Meanwhile, big ol' jeers to Three Piece Suite's crackpot weight-loss product of the week, Burner Balm. It's lip gloss that allegedly suppresses your appetite and burns fat. I say allegedly because it's obviously total and utter bollocks, innit? Just think about it: a lip gloss that burns fat. What about any of that sounds sensible, lasting or, you know, possible? Puh-leeease.

* Wayne's World, people. Get the net!