I Woke Up Fat

OneGoodArm Swear Scale: Flabby Fucks are given.

Fuck a duck, did I swell up overnight? Perhaps I have been bitten by a spider that causes swelling to the whole body. Or I am allergic to air? Or Husband? Something has gone wrong because I went to bed normal and woke up in a different body.

Unfortunately i have struggled with my weight my whole life. I am always in some kind of pattern – either a completely disciplined starvation | abstinence mode or just eating everything in sight and wearing all my ‘fat clothes’.

There is no in between. And I can both drop kilos in a weekend and pile them on twice as quickly.

So after the accident I basically didn’t eat for months because I was in pain constantly and I was happily a byproduct of starving. Then I had my surgery and that knocked some flab off me as I didn’t eat for a week in ICU.

Then as your body gets used to the pain and your appetite comes back you start to eat. And eat. And drink. It’s a problem.

So in order to try and avoid getting fat I gave up bread. Oddly as soon as I did that I started to put on weight. But it was just a bit so I ignored it assuming rapid non bread intake weight loss would undoubtedly follow.

I kept on eating bullets and drinking scotch. Not every day, well bullets every day, but not the scotch. In fact I just stuffed bullets into my mouth just a few moments ago. And now I want some more.

Now my brain is pretty good at fooling me into thinking everything is fine in order to seek out more food and tell me I should eat it. I will suddenly start wearing clothes that will allow more girth, a bit more flubbery here and there, and I won’t notice. “Oh wear this stretchy skirt today” my brain will excitedly say, “hmmm seems a bit tight?” I say after dragging it up over my junk filled trunk – “it just been washed” my brain will tell itself, it’s got the ‘just washed shrinkage’ phenomena going on.

Oh! Of course. Now hand me that banana bread.

And the clothes that I bought in 2017 when a) I was starving and b) when I was not under a self imposed shopping ban, are suddenly not going with anything. My brain says “no don’t wear that today, nothing will match it” and I move right along to the next larger thing available.

This has going on for a few months. But today, it all came a screaming halt. Yesterday I rode Rooster and dragged out my old brown jodhpurs which are normally too big for me and they were not, too big. Hmmm. So I paid the porkery no mind as I had a great ride and felt very happy and exhausted.

Then today I got up and put on a pair of pants that i bought last year (but at that time they were too big for me), and today, perfect fit. I still though looked down and went, ah it’s fine, maybe I am remembering incorrectly.


So I cooked pancakes and got voted best parent ever as ice cream was allowed (and I am awesome at pancakes with three pans going and only one arm). Then I took the kids, got the landcruiser, hooked up the trailer, took said trailer and children to the arena, loaded eight fence panels onto trailer, took said panels to my round yard and installed them, which is MUCH harder than it sounds with one arm on a hill, got everyone lunch, put baby to bed, got changed, hung out washing, got the baby horse out this time (not Rooster) and worked him in the new larger round yard then took him to the arena.

I told Husband if he didn’t ‘chuck a spaz’ in the round yard with the saddle on I would give him a 2 minute ride. He was completely entitled to chuck a spaz as he is

• Only 2 years old
• Green broken to saddle
• Not been ridden in EIGHT MONTHS since breaking in
• Fat as a fool (which in horses encourages spazery)
• Only 2 years old

So amazingly only a small spaz was chucked and i got quietly confident. So down at the arena I got Husband to hold a lead from the bridle and told him should any real spazery come forth, hang the fuck on to him until I bail out.

Wonderfully he was an angel, the horse not Husband, well him too actually, and he didn’t not put a whisker out of place. Given I had worked him hard already in the round yard I told Husband to ‘let us go’ and rode him around but only stayed in the saddle for about 6-7 minutes. A little walk, a little trot.

That’ll do donkey, that’ll do.

And I got Husband to capture said moment on film.

FUCK WHAT A MISTAKE THAT WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh my god. I was actually shocked at the person in the photo. Perhaps there was another person – who is clearly pregnant – he was photographing, riding my horse, using my phone whilst I was busy eating bullets. It’s possible right??!

Hahahaha. No Roxanne, you are a moron.

So I have reached the point in my cycle where I realise I have to stop eating my body weight in anything that is not celery and be good for a bit. It’s not a pleasant destination. Humorous though.

Now don’t, please, think I am fishing for compliments, or obsessed with being a size 8 (have you seen me, no that is not happening) I’m not, i just like being 68 kilos. It’s my favourite weight. And currently I am five hundred pieces of banana bread past there.

Annoyingly I have eaten almost no banana bread all year. (It’s not bread, it’s cake).

Oh well. Someone, hand me some scotch.

OGFA Out. 😝

Life is a Roller Coaster

OneGoodArm Swear Scale: Low Range

It’s only Wednesday and this week has been up, down, forward, backward, inside out, upside down – you get it. Someone came back into my life, a tiny bit, someone shuffled a little way out, I cried, I worked, I flew, went on a date night with Husband and someone died – it’s been hectic.

I find life exhausting sometimes. Not just because of the disability or the pain, leaving them way out in the wilderness for a moment, it’s just life in general is exhausting. And it’s hard.

There are so many things to worry about, and I am a well established worrier, worrying about my children, Husband, paying bills, debt, jobs, chores, my animals, my health, the environment, plastic in the ocean, the plight of turtles, brown bears, elephants and everything else.

It’s a lot to deal with. For like, the whole planet.

Earlier in the week, yesterday actually, in a chapter of the book “fragile lives” Prof. Westaby (a heart surgeon) talks about a young woman who after losing her mother at 10 months old from a massive stroke caused by a rare heart tumour which shed little pieces of tumour causing a blockage in the brain, suffered a massive stroke herself at the tender age of twenty something.

This left her a quadriplegic and unable to speak. She also had the rare heart tumour. She then proceeded to have FIVE heart surgeries over the course of the next few years as the tumour, after being removed, kept coming back. More than three heart surgeries is apparently unheard of.

So if you think your life is difficult stories like this can shut you the fuck up. And also make you depressed. This one did a little of both. FYI buy the book, it’s amazing.

So tonight Husband took me on a dinner date. This is VERY rare. Not because Husband is slack but because we are never together alone without the children. Or even together with the children. Or together and awake.

I had come home from work and changed out of my corporate clothes into a dress. When I came out of the bedroom daughter exclaims

“Mum! Oh My God, you look beautiful!”

Now coming from a 5yo that is both a totally authentic response and 100% inaccurate. I didn’t care however and beamed a big smile at her.

So we headed off for our date, i had no idea where to, and then slowed down the car going past the in-laws, chucked the kids out with “tuck and roll” instructions and sped off in a cloud of dirt and tyre smoke.

We arrived at the most beautiful restaurant which I have been wanting to go to for months. Yay! It was Greek and so beautiful. I ordered a glass of Lost Turtle (OMG!) and Husband and I proceeded to stuff our stupid faces with more meat than a butchery.

And potatoes.

And Dip. Taramosalata. Dribble.

And Greek Donuts.


We had a wonderful time talking to each others faces, eating and laughing. During dinner I told Husband that I had not yet called a friend of ours who I promised I would call a week or so ago. This friend is a fellow motorcycle racer who has an amputated arm and leg, on the same side. I have mentioned him before.

I was planning to call him and talk to him about his first return to two wheels and how that went. He had graciously and enthusiastically agreed to chat and help me.

Husband looked weird and proceeded to break the news to me, he had died. Yesterday. I was genuinely shocked and felt so sad. He was such a great guy. An amazing guy. Someone who did not complain and made the most out of his life.

Shit. Life is such a fucker sometimes.

So now in front of my iPad i feel a bit flat. A bit exhausted. A bit overwhelmed. I will go to bed because it’s late. And Husband is snoring next to me on the lounge. But on the way I will kiss the babies again, tuck their blankets back over them, ignore my pain and be thankful to be alive.

So should you.

And tomorrow I see the EP to take a look at my bicep.

OGA Out.