The Suitcase I Hope I'll Never Need

This week I accidentally made the saltiest chicken known to mankind.

I found a bottle of jerk seasoning in the cupboard, and made the mistake of using it as a rub. I coated some chicken thighs in it and popped them in the air fryer feeling rather pleased with myself. Except, when we came to eat it, it was almost inedible. Not just a bit salty. The sort of salty where your mouth goes dry after one bite and you're wondering whether your blood pressure has just doubled.

Did I stop eating it?

Of course not.

I endured nearly half of it (3 thighs) over two days because I didn't want to waste it. The rest is still in the fridge waiting to be thrown away because even I have my limits.

As I was suffering my way through it, I found myself thinking how ridiculous it was that I'd rather eat food I wasn't enjoying than admit defeat and throw it away.

Then I realised it wasn't really about the chicken at all.

It's amazing how many things we carry around from childhood without even noticing.

Growing up, we weren't allowed to leave the table until our plates were empty. You ate what was put in front of you. Waste wasn't an option.

Looking back, I do wonder whether that's one of the many tiny things that quietly shaped my relationship with food. I don't remember ever stopping because I was full. I stopped because my plate was empty.

One of the most interesting things about taking Mounjaro has been discovering what stopping eating when you’re "full" actually feels like.I mean leaving maybe even one or two mouthfuls, I genuinely don’t think I’d ever truly done this before. Not properly, as in an everyday habit. These days I’m mostly eating my lunch because I’m monitoring macros and I need the protein – hence enduring the ridiculous chicken.

It's one of those things you assume everyone experiences the same way until one day you realise they don't, and that theme had seemed to follow me around all week.

On Sunday morning I decided to tackle my wardrobe. I'd already been through my tops earlier in the week so this time it was the dresses. As I sorted through stuff, trying everything on, there was a definite pattern emerging.

Lots of things went into my Vinted pile which, a few years ago, I'd have happily worn to networking events. Smart dresses in block colours - still perfectly nice but somehow don't feel like me any more.

I don't think it's just a me thing either. I think lockdown quietly changed the way lots of us dress with everything feeling a bit more relaxed now.

But I also realised it wasn't really just about that. The clothes I was getting rid of weren't just too smart. They belonged to a version of me who felt she needed to look "businessy."

These days I still love making an effort. I still love colour and dressing up, probably more than ever. I just don't feel the need to dress like my version of a businesswoman.

Not everything was joining the Vinted pile even though it wasn’t going back in the wardrobe though. There was a pile of clothes that I still love but are currently miles too big. They have gone into a suitcase.

The suitcase is labelled, at least in my head, "just in case."

Just in case I put the weight back on.

When I stop and think about that, I realise how many years of yo-yo dieting are packed into that one little phrase.

Just in case.

Part of me doesn't quite trust this version of me to stick around. I think that's understandable after decades of losing weight and eventually finding it again. I’m currently halfway to my ultimate goal and that still feels a very long way from the finish line.

My hope is that after I've maintained my goal for at least a year I'll believe it isn't temporary.

Until then there's the suitcase.

The rest of the week was quite ordinary, client calls, recording videos etc.

I went to my joint pain programme at the gym twice. It’s definitely not my favourite place before I go but I am starting to feel ever so slightly glad I went afterwards.

On Thursday I ended up chatting to a couple of the women afterwards over coffee in the cafe bit. ( I had a pomegranate San Pelligrino though, not coffee, it was very nice.) They asked what I did, I’m not sure my talk of sausages and Funky Divas was landing, so I showed them my Instagram.

Their faces were priceless, apparently Gym Lisa and Instagram Lisa are two very different people.

There I was in a black t-shirt and leggings, no make-up, hair a bit wayward, while on my phone was someone in leopard print, bright lipstick and oversized glasses talking about Funky Diva Vibes.

I found that really amusing more than anything.

Years ago I'd have put make-up on whether I was seeing anyone or not, including for the gym. I liked feeling ready to face the world in case I suddenly needed to pop out.

These days swimming and the gym have become acceptable make-up free zones.

Some days I wear a full face, other days I wear my basics but alsoI have days with no make up at all. It’s not because I've stopped caring, I think it’s just because I'm becoming increasingly more comfortable with myself.

Then Saturday was one of those days that reminds me exactly what a lovely life can look like. Paul and I had leisurely morning then had a joyride through the Peak District.

Miles of green fields stretching into the distance, followed by homemade steak pie, chips and peas in one of our favourite pubs. (which I didn’t finish btw)

I just love the panoramic views, living in the city, you don't realise how much your eyes crave space until suddenly there it is. I always find myself letting out a big internal "aaahhh” when we get what I call the ‘top of the world’ view.

We were home by teatime, pyjamas on then Drag Race on the telly. A perfect date day for us.

In total contrast on Sunday evening we were back at drag bingo and karaoke.

Neither of us won the bingo this week. I was one number away both times! So frustrating. We did a duet this week, Tainted Love. (I think we could do with a bit of practise.)

What I love most about the karaoke definitely isn't the singing. It's the atmosphere. Nobody cares whether you can sing. Nobody's judging and everybody joins in, the whole point is simply to have a good time. And we definitely do.

As I’ve looked over my week, it’s struck me that there is a thread running through all these completely unrelated moments.

·The chicken.

·The wardrobe.

·The suitcase.

·The make-up.

·The gym.

They are all little reminders that some of the things I've always thought were just "who I am" might not actually be fixed at all.

·Perhaps I'm not someone who has to finish everything on my plate.

·Perhaps I'm not someone who needs a wardrobe full of businessy clothes to be a business woman.

·Perhaps I'm not someone who has to be wearing make-up every time I leave the house.

·Perhaps I'm not someone who has to earn a leisurely Saturday before I'm allowed to enjoy one.

Its made me think that the biggest shifts don't necessarily arrive with fireworks or dramatic life decisions.

Sometimes they creep in so quietly that you don't even notice they've happened until you're standing in front of a wardrobe, wondering why half the clothes no longer feel like yours.

Maybe that's today's Squish Spot.

What have you quietly accepted as "just the way I am"...maybe you also have stuff you've been carrying around for so long it's started being your identity?