The Accidental Trad Wife

‘Another day another rejection’, I WhatsApp’d my husband. He came through from his home office set up in the spare room, to talk to me. I was horizontal on the balcony listening to the audiobook of Lord of the Rings. 

I’m quite enjoying the story, I have never felt the urge to read, listen to, or watch it before; it’s long. But I suppose I’ve got the time now. I like the Hobbits. All the eating, drinking, adventuring and singing sounds quite ideal. 

I took my headphones off. My husband suggested trying something completely different. 

‘Why don’t you become a yoga teacher?’

I laughed. ‘I’m not exactly a fit Instagram influencer with abs am I!’. 

‘That’s why people would sign up to you.’ he said, honestly. 

He’s got a point. I don’t feel comfortable enough to go to a gym with all my wiggly and jiggly bits, it’s not a stretch to think I’m not the only one. 

I don’t think it’s for me. But…maybe? 

Being overweight in a rare British heatwave is hard. Do you try not to care, and just wear what’s coolest? Or do you cover up your flabby bits and overheat? Neither is comfortable, but I tend to err towards the former. 

I’ve been holding an extra stone or so for the past few years. I probably can’t keep saying it’s just Christmas weight. BMI would tell you I’m overweight, but at 5 foot 8, I hold it reasonably well. Maybe I’m trying to excuse it? I’d like to be thinner. Social norms dictate I should probably say fitter, or healthier, but in truth I’d like to be thinner. 

But I like food. And I like wine.

I’m a UK size 12, OK, sometimes a 14. My relationship with food is currently good. It hasn’t always been though. Like many people, I’ve collected my badges in all the diet fads. Low carb – check, low calorie – check, swigging apple cider vinegar for no logical reason – check, raw food – check, smaller plates – check. Mum, if you’re reading this and falling into a worry spiral, you’re not the influence. Relax. 

I’m smart enough to know that all of these are about calories in, and calories out. But somehow I, and others, still try them, with hope of a miracle. Ozempic now seems to be the miracle, but, without judgement on others, it’s not for me. 

I’ll leave it there, and serve up dinner: spiced chicken, rice and broccoli. Food I like, and I’m hoping hasn’t been influenced by any trend. But really, who knows?