Friday 30 October 2015

Double Chins and Film Making



The lady in the top two pictures is Liz Thomas, the lady in the bottom two pictures is me playing Liz Thomas 



I haven't yet mentioned here that I am an Actress. It feels appropriate to bring that up at this point, as I look at body image. 



This year I was asked to play an incredible real life woman in a sizzle reel for a feature film. A sizzle reel is a trailer for a feature that hasn't yet been made, a marketing tool to help secure the necessary funding. I was asked to play the part at this stage namely because I look a lot like the woman the film is based on.


A common reaction of mine when confronted with a new acting role is to do everything within my power to not take the role. Even as I audition for parts, in my head I have one foot firmly out the door. It's fear and I believe it's normal. Self-doubt has to go hand in hand with a new challenge. So when I was presented with a picture of the woman it was another reason for me not to play the part. Why? Because the picture horrified me. 




You think I look like that?



In fact, I now think she is beautiful, but what I first saw was my own worst nightmare, my biggest "flaw" staring back at me, a round face.


My round face has been my nemesis my entire life. It is my father's and nan's face shape. Both faces, incidentally, that I love. On top of that I have what is known in the family as "the Gannon jaw." I personally think both traits, the round face and the Gannon jaw work fine separately, I've never looked at my Mum or my aunties and paid much note to their jaws, fine jaws so they are. But the round face and the sort of slackness, looseness that comes with the Gannon jaw, together...well.


Now luckily for the character, she doesn't have the Gannon jaw, except on profile in one picture...she has it and incidentally that was the picture where I saw myself the most. But she does have a round face and that was all I could see. I looked at the image and I saw a round face. I saw my own biggest insecurity being presented to me as "don't you look like this woman?" And it made me want to run and hide.


Now in fact, as we've filmed, I've not only seen the similarity between us, I've also realised that Liz has the kind of round face, I didn't realise at the time, but that I used to enjoy. She has a round face but it's not a fat face. I hated my round face but when I look at pictures from a few years ago I realise that it's a fine shape face. The issue is, when you have a round face and you put weight on there is no escaping it. There it is, all over your face.
And when you have a Gannon jaw and you put weight on, well, there's a double chin. Now I think I could cope with one or the other, a fat face but a firm jaw, or a double chin but cheekbones. But both...BOTH?


The thing is, as I have fallen in love with the character I've enjoyed our similarities more and more. In fact, I am proud to say I do look like her. However, when your face is the only thing in frame and you have an insecurity, you will zoom in on it. So as the Director has been excited to play back scenes to me, proud of what we are making, all I can see is a double chin and fat cheeks. And that focus, that criticism of my face takes away all the pleasure I had moments before in creating this character, in following in her footsteps, in learning about her life. And quite frankly, that's not fair. 




Like the crew around me, I want the enjoyment of making the piece to be at the forefront of my mind when I watch it, not my own self-hate. 



Shortly after the last shoot day we had, I went to Devon for a week by myself. When I got into bed in the mobile home I had rented, I realised the wall opposite was all mirrored doors. Handy for me to take my make up off whilst in bed, but less pleasant when sat in bed reading. I kept catching glimpses of my face. 




But then something magical happened. After a couple of days in my own company, doing all the things I love and have missed and for some reason forgotten about this year, I could catch my face in the mirror and it wasn't horrifying. In fact, after a few days I was actively seeking out my own face and even, changing in front of the mirror. Actual upper thighs and belly and stuff. And no, I wasn't suddenly enraptured and overjoyed but I wasn't repulsed. There was me, a little heavier than I used to be, possibly a bit more tired than before but not horrifying. 




My reaction to my reflection was directly related to how I had been feeling personally. For many reasons, this year I haven't done anything just for me. I haven't walked by the river in London, my favourite place, I haven't been to the theatre alone, I haven't been to an art gallery, I haven't sat in a cafe for hours and read, I haven't gone for long walks and I haven't enjoyed myself half as much. I've felt as though my schedule was so busy and on everyone else's terms. I've felt out of control. 




With that feeling, my mood has dropped. With my mood, my self image has dropped. Which, is why I decided I had to do this blog. To take the time to think about the plans I am making, the food I am eating, the drinks I am drinking and to listen to myself. To treat as worthy, my own personal needs. 




I could not have started this blog until that moment. The moment I looked in the mirror, saw all the flaws, accepted them and decided that yes, I want to go for another walk with just myself, because just myself is actually enough. Just myself, right where I am, right now, double chin and all. 




On Sunday, I will shoot the last scenes as the woman with the round face and I hope when we're finished, I can watch the material and instead of zoning in on my chin and cheeks, I'll do the normal actress thing of cringing that THAT is what I'm doing when I'm performing? Which is as it should be. I'm not going to hope to enjoy watching myself, that's impossible, watching yourself pretend to be someone else is far harder than acting it. Heck, it's why Theatre is so brilliant, as the actor, you never have to watch. 




So, if you're here with me, and especially if you have that voice in your head who likes to criticise everything about you, do me a favour, spend time doing what you love and do it with just you, and then see if you can face the mirror a little easier afterwards. It's not about changing who you are. It's about learning to love who you are. Being your own friend is the best way to see you the way everyone else does, and no one else (as every one keeps telling me) notices your double chin as if it were a separate being, they just see you and all that you encompass. Double chin or no double chin, your chin is not all that you are. Take the time to remember all the things you are, and take the time to enjoy who you are. 



Tuesday 27 October 2015

Punishment vs Reward (and broken toes)


My reward for feeding the cat roast chicken  



Day one of the no Sugar started well but ended in another broken toe. Apparently furniture is dangerous and you should all be well warned that if you have furniture in your houses then your toes are at grave risk of injury.



What made this all the more painful, was that I was in the middle of cooking a chicken, leek and mushroom pie with a sweet potato topping when it happened. I was so proud of myself and happy and listening to music and drafting a blog post in my head as I went. In fact, it was returning from taking a photo of some roasted sweet potato skins (left over from the mash topping) somewhere other than the kitchen, which looked like a bomb had gone off, that my toe and the incriminating furniture were to end in battle. I don't want to compare what my toe went through to say...the 100 year war, but the piece of furniture in question is a French inspired piece...



Anyway, broken toes aside, the pie was finished and eaten and although it wasn't enjoyed last night (pain does interfere with appetite), it was thoroughly enjoyed today. 



But none of this is the reason I write here. I wanted to write here because a few of the comments I've had since sharing the blog made me want to explain the concept of what I am doing a bit more. Firstly, I must stress, all the comments I have had have been positive and supportive but just the tone of a few struck a chord.




I think the word 'Quit' can be quite loaded. Same as 'Give up'. They feel negative, almost like punishments. The point of this year is in fact the opposite. I'm not punishing myself, that is what I have been doing. This is about rewarding myself.



My depression takes form mostly through self-criticism. I am extremely hard on myself. Recently, the focus of that criticism has been my body and my face and changes to the shape of both. I had therapy for two years and whilst the sessions have ended, the need for therapy never really goes away. What a good therapist will leave a patient with is the tools to continue the work alone, until such a time comes where a therapist is required again. So even when I am being self-critical, at the back of my mind I am asking the sort of questions my therapist would ask of these negative thoughts. Trying to work through the obvious to the vague. 



It is very easy to be critical of weight gain on yourself. It seems so reckless, lazy and shameful. But often our diet and our weight reflect what is happening in our minds. Certainly my diet does. The worse I have felt, the unhealthier I have been. The unhealthier I have been, the worse I have felt and on and on and on it goes in a circle.



I have "rewarded" my bad day, my sad day, my self-hate with chocolate, wine, beer, pasta with nothing but cheese, cake, sweets, crisps. In fact, on some of my worst days I've gone and bought so much chocolate and sweets, unable to choose, I've then eaten my way through as much of them as I can in order to "treat" myself. I've made myself feel sick and rarely even enjoyed them past the first bar of chocolate, felt sluggish on the inside, got spots. It's been a long while since I had one of those days, but it's been all too recent since I "treated" myself to wine because I had a bad day, then the next day, then the next. Maybe just one glass, maybe two, sometimes recklessly. It's never made me feel better. I've enjoyed it for a glass but it stops being a treat when you do it every night, when you don't really even look forward to it. It's automatic: stressed, sad, tired? Have a glass of wine, have a bar of chocolate, open the biscuit tin at work. 



I want to get back to enjoying everything, and that includes all the things I am "quitting" over the next year. I don't believe in strict regimes, I don't believe in routine, in fact. I believe life is for living and enjoying and I want to enjoy all of it. I am enjoying very little of it at the moment, in the true sense of the word. Yes, chocolate tastes incredible, but like a lot of our culture it is so readily, easily available, do we even enjoy it? 



Perhaps I am old fashioned but I love getting a book as a present, a book where someone has thought about what I might enjoy. Or hearing a new piece of music someone has recommended because it made them think to send it to me. I can buy myself a book but I always love being given one. The same with socks, I'm obsessed with socks, I could buy a new pair every day of the week, but I love to wait for Christmas or my birthday and get socks as a present. To have a pair of socks that someone else has picked for me. There is real joy in waiting for something you love and being gifted it. 



Which is why, at the weekend when I was invited to a friends for afternoon tea and presented with a glass of Champagne, despite the fact I am not drinking at the moment, I accepted it gladly and I enjoyed the glass. I refused a top up and just savoured the one glass I had. Same too the cakes and sandwiches on offer. It was a real treat to have afternoon tea.



And that is the point of this year. To treat my body to some love and attention, to enjoy food for the right reasons and not use it as  a plaster or a mask for something else. To stop punishing myself by feeding the self-hate and not looking after my own health. If I take no care in what goes in my body, what am I telling my mental health? Once I have been on this journey, I hope to find at the end of it, the balance to living a healthy lifestyle where nothing is banished but everything is enjoyed in moderation, as part of a larger picture and to state the word again, enjoyed, savoured, appreciated. 



So please, do treat yourself to the glass of wine, the cake, the chocolate, the white bread. Just make sure it's a treat and not a punishment. If like me, you've been punishing yourself with food then, come along with me this year and lets see what we can discover when we get outside our habit and start exploring. 



I will say one thing to anyone thinking of joining in, and I will explore this in the next post, this is not about losing weight, changing bodies, or punishing regimes, this is about being loving to yourself. That has to start by accepting exactly where you are right now, wobbly bits and all (to be continued)...



Thursday 22 October 2015

Alcohol and Sheep Droppings Free


This is our field lady 



If you happen to cross through a field of sheep on your travels then you should be warned that avoiding treading on a sheep dropping is as difficult as avoiding alcohol in a pub. 



But it is possible.



Today, I did both. Okay, well, one of my crutches went in a Sheep dropping but I my actual self did not. 




I am on holiday in Devon at the moment, a week that was supposed to be spent walking and maybe even learning to surf, has been transformed somewhat by the broken toe I currently have and the crutches this necessitates. However, I have managed two reasonably short coastal walks. 



Short is in fact all relative, Elijah Wood, is for me perfectly formed, for others he is short. These walks would have been short for my able body but when I have to use my arms to walk, they have actually been long and arduous, and brilliant all the same. 



Today's walk started at a pub. I had passed it on the bus a few times this week and decided I needed to go and have a drink or some food there at some point, it has spectacular sea views from the back of it. I woke this morning with nothing on my to do list except publish my first blog post, written two days ago. With that task done I decided a pub lunch, a walk and a sit by the sea were in order. 



I got the bus to the pub, from where I would walk back to the beach near where I am staying. 



Since I decided to start this blog I have also been thinking about stopping drinking, possibly for a month, maybe a year, maybe indefinitely. It's been lingering at the back of my mind alongside the idea for this blog for a while. 



So on the bus I told myself that I would not have a drink today. That I would go for a soft drink. In fact, alcohol didn't appeal at all. As I searched my taste buds I found that not even cider was tempting me. So good, I would not drink today. 




As I stepped into the pub, (one you must visit if you're ever in the South Hams / Dartmouth area, The Kings Arms in Strete) I was greeted warmly by the lady behind the bar. 



I was informed there was a wait on food and no tables with a sea view. But the welcome was warm and the pub lovely, I was happy to sit without a view and wait for food.
"What do I want to drink?" I asked us both. "Would you like alcohol or a soft drink." 




I wavered. I could have a cider. I mean, there was a wait for food, so perhaps I should have a drink I would be able to sip slowly. I could have a cider. 



"What soft drinks do you have?"



Now this is truly what clinched it. Had she said, juice, lemonade, coke I would have gone for the cider. But she listed an array of interesting soft drinks, from pink lemonade to ginger beer to some nettle drink. I followed my taste buds and went with a pink lemonade. I washed this down with a ginger beer. Both were delightful and neither left me bloated, red faced or sluggish. 



As I said, I am on holiday and every day so far has included a drink. Not a lot of drink but a pint or two, possibly a glass of red wine. Each trip out has been "rewarded" with a drink. 



As I started to think about giving up drink, I ear marked Monday as the start. Finish the holiday first, visit the friends as planned on Sunday and then quit drink for a month, maybe more. 




This though seemed to ignore the entire reason for me wanting to give up alcohol alongside sugar (to clarify, I mean refined sugar - I will still be taking in good, natural sugars - and this I am starting when I am home with my own kitchen). I want to get out of the habit of "rewarding" myself with sweet treats or alcohol. Been a long day at work? Have a drink. Been for a good run? Have some chocolate. It's the weekend, have a drink. It's Monday and you survived, have a drink. It's 3pm and you've almost got through another day at work, have a biscuit. 



On holiday? Eat and drink whatever you like. In fact, eat and drink whatever you don't even like because it's holiday and holiday means having a drink, or a dessert even if you're a bit sick of both. 



That's the pattern of thinking I want to break. 



I want to be clear here, I don't have a problem with alcohol but I do have a lazy imagination when it's on the table. Especially living in London where despite there being an awful lot to do, it all revolves or exists very close to alcohol. 



There's the pub, a restaurant, a trip to the theatre, a trip to the cinema, a walk across the Heath which takes you to many a fine pub. There's alcohol in every catch up with friends and I've become lazy with it. 



"What shall we do?" "Shall we go for a drink?" 



But what if this wasn't an option anymore? What else might I find when I'm not just going for a drink with friends? Will I write more, walk more, exercise more, visit more cultural things, talk more? 



I want to rethink what "rewarding myself" means. Because I love walking, I love writing, I love reading, I love swimming, I love running, I love yoga and Pilates, I love coffee, I love cooking, I love eating good food, I love being by the sea, I love listening to music, I love learning new things, I love looking at art, I love history, I love watching documentaries, I love acting (once I've got over the fear of doing it), I love making new work and I love talking to my friends. So why are these not the rewards? Why is it always alcohol or chocolate or something that doesn't enrich particularly, that I turn to after a hard day, or because I am bored? 



So it is entirely fitting that I should give up alcohol whilst still on holiday and surrounded by things I truly love and enjoy. The sea, good books, my own thoughts, a pen and paper, nature, silence, music and the horizon. 



In the end avoiding alcohol was far less tricky than avoiding the sheep droppings as I left the pub for a good hike across a coastal path. As I entered the field the sheep all looked at me the way a whole village pub looks at you, a stranger, who just entered their bar and then ordered a soft drink. You strange being you...what brings you this way? 



And with a tentative step, I weaved my way through the carpet of their droppings as they stared at me. I put one wobbly step in front of the other and I got to the other side, dropping and alcohol free. 




Black Dog Quits Sugar






If I were to listen to the voice that is constantly telling me what is wrong with me, and if I were to pick one to focus on it would be consistency. 


If I were to listen to it all the time and hear all the faults I'd probably just climb under a rock and never reappear. But when it comes to consistency, I think it's on to something. 


Who else is guilty of this? 

I'm going to lose weight 

I'm going to learn a new language

I'm going to learn an instrument

I'm going to wake up an hour early every day and go for a run

I'm going to write a diary every day

I'm going to write the novel I've been dreaming of

I am going to spend more time with family

I am....


...going to make lists of things I'm going to do my entire life until I die. But I didn't put die on the list so HOW CAN I DIE? It's not on the list. 


Ideas. That's my problem. Okay, so if I was to listen to the voice that daily tells me what is wrong with me and pick two things, I'd pick consistency and ideas. Too many ideas. 


Ha! You scoff, that's not a problem. Alack, alas, by Jove, be my witness, it is. Much like the sentence that preceded this one, I had so many ideas and ways to voice that idea that I could go on and on and on thinking about how to start and by the time I had started a brand new idea would have stolen my attention. My inconsistent attention. 


Oh hi there idea, you're mighty fine looking, you're like Prince Harry in a hard hat, why - I could stare at you all day. And that is what I shall do. No, wait, the Elijah Wood of ideas has entered my peripheral and he's so small and perfectly formed and decent. Sorry Harry, but ultimately, I don't think I want to be a Princess, I want to roam and explore and be all musical and WAIT - is that the Ben Howard of ideas singing to me? What a pretty tune he weaves. I shall sit and listen until the sun goes down and then maybe I'll write something. 


What were we talking about? 


Oh, yes, weight gain. You see, if I was to listen to the voice that tells me everything that's wrong with me every day and pick three things to focus on, they would be consistency, ideas and fat. 


I'm fat with ideas, I'm fat with food, I'm fat without exercise and I am inconsistent or as the voice prefers, lazy. 


If I don't see the fat that seemingly keeps growing on my arms, legs, hips, face (WHY THE FACE?! Save at least the face - COME ON!) change after one day of exercise and or diet, then, well, I move onto the next idea. 


One cake won't make a difference, heck, not eating it yesterday didn't make a difference, so why will eating it today make a difference? 


Oh shut up future, no one wants to know you yet. You, you're filled with failures and lost dreams and worst of all, hope. I won't stare at your bright light because I am besieged by ideas and plans and fat right now, today, here, now. You can't help me with your promise of something else, you're too far away. 


If I'm honest, I don't much like the idea of hiding under a rock and so I will strike a deal with the critique in my head and agree that from now on, all we talk about are those three faults. I'm not having more. Shove them. Shove them right where that rock hiding place is and walk away. 


But if we are to have a dialogue about all this then, to use my own fault against me, we're going to have to be consistent. This is an idea. It's been an idea for a while. One I've flirted with and put back down and left behind for fancier ideas. But I keep coming back to it and now here it is, on one knee, promising that this will be really really hard work but all the best things are. That together, we are stronger. That if my hands weren't so fat it would be putting a diamond on my finger. I hate diamonds. I knew this idea was shit! It doesn't even know that I hate diamonds. 


Okay, sorry, idea, you were saying...


I know you're really scared of commitment and routine freaks you out and familiarity is damn right terrifying and trying means maybe failing and failing means nothing, it means nothing at all. You fail, you start again, you move on. But not trying, not starting, not committing to one single thing means staring in the mirror and seeing real failure. Seeing all the things you hate about yourself staring right back. Seeing your own fear and it's ugly. 


The idea takes my hand in his, we're both crying now, "do you, Miss Smith, promise to walk this path with me. To write even when you feel terrible. To stick with me through thick, thin, fat and terrible. To be consistent in your effort, especially when you fall. To stop searching for an idea and to do, to do this one idea?"



"I do."



And so begins: ladies and gentlemen who struggle with the black dog, who have gained weight, who feel stuck in a rut, who want to be healthier, here begins 'Black Dog quits sugar'. In which I spend a year trying to get healthy, give up the white beast and see if I'm consistent I can actually lose weight as a happy side effect. But more importantly, if I can stay with an idea, battle my own doubts, stare in the mirror and keep going, even if I don't like what stares back and consistently write about it all. 



I would like to add as a footnote that the idea and I had this conversation over two days and on two different beaches. It was so romantic, so it was...