Happily Unsociable

I have recently uncovered the key to living with social ineptitude that could have saved me countless painful evenings in the company of near-strangers: Just. Say. No. It’s so simple yet so effective; I’m almost embarrassed to admit I haven’t tried it earlier. I stumbled upon this amazing technique when I decided I'd had enough of trying to force myself into being something I’m not (social, entertaining, interesting etc.) so I just wasn't going to bother anymore. It took some practice, and a few false starts, but I'm now quite adept at it. One of the key elements, I’ve discovered, is to offer no excuse. Saying “I’m busy” or “I have something else on” just invites polite questions about the obviously fabulous social event that’s keeping you from this one. A smile and a mildly disappointed look while saying “I’m sorry, I can’t make it” is all that’s required. And the best part is that nine times out of ten no one asks why. Perhaps they don’t ask because they don’t really care if I’m there or not, which is a win-win in my book. Most often I think they don’t ask because it’s assumed the only reason you’d turn down any social invitation is because you had something else to do, which is actually kind of true. They just don’t need to know that the something else is staying home with a good book rather than subjecting myself (and others) to the horror of my attempted socialising. On the very rare occasions that they do ask I’ve taken the boldly honest approach of admitting that I'm just not keen on parties, which most people seem to accept as a valid excuse, at least to my face.

Now I’m kicking myself for all those years of going along to things when I really didn't want to, or thinking up excuses and then feeling guilty about them. Don’t get me wrong, I do very much enjoy going out and spending time with my friends and family, and I even enjoy meeting new people, I just don't enjoy the big party or group dinner with people I don’t know – or worse, with people I do know, but don’t have anything much in common with. It’s not personal, I’m sure they’re all very lovely and interesting people, but I’ve never been capable of small talk and getting-to-know-you conversation, and I just can’t be arsed feeling guilty about it anymore. And while I appreciate the kindness and attempted inclusiveness, most of the time I really am happy to be “left out.” I do think a lot of it comes down to age; it’s so much easier being a dull homebody in my 40s than it ever was in my 20s. It’s a myth that all young people like going out, partying, getting drunk etc. I never did. Of course I do wish I could look back fondly on a wild and crazy youth, but I've never been inclined to do anything particularly wild or crazy, even then. I imagine that to some, much more sociable people, the idea of always choosing a quiet night in over a “fun” party is unthinkable, possibly even a little sad, and maybe they’re right. The main difference now is that I don't much care what people think anymore. Middle age is kind of awesome like that.

Where's My F***ing Cake?! Part 2: Dazed and Confused.

So it’s been a few weeks since I entered the sucky, deprivation filled world of dieting and the bad mood should really be kicking in about now, but so far it hasn’t surfaced. Normally by this stage I’d start daydreaming about food cartoon-style - streetlamps look like ice cream cones, people’s heads look like giant donuts etc. I should be imagining everything tastes better than the drab food I have to eat and racing through the chocolate aisle at the supermarket trying to avoid eye contact with the Lindor balls, but it just isn’t happening this time around, and it's kind of freaking me out! I am making sure I get a small treat most days, and I have given myself permission to enjoy anything I like in restaurants since I don’t eat out all that often anyway, so I’m not completely deprived. But mostly I think having a good reason (other than to be smaller) to keep at it has made the biggest difference. Motivation appears to work for me, who knew? It’s quite the revelation. I do still expect the bad times to kick in sooner rather than later, but that might just be my innate pessimism talking.

I have done some things differently this time around to give myself the maximum opportunity to succeed; I've told people, for one. Not everyone, and only if it comes up in general conversation, but I have actually said it out loud several times. Most people are supportive, encouraging and sympathetic, even the ones who haven't had to deal with a weight problem themselves. Telling people is always a double-edged sword, however. While on the one hand it makes it easier to turn down food being offered without making it a big deal, on the other I also have to deal with those people who take it upon themselves to "help" me. You know the ones, watching everything that goes into your mouth, making little comments like "are you allowed to have that?" and "aren't you on a diet?" I know they're trying to be helpful but you know what? It doesn't help. Not even a little bit. I am more than capable of feeling guilty all by myself, thanks. To be fair, these are generally the people that don't know me very well, because if they did they'd know it’s not going to be appreciated. I know they mean well and they think they’re helping me stay on the straight and narrow but, and I say this with all the kindness and understanding in the world, they really need to shut the fuck up. No one wants to feel judged and criticised, especially about something that they judge and criticise themselves for every day.

I’ve also just not been so hard on myself when things do go awry. Of course there has been the occasional bump in the road and cravings that just had to be satisfied, but I have avoided falling into a pit of despair because of it, which is a major hurdle in itself. I do guilt so well, and never as efficiently as when I’m making myself feel bad about something inconsequential. And I miss cake. A lot. While I can be satisfied with a comparatively small amount of chocolate, I can’t just have a little bit of cake, and I don’t want to waste my cake eating on something less than awesome anyway, so I’m holding out until a slice of something really luscious crosses my path, then I’m going to savour every bite - and not feel guilty about it! I just hope some well-meaning do-gooder doesn’t try to come between me and my moderately consumed guilt-free cake, or there will be tears. Almost certainly mine.