Where D'Ya Go, Rho? Ep14 Personal Growth

That’s the week passed by quick. Hello again, it’s me Rhona Roo, still on the hunt for her lost self after it went on a walkabout a few years ago and so far hasn’t seen hide nor hair of since.

The toasty spring weather and sunshine, sweet sunshine is creating a real impact here at casa Roo. The increased vitamin D from the big ball of fire in the sky has definitely improved my overall mood. I would say I had a spring in my step but that would be a lie. I had a spring in my step last week. I went to see my GP for a review of my HRT and got a general MOT while I was in. Given I was in good spirits and keen to shift the new spare tyre that menopause has bestowed upon me I had agreed to up my activity.

The tyre is a new thing for me. Look, I’ve not been slim ever since my teenage years but I been used to an hourglass shape no matter the fluctuation in my weight. I put on the pounds in my boobs, bum and the lower abdomen so proportionally end up a bigger version of the same shape. However perimenopause has descended with a few more pounds but didn’t get the memo on distribution. It just decides to plank the fat wherever the hell it wanted, chubbing up my upper abdomen with a paunch that turns me from an hourglass to the stacking rings that a toddler plays with. Bump, de bump, de bump from smaller to larger. My boobs have been extended to the point that I feel that’s all anyone sees. Well to be fair, when I look down that’s all I can see. I know yer down there feet but it’s been a while. Now when I stand naked I get a fright wondering how the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters got in my bathroom and had the audacity to put on my towelling robe. The Buddha look suited him but on me it’s really not becoming so I definitely need to get the tyre gone.

When you are a card carrying crip the ability to shift gut weight isn’t as simple as you’d think. The typical cardio is out as walks beyond 5 mins are marathons and often do more damage than good. Diet alone used to work but these days the metabolism has slowed to a snail’s pace. The GP thinks that if I can increase my metabolic rate somehow then it may help. When asked how I achieve this, it was increasing my exercise. However my doctor is meaning in not the same way an able bodied person would do by popping down the gym to give a treadmill a good gallop. I have to work within my limits.

So for me, I have to set an alarm every 15 minutes and when the beep sounds, I have to get up walk a corridor, walk on the spot for a minute or something similar to increase my step count. I have been too ashamed to ever use a pedometer because unlike others who have managed 10,000 steps a day I’d be pleased if I could read the heady heights of 1,000. The GP pointed out that comparison is the thief of success if I compare to others. I need to compete with myself and only try to better what i’d doing if I'm not moving. So every step is a win, my little Pavlovian dog. Just listen for the beep like on Supermarket Sweep. Beep!

So off I trotted back home determined to get a bit more physical. As the weather was good but my garden was not, I decided to tackle that given the garden has not seen any love since last year. The back garden was looking decidedly shabby and some of my pot plants had taken a battering from the winter months. Some pots were cracked, some had burst at the bottom so when picked up left me with just a terracotta tube in my hands as the soil spilled out onto the floor. Yup, this was a good place to start. Weeds were growing through the pavers and I needed to tackle it sooner rather than later before it looked like we were homing triffids. For heavy jobs I need my right hand man, Mark to do the lifting and shifting whereas I deal with the actual gardening part. On seeing me go out the back he knew something was afoot so wasn’t shocked to hear his name called. He winced as I asked him to help me clear the space to allow me to get started.

“Ah’m no a gardener and I don’t wanna be” was his cry. I said it was just to clear a space but I was politely told where to shove my idea in no uncertain terms. Ever determined, I thought to myself well in that case it will be me, myself and I that will batter on regardless and I picked up the first thing in front of me, it was a window sill planter. I cleared out the debris and found I had a wee orange lily I had planted still fighting the good fight. I made the planter good and picked it up in order to place it on the sill. There was a bit of mess in front of the window but I reached over to place the planter on the sill when… RRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPP!!!!!!!!

I felt my calf tear, front the point it meets the knee so not a great location to bust yer leg from. I winced in pain but still held onto the planter long enough to get it placed in front of the window. Job done- only job done- no more jobs today are likely to be done. I sat on the not yet cleaned garden sofa and picked up my phone and called Mark. Any card carrying OIer (person with Osteogenesis Imperfecta) knows never to part with their phone for fear emergency use is required. I’d only just changed his avatar to one of him grinning so to be honest, I found it all the more alarming that this non gardener was mocking me even from afar.

My partially deaf husband asked why I hadn't just shouted upon him? He is also deaf to the obvious as to why shouting is pointless when he is mutton jeff. He came out, called me daft for doing it on my own and I braced myself not only to get up the stairs but also to avoid the will to smash his face in for not being willing to assist me in the first place. So about an hour after agreeing to an activity regime that would puncture the new tyre round my middle, the only thing burst was my leg, my pride and my hope to burst the tyre in the foreseeable.

I think Mark may have felt a tad guilty for his refusal to help as I spent the weekend at our caravan with the girls and one of Ruby Drew’s mates but came home to find my back garden had been transformed. The slabs had been cleaned as had the furniture. My gazebo has a new covering allowing me to sit out in the shade and the plants had been placed as elegantly as a non gardener can. He even put the outdoor rug out so no fine detail was missed. Apparently I can do a pot at a time now from the comfort of the outdoor sofa and get the plants back to health while I heal too. He really is a good egg but for some reason we must always go through the sturm und drang first before he sees sense.

I hope, like my plants, to recover well and hopefully fast. I am trying to keep up my promise to the GP and I will endeavor to activate when the alarm sounds. I now fear I will go all out next time I’m in the supermarket when people are scanning their groceries as I immediately start moving.

I am typing this blog out in the back garden which is not perfect but perfectly acceptable given the circumstances but made all the better by the sun shining. It will get elevated but in good time but in the meantime I will appreciate what inroads have been made. I suppose I’m a bit like the back garden too. Not perfect by any means but a work in progress that will be dealt with in due course. I too am made better by the sun shining but I am thankful for the inroads I have made since winter. I feel on a road to recovery but I’m just enjoying the journey rather than just waiting for the final destination because I don’t know when I’ll get there but if today is better than yesterday then it’s a win that should be celebrated. YEAH!!!!

See you next time where I am hoping to beat my personal best.