Fatadelic

Dear god, it’s happened again. For the last two months, Lilly, my Turkish Van, has been peeing in inappropriate locations constantly. First it was my bed once a week more often than not when I was in it - but now it has become more frequent (every 2nd day) and other places the lounge, shoes and items left on the floor and John’s bed (which is a big problem since his room needs to be hygenic for dialysis). I am at my wits end. We’ve tried Feliway, washing the doonas, ‘aversion therapy’, extra cuddles. It is not due to lack of clean toileting facilities. When Lexi, one of my other cats, went through this about 5 years ago we used the ‘ignore it, give her love and it will go away’ technique and it worked. But with Lilly? I can’t figure her out or how to get her to stop. Any suggestions?

Edit:
This is the lovable face of the culprit. Looks sweet and innocent, doesn’t she?

Edit 2:
Sounds like a trip to the vet is in order, at least to rule out illness.

nataliedee.com

The sad thing? I am actually wearing a cat ear hairband right now. Please don’t ask; you don’t want to know.

I am not the most domestic of people, but I seem to have have had a Stepford weekend. First I baked and iced batches and batches of cupcakes for my niece’s birthday party, then I spend the rest of the weekend doing mad things like cleaning out all the cupboards in the kitchen and washing everything in them. Next thing you know I’ll be accosting random strangers and foisting homemade marmalade and tomato relish on them. Or, worse, actually enjoying doing the vacuuming. Save me, please!

Nevertheless, I am quite pleased with the somewhat rustic result with the cupcakes.

Continue reading ‘A Stepford Moment’

Behold, an abundance of perfect, luscious, tree-ripened, organic mangos, just picked off the trees in our backyard!

And this is only a small fraction of our bumper harvest. Yay! Although the fruit bats have been having a field day, too - they’ve probably eaten as many as we’ve been able to pick.

Continue reading ‘Yum! Yum! Yum!’

I’m not exactly used to feeling “good” (see Depression).

I normally self treat with aromatherapy, but my normal blend hasn’t been doing much for me recently (I’ve been going through a rough patch with the D), so I decided to play around and make myself a new spritz:

Continue reading ‘Wow!’

We’ve all heard of Mommy* Drive-bys**, right? You know, perfect strangers who feel compelled to comment on your parenting skills (or lack of them) or offer unsolicited parenting advice.

There has been an abundance of trollitude flying around the Fatosphere in the wake of the NYT and ABC articles (and no doubt we are seeing only a small fraction of the tromments thanks to well managed moderation at the affected sites). But the predictable sledging and fat-hate bingo got me thinking.

What about Fatty Drive-bys? Whether it comes from Aunty Fran who weighs 50kg soaking wet or from the concerned citizen peering disapprovingly into your trolley at the supermarket, we’ve all had them; unsolicited comments on your body, your diet, your health or your clothing.

So I want to know who has done it to you and how? And what are some great comebacks that you’ve delivered (or wish you had delivered in hindsight).
Continue reading ‘Fatty Drive-bys’

Scales are the work of the devil if you ask me. The best thing I ever did was throw the scales out and stop dieting.

The experiences I will post over the next few days are not in any chronological order or any particular structure; they meander and twist and turn back upon themselves. I did not and do not have a straight path to self-care and self-acceptance. I doubt if anybody does. But, if you will forgive me stretching this metaphor to its utmost limits, I have now made it a substantial way down that path, even if I do sometimes still get lost.

Part 2 and Part 3

The last time I owned a set of scales was also, not suprisingly, the period in which I fought my last concerted war on my body’s size. There were, however, also a few isolated battles here and there for a few years after as I struggled with self acceptance. This would have been around 13 or 14 years ago and I was at my worst point with body image.

Continue reading ‘Me and My Scales - Part 1: The (Not Quite) Last Diet’