Hogzilla Returns

I've put on weight gentle reader; there's no denying it. Not lots, but it's all fat. Boo!

It's not really surprising. The holiday in Germany – bratwurst, beer and dumplings oh my – didn't help; plus I wasn't taking much exercise over there. Also, Fella is an in insanely good cook. I'm not bad, I will admit – but I may as well serve up a raw stoat with swastikas shaved into its fur. Finally, since I got better, my body no longer enjoys calories solely from the whooshing noise they make as they passed through une system digestif grand vitesse.

The thing about living with a great cook is a routine of rowing, running, swimming and resistance training is only enough to stand still. And the thing about yo-yoing in weight due to my illness is I lose rippling gorgeousness and gain lard. So... Hogzilla remains Hogzilla. I've almost come full circle; although I'm still about 15kg/33lbs less than I was when I came out. Now that's progress!

Well, what can be done to tone up? Diet and exercise of course! Well, not just that. There are wider issues at stake here. I've been feeling a bit like a shambling oaf this last few weeks and think I need a general tune up to shake off that frumpy feeling.

Once I've toned up a bit more I can look at other areas of my life. So first things first:

• Running twice a week after work with friends and colleagues. We're up to eight km (five miles) per run. Our little group has become the organisation's official running club so there's quite a few of us lumbering around the parks of Strumpetville now
  
• The gym three times a week – resistance training to add the soupcon of rippling gorgeousness
  
• Swimming and using the rowing machine to do a few km as well.
  

Plus; lifestyle.

• Booze – only on Tuesdays (I love Better Off Ted) and Fridays/Saturdays – and not more than 10 units a week regardless.
  
• Low calorie! Sorry Fella, gourmet you may be, but my wobbly bits are getting too wobbly.
  
• Not letting work pressures disrupt my routine.
  

That should do it, though I'm realistic enough to know there won't be speedy results. What I really want is to feel a bit better about myself. The heavens may well be slack jawed in wonder at my temerity, given how lucky I have been over the last couple of years, with my relationship, career and so on. Nevertheless, it isn't nice to feel frumpy and unattractive a lot of the time, especially after having made so much progress. And therefore things need to change. And making the change is half the battle, no?

Nessy

Fella has an illness. It really is that simple; although it explains an awful lot. Why we've been having a difficult time recently, for example. I think it does him enormous credit to have realised his illness was getting so severe that he needed some help, and tomorrow morning that (I hope) is exactly what he will get.

The illness is disarmingly simple. There is an imbalance of chemicals inside Fella and that affects his mood and how he thinks from time to time. In the past this has required medication to control it; and it seems one of those times has rolled around again.

Fella hasn't always been up-front with me about his past and elements of his personal life. Hmmm... re-reading that I mean to write he has chosen not to reveal all to me as yet. Yes, that's better isn't it?

I really don't mind; it is none of my business – so long as I know how to do what is right for him and what will make him happy. So – and forgive me for straying into selfishness mode here gentle reader – I am experiencing various emotions at this new paradigm.

I think I'm a little bit in shock, to be honest. I don't really understand. That is, the technical and logistical; even the biological mechanisms are apparent to me now. But I am somewhat lost in unchartered territory. This isn't the shiny side of Strumpetville, and no mistake.

The primary feeling is a huge amount of guilt. Fella is and was ill, slowly getting worse and I can't help but feel that I contributed to it. A lot. So much so that this Sunday I raised the possibility that he and I should end our relationship if that is what is best for him. He insists, to no small relief on my part, that it is not. But at 11 months and 11 days I am confronted with the notion that I really don't know him. In many ways situations will occur that cause me to tap the brakes on our relationship and that is itself a good thing. But there's new and there's New!

Fella is a creative type; an artist; a passionate soul that feels the world deeply and one of the reasons he has avoided medication for so long is that when smoothing out the lows it smoothes out the highs; the good times aren't so good and it's not a compromise he's considered worthwhile. Have I driven him to it then? It's like some fucking Greek tragedy; to be the people that fell in love is perhaps to destroy that love – but to become someone else devalues it to the point of meaninglessness.

So what is for the best? There's a huge risk of angsty over-analysis of course. Fella, to me, is the living embodiment of Why; I work hard and wish to achieve something with my life and he is the reason for that, given form. So, perhaps it is for the best to say: bollocks to angsty worry about things. Hard work has never frightened me and Lord knows I consciously understand it needs a lot in any relationship. So, let's get to work shall we? After all, we should not discount the possibility that the help might help.