Monday, September 28, 2009

The trials and tyranny of a teenager’s diet

The Teenager has for the last few years been on a self-imposed diet, of sorts. It changes form from time to time, but the desired end result remains the same. Basically she wishes to be rake thin, similar to the model images she sees in magazines and blogs. This is at odds with a girl who loves food and cooking. But she is 19 and vulnerable, and I pray that this will pass.

For several years now all forms of ‘carbs’ have been off-limits, pasta, rice, bread and potatoes. Fortunately she seems to think oats are ok. Recently she made the switch to soy rather than dairy. Nuts are now a no-no. Omelettes are made with egg whites only, and she is forever hungry. To combat this she eats vast amounts – breakfast may be a large bowl of oats with soy milk and apple, but a couple of hours later she is hungry again, and munching on another piece of fruit. Enormous salads (no oil) for lunch. All very healthy, but just so much.

The sad thing is that she is not over-weight, but rather a healthy ‘normal’ size 10, well-proportioned shape and size. And beautiful. How she sees herself is somewhat different, adjectives such as “obese, morbidly obese, huge, fat, and ugly” regularly spring from her lips. How others see her bothers her greatly as she believes everyone sees her as she imagines herself to be. As a parent it is both disturbing, and heart-breaking to hear.

Certainly all that she does eat is healthy, partly perhaps because as a family we’ve always been into fresh and seasonal food, and she exercises daily. Yet despite all her efforts, her body shape remains much the same. She is gorgeous, and often told so, but she still cannot get it. Being a ‘foodie’ doesn’t help; imagine her dismay in Italy when presented with great meal choices that she cannot allow herself to have.

I’ve tried offering help such as counselling, shiatsu (for anxiety, which she did try, and seemed to help), talking about it, and not talking about it. It seems to be something she has to work through herself. As her physical health is not in danger, I feel we need to ride it out, and just be there for her. Thankfully, these self-depreciating sessions do not last long, and 90% of the time I have a happy, confident, out-going and well-mannered teenager on my hands. It's just that other 10% that is a bit exhausting.

Friday, September 25, 2009

I am in love.......

with almost all things Italian.

I have returned home after nearly missing my flight due to having slipped into a totally relaxed holiday state and forgetting my actual departure date. By chance I happened to check my ticket only to discover that I was due to leave that afternoon! A mad dash to throw my belongings into my bag, a hasty farewell to my mother before my father, my daughter and I sped off to Rome. I'm never good at goodbyes at the best of times, so perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. The hardest part was saying goodbye to The Teenager at the airport as I won't be seeing her again until after Christmas. When she first proposed taking a gap year between school and university I was a tiny bit hesitant, but having seen just how much she has learnt from travelling, organising herself, budgeting and surviving, I am now 100 percent behind the concept. She has managed magnificently, seen all that she should, had fun and adventures, and met some great people along the way. It was fabulous to have three weeks with her, and to see just how well she is doing. Of course she still had her moments, which reminded me of the aspects of being home alone that I am currently enjoying!

Italy. Such a dreamy time to visit, sunny days and cooler evenings, I was in heaven. Morning cappuccinos and pre-dinner proseccos at the bar, idling away the time thinking about lunch and dinner, whilst surreptitiously keeping an eye on the gorgeous Italian men who just get the look right, seemingly without effort. Great jeans, crumpled linen shirts and loafers with no socks, why do so many men of the world get it so wrong?

Of course whilst it was wonderful to be with family and friends, I was conscious of my study duties, and did actually set aside time for things other than food, wine and gazing at men. The beautiful sketchbook given to me did get a few drawings in it, and the notebooks are filled with notes taken whilst looking at great works of art.

I spent a week in Venice looking at art both old and new, as well as revisiting some old favourites, of which Bellini is one. A week of expensive food, cheap wine and good coffee. A week of getting lost in all the lane ways (and making a mental note not to retire there, imagine living in Venice and having Alzheimer's!), discovering great hidden bars and cafes, meandering through the markets and wishing I had a kitchen, a week of mostly rain and still finding it incredibly beautiful, a week of seeing Turner in every view, and a week of wishing I had more money to shop!

Of the Biennale, there was the usual mix of the good, the bad and the downright ugly. Whilst there were some interesting artists at the Giardini, it was the Arsenale that I most loved. Despite some flooding at the end of the building (and what an incredible building it is!) everyone was very good-natured about it all and simply took off their shoes and waded through in bare feet. One of the most poetic works for me was by Ceal Floyer, whose work was the simple projection of a bonsai tree. Unmanicured, it was projected to the size that the actual tree would have become had it not been confined to its pot. The artist's statement talked of the literality being a conceptual tool to represent hidden or repressed truths, but I also saw it as an optimistic work, that spoke of potential and growth despite handicaps or outside pressure. Perhaps I was thinking of The Teenager.

Now it is back to the brushes, and more importantly, cracking on with my thesis, something I always seem to avoid by finding other things to do (such as this blog!). If only I was as good at writing as I am at procrastinating. The cat is beside himself with joy to have me home again, and all is well. I miss my daughter madly, but know that she is well and having a fantastic experience that will only enrich the wonderful young woman she is becoming. I have been home less than 48 hours, and have hit the ground running, but I will hang on as tightly as I can to the wonderful calm and memories that I have brought home with me. And think about what sort of risotto I will cook for dinner!