The Quiet Things Illness Teaches You A tiny yellow flower growing bravely out of a crack in the pavement When I first heard the word cancer, my thought was terrifyingly simple: I am going to die. Shock and disbelief stripped away the illusion that life is predictable. It is strange how quickly the mind leaps to the worst possible conclusion. There was a time when I believed life was reasonably predictable. You make plans, you work hard, and the years stretch ahead in a comfor

The gym is a fascinating place. Everyone arrives with their own goals, their own methods — and sometimes their own creative interpretations of how exercise equipment should be used. Recently I was on the rowing machine doing my thing when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a man approaching the rowing machine beside me. Armed with a spray bottle and a mountain of paper towels, he scrubbed the frame until it sparkled. Then he sat down, strapped his feet in, and positioned

A small observation about beaches, birds… and people who pretend not to see the signs. One of the signs posted along the beach where African oystercatchers nest. Most weekends, provided the Cape southeaster wind isn’t howling or the rain isn’t falling, we take a walk along our favourite beach near home. It’s a beautiful stretch of sand that forms part of a Marine Protected Area where African oystercatchers nest at this time of year, laying their eggs directly on the sand. The

A few thoughts about change, acceptance, and learning to laugh along the way. The other day I was standing in line at the vegetable counter when something odd happened. The assistant weighing the vegetables looked straight past me and started helping the person behind me. For a brief moment, I wondered if I had somehow become invisible. As we grow older, something subtle begins to change. You notice it in small ways. People interrupt you more easily. Conversations move past y

A few thoughts about change, acceptance, and learning to laugh along the way. When I was much younger, I heard a lot about menopause. But hearing about it and experiencing it was quite a wake-up call. One moment life felt comfortably predictable, and the next moment my body seemed to have a mind of its own. No one really prepares you for the strange unpredictability of menopause… The first clue was the absurd amount of hair left behind in my brush. Then came the night sweats

A small moment of reinvention, laughter, and learning not taking life too seriously. One day, not too long ago, I caught myself standing in the shower wearing swimming goggles. Personal reinvention is often described as inspiring and transformative. In reality, sometimes it looks a bit ridiculous.   Having never worn false eyelashes before, I decided to indulge myself and booked an appointment with a beautician. The entire procedure lasted about three hours, but the end resul

This morning calamity struck. One of my earbuds was missing. I have the bad habit of dropping my earbuds loosely in my gym bag instead of securing them back in their pod. I called gym reception, but it was clear the poor assistant was multitasking and only half listening. So not much luck there, hoping that someone will hand it in at reception. What on earth would anyone do with one earbud?   And then it struck me — the fact that I care this much about a tiny earbud means som

(FOR THE 47TH TIME) I am one of those people who always likes to be in control.   I am always early for appointments (you never know what might happen on the way there). I decide the day before what I will wear the next day — after checking the weather, of course. I plan the structure of my day in my head and sometimes even on paper, especially when I’m about to start a new exercise routine or change my eating plan.   And more often than not, I get stuck in the planning phas

There’s usually a moment where you realise something needs to change. Not urgently. Just… honestly. For me, it wasn’t one big moment. It was slow. Years of trying diets, stopping, starting again, and somehow ending up right back where I began. I did what most of us do. I followed the rules, lost the weight, felt quite pleased with myself… and then, slowly but surely, gained it all back again. It’s a cycle many of us know far too well. At some point, something shifted. A quie

Yesterday I sat in my car outside the gym for a good five minutes, trying to negotiate my way out of going in. Just that quiet resistance — the kind where everything feels like too much effort. I briefly considered all my options: go home, make coffee, phone a friend, maybe even congratulate myself for thinking  about exercise. Unfortunately, I had already packed my gym bag. Water bottle filled. Earbuds charged. Past Me had left very little room for excuses. So, I went in. No

Coach or Critic? Rethinking Your Inner Voice After 60 I have always been hard on myself. Whether it was work, exercise or dieting — I pushed myself. Many years ago, after a traumatic period in my life, I decided to pour my energy into the gym. It felt productive. Controlled. Strong. I started going at 5am, Monday to Friday. If something came up and I couldn’t go, I felt disappointed and unsettled. Over weekends, social plans waited until after gym. Gym was ruling my life — an

Discipline or Punishment? I’m Still Learning the Difference. This morning I went to the gym for two hours of cardio and strength training. I’m not new to this. I’ve done it before. And usually, after a few months, things slowly begin to slide. But now at 61, my outlook has changed. This is no longer about being smaller. It’s about mobility. Strength. Independence. The older I get, the more those things matter. Before I left, I stood in front of my cupboard deciding what to we

For most of my adult life, I was a yo-yo dieter. Not dramatically. Not in a way that anyone would necessarily notice. I never became extremely overweight, which I used to count as proof that I had things “under control.” But the truth was more complicated than that. During the week, especially when I was single, I would eat very little. I told myself I was being disciplined. Focused. In control. By Friday evening, that control would start to fade. Weekends became a kind of re

( Or Why I Don’t Do Dramatic Anymore) There was a time when I believed change required a plan. A proper one. Printed. Colour-coded. Possibly laminated. If I was going to improve my health, it had to start on a Monday. It had to involve a complete kitchen overhaul, a strict routine, and the emotional stamina of an Olympic athlete. And naturally, I expected visible results by Thursday. What I didn’t realise then was that I wasn’t failing because I lacked discipline. I was faili

I didn’t start this blog because I have everything figured out. I started it because I don’t. This feels like the beginning of a reset — not the loud, “new year, new me” kind that lasts about three days, but the quieter kind. The kind that starts when you realise you can’t keep doing the same things and expect anything to change. This blog is about weight loss, yes — but not in the way it’s usually sold to us. It’s not about extremes, punishment, or pretending that willpower