Have I ever told you that I read a lot? Since early childhood, the magical world of books have been my escape at times of trouble, sadness, boredom, happiness, bus & taxi rides, airplane trips, ferry trips, etc.
I read everything, from fiction to biographies, from romance to porn. But usually, I go through periods of preffering one kind over the other.
In my early teens, I fell into the Barbara Cartlant and general Harlequin trap. Pink novels with testimonials of eternal love lingering in passionate love affairs.
I remember being 13 and reading them in bulk in the quieteness of the late afternoon in our summer house. We would be back from the beach around 3, would eat lunch, and would then be sort of "forced" for an afternoon nap, with the compensation of yet another swim around 5. Between those hours I would first pretend I was asleep, and as soon as I was surrounded by the quietness of my family's sleepiness, I would reach for my book.
I would read about the gorgeous heroine. She always felt insecure, the poor possum. Besides her long legs, her shiny hair, her oceanic eyes, her great taste in clothes, she would be hurt, and unsure for the love of Him.
Magically, and due to the publisher's extreme intelligence, all the Harlequin books I used to buy in these summer months, had holiday scenes.
The gorgeous yet bashful heroine would always be in some exotic place, where the sun would give a golden glow on her skin, the tropical fruits would make her even more slender, the lonely swim while thinking of Him (the bastard who always turned out to be another hurt creature of love thus not so bastard) would make her calves even more lickable.
I was then dreaming of me being older (now I actually dream of the magic capsule that takes me back in time) and finally going on holidays on my own, meeting Him (in a less bastardious version of course), feeling my womanhood mature, getting the golden glow on my skin, live on pineapples and love, and making my calves the object of desire.
So when I went on holidays with just my friends for the first time ever, for the first couple of days I lived in peaches and watermelon, yogurt with honey, and sighs for the one I would meet *sigh*. Then, I met Him and after he flirted with me for a whole morning in the beach, he said casually (and brutally too) "I am starving, are you up for some pitta gyros?"
This ended my days on fruit and yogurt in holidays. But there was always this hidden desire of returning from holidays and hear my mom say "Oh honey look at you you lost weight in the islands!" Where usually she would say (even when I was thin and firm) "Oh you must have had a blast, you gained a bit of weight huh? Ah the good holiday life".
The last two summers, I went on holidays right after a long period of dieting. And with the diet being a routine, I always returned from holidays either having maintained my pre-hols weight, or even loosing a kilo or two.
But this summer is not the same. I realised last night as I was grilling gorgeous burgers that I am in a very "fragile" state. First, I am eating to maintain, which means that I go overboard during the weekends, and eat very sensibly during the week. This was not a conscious decision. It was something that just happened and then I realised that this could be a strategy. What was a conscious decision though was not to stress myself. I know I been nagging all the time, and that I become somehow tiring and totally uninspiring, but I have been through lots this year and my batteries are running in very low capacity. I do not want to gain any weight at all. And this is my aim. I need to stay at this weight for the summer, and then recharge, regroup, and lose the rest during the fall and winter.
But I have to tell you that the impersonification of an Harlequin heroine is getting a little attractive again.
Our holidays will be a mixture this year. Angelos and I will leave on the 5th, and spend the first 5 days alone. Then on the 10th till the 17th we will have our friends (the ones we went to Amsterdam with) with us. Then we will stay in the island till the 23 - 25, then return to Athens and go to Sofia's village and stay till the 29th. There is a possibility that we won't do the last bit and stay in the island till the 28th. When it is just him and me, food is easy. We usually share a cantaloupe with yogurt, honey and pine nuts for breakfast (Angelos also has about 6 slices of homemade bread with butter and honey), then we eat lots of fruits all day in the beach, then we return to our room around 8, he takes a shower while I am either writting cards or reading while having a coffee, then I shower, and by 10 we go out ravenous to have dinner. And we usually eat good stuff, like seafood or fish grilled in real charcoal (unbeatable flavour), and about twice a week we dive into the most devine pasta with lobster you have ever had!
But with more people things always get out of control. Cos hey, there is ouzo, and wine. And the more the people the more the food.
I really need to work on a strategy. I really want to be the forever wished for Harlequin heroine this summer. Any suggestions?