In the absence of a formal regime to structure my every food related thought, I will now come up with some rules. These are partly designed to assist me in maintaining my weight with my current level of physical activity, and partly to make me feel better about the copious amounts of food I have recently consumed.
Rule Number 1: If I decide to have a treat during the day, e.g. some champagne truffles from a rather posh chocolate shop, I will forgo having dinner that evening.
Note; The truffles that I saved for later are not counted as dinner as technically they are an extension of the treat. Ergo, truffles for dinner is acceptable.
Rule Number 2: I am only allowed one treat per week.
Note; a treat is defined by the feeling it arouses once completed. Therefore if one slice of pizza doesn't feel like I've treated myself, another slice or two may be necessary.
Rule Number 3: If at any point someone mentions that an item of clothing looks tight, or that my bum looks bigger than it was, I must immediately stop all treats and commence with a self-enforced regimental fat, sugar and salt free diet, as before.
Note; My exercise regime should also be upped to 6 times a week, with the addition of a severe beating of the 'someone' who told me I looked fat.
I believe that with these rules in place, I can't fail to maintain my svelte size 12 figure for a couple of months, after which I will be beginning another 12 Week Challenge.
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
The Course - Part III
Today, the final day of The Course, saw the culmination of all things treacherous into a veritable melting pot of hostility and discomfort. While Kemp and I remained focused on our ultimate goal of Advanced Life Improvement, others struggled. It seems that their levels of stamina and endurance were pitiful in the face of IDCS and SICD. Perhaps this is why we were the chosen ones for this quest, and perhaps this is why we have succeeded in our journey, in the face of such barbaric conditions.
I will attempt to explain.
This great southern land is far from home, far from comfort and far from stability. Today we witnessed a phenomenon known as "rain" and it's damaging partner "wind". When their powers combined, they created a force largely unseen in my northern homeland, and greatly feared by all inhabitants: Bad Weather. But we soldiered on - the wind ravaged my hair, and the rain pillaged my mascara, but did I crack? Did I fall victim?? No no no reader, I fought on!
Regardless of my altered appearance, Kemp and I maintained our composure...that is, until we were faced with the final test: The 'meet-and-greet' with the 'CEO'. The most feared and gruesome of all powerful beings, and we had been chosen to face this foe. After a long day of fighting environmental elements and increasing exhaustion, we found, within the depths of our souls, the power to fight on. That's right, we met-and-gret our ultimate challenger, and we took him down. Armed with the light saber of Stella Artois and the scimitar of Chandon, we shook off his needless advances, and we saw through his bravado of pleasantness.
Reader, I shall not lie to you. This final test was not all guts and glory, oh no. Yes, we succeeded in our quest, and we triumphed in our battles, but we have been left with a feeling of emptiness. A feeling of such destructuralism that we no longer know what is right or wrong, or indeed, who is friend or foe. We will return north at sunset tomorrow, moving from the gloom towards the light, but what have we left behind? Will Bazza and Kemp ever be whole without the reassuring structure of IDCS and SICD? How does one live when one has achieved such enlightenment? How does one live such an Advanced and Improved Life?
I believe this may be the end of Life as I know it. The journey is over.
I will attempt to explain.
This great southern land is far from home, far from comfort and far from stability. Today we witnessed a phenomenon known as "rain" and it's damaging partner "wind". When their powers combined, they created a force largely unseen in my northern homeland, and greatly feared by all inhabitants: Bad Weather. But we soldiered on - the wind ravaged my hair, and the rain pillaged my mascara, but did I crack? Did I fall victim?? No no no reader, I fought on!
Regardless of my altered appearance, Kemp and I maintained our composure...that is, until we were faced with the final test: The 'meet-and-greet' with the 'CEO'. The most feared and gruesome of all powerful beings, and we had been chosen to face this foe. After a long day of fighting environmental elements and increasing exhaustion, we found, within the depths of our souls, the power to fight on. That's right, we met-and-gret our ultimate challenger, and we took him down. Armed with the light saber of Stella Artois and the scimitar of Chandon, we shook off his needless advances, and we saw through his bravado of pleasantness.
Reader, I shall not lie to you. This final test was not all guts and glory, oh no. Yes, we succeeded in our quest, and we triumphed in our battles, but we have been left with a feeling of emptiness. A feeling of such destructuralism that we no longer know what is right or wrong, or indeed, who is friend or foe. We will return north at sunset tomorrow, moving from the gloom towards the light, but what have we left behind? Will Bazza and Kemp ever be whole without the reassuring structure of IDCS and SICD? How does one live when one has achieved such enlightenment? How does one live such an Advanced and Improved Life?
I believe this may be the end of Life as I know it. The journey is over.
Monday, May 28, 2007
The Course - Part II
Our journey continues; through the murky waters of the Yarra we trudge, with our weapons raised high and our egos raised higher. We shall not be damaged by the treacherous environment we find ourselves swamped in, oh no! We will reign supreme over all we survey in this unfathomable land of self-improvement. We have reached the half way point; our will is impenetrable, and our minds are as one.
Once again I find myself admiring my self-improved surroundings. The discovery of the well hidden extra pillows adds to the homely quality of my temporary accommodation, of which I only have my skills of sleuth to thank. The quest I find myself on has enlightened me to my seemingly inherent skills in environmental change, and I have discovered that whilst on the Advanced Life Improvement Course today, my accommodation cleaned itself. I can only assume that the Course has now begun its work on me and my friend Kemp. I can only expect more exciting changes of telepathic and out-of-body proportions, as witnessed today.
The powers at work in this journey of discovery are incredible. Kemp and I have experienced the first stage of our enlightenment and have trodden the path to our Advanced Improvement. We have reached such a level of self-awareness that we now talk in code and refer to ourselves in the third person. I predicted such changes would occur, but had no idea as to the ramifications of these changes. Down to the core of our existence we have fallen, to rip apart the centre, the very fabric of our selves...
I can now disclose the identity that has hidden within me all these years. Lying dormant within the very shell of my existence, my new Self is more complex and hyperbolic than I ever knew possible. Hiding behind the pseudonym of Bazza, I now expose IDCS. Only a select few will ever know the true meaning behind this name. I ask you: What is a name? What significance is a name?? Oh poor, sheltered, unaware reader... how little you know of the world...
I have said too much - I must protect the location of IDCS - I must continue the quest for a truly Advanced Life - I MUST COMPLETE THE COURSE!
Once again I find myself admiring my self-improved surroundings. The discovery of the well hidden extra pillows adds to the homely quality of my temporary accommodation, of which I only have my skills of sleuth to thank. The quest I find myself on has enlightened me to my seemingly inherent skills in environmental change, and I have discovered that whilst on the Advanced Life Improvement Course today, my accommodation cleaned itself. I can only assume that the Course has now begun its work on me and my friend Kemp. I can only expect more exciting changes of telepathic and out-of-body proportions, as witnessed today.
The powers at work in this journey of discovery are incredible. Kemp and I have experienced the first stage of our enlightenment and have trodden the path to our Advanced Improvement. We have reached such a level of self-awareness that we now talk in code and refer to ourselves in the third person. I predicted such changes would occur, but had no idea as to the ramifications of these changes. Down to the core of our existence we have fallen, to rip apart the centre, the very fabric of our selves...
I can now disclose the identity that has hidden within me all these years. Lying dormant within the very shell of my existence, my new Self is more complex and hyperbolic than I ever knew possible. Hiding behind the pseudonym of Bazza, I now expose IDCS. Only a select few will ever know the true meaning behind this name. I ask you: What is a name? What significance is a name?? Oh poor, sheltered, unaware reader... how little you know of the world...
I have said too much - I must protect the location of IDCS - I must continue the quest for a truly Advanced Life - I MUST COMPLETE THE COURSE!
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The Course - Part I
Much like Roland of Gilead, the hero of The Dark Tower series of which I am currently enjoying Volume 5, I am far from home on a journey of discovery, incredible danger and amazing intrigue... My fellow traveller Kemp, somewhat like Roland's right hand man, Eddie Dean, is currently recovering from the first part of our journey. If it weren't for the inherent nature of this quest, I'd say he was being boring. But of course, as the quest leader, I must understand that my comrades need their rest, and as a seasoned traveller I may have slightly unfairly high expectations of young Kemp.
As I sit in my temporary accommodation, I reflect on the comforts of home and how masterfully I have adapted my present surroundings to match said comforts. It didn't take long to discover how the heating worked, or where they kept the hypoallergenic pillows, so now I can assume my position of power and preparation for the days ahead.
The next 3 days will be spent on an Advanced Life Improvement Course. This pseudonym has been created by me in order to protect Kemp and myself from certain positional discovery and therefore thwart any attempts at preventing us from completing our most important journey. Be assured that our lives are in danger, and I can not disclose the true purpose of our journey for fear of endangering ourselves, and indeed, you, my avid readers.
I will attempt to update you on the vast improvements that I will no doubt see within myself, and Kemp, over the coming days. Of course, I must warn you reader, depending on the toxicity and potency of this Course, I may emerge a wholly new person - someone capable of only talking in the language of the Improved, someone so Advanced that they are no longer permitted to coerce with beings such as yourselves, someone who will lead such an amazing Life full of Advanced Improvements that all sense of normality is overtaken and replaced by an overwhelming sense of enlightenment. In fact, I may just disappear into a haze of Omniscience.
As I sit in my temporary accommodation, I reflect on the comforts of home and how masterfully I have adapted my present surroundings to match said comforts. It didn't take long to discover how the heating worked, or where they kept the hypoallergenic pillows, so now I can assume my position of power and preparation for the days ahead.
The next 3 days will be spent on an Advanced Life Improvement Course. This pseudonym has been created by me in order to protect Kemp and myself from certain positional discovery and therefore thwart any attempts at preventing us from completing our most important journey. Be assured that our lives are in danger, and I can not disclose the true purpose of our journey for fear of endangering ourselves, and indeed, you, my avid readers.
I will attempt to update you on the vast improvements that I will no doubt see within myself, and Kemp, over the coming days. Of course, I must warn you reader, depending on the toxicity and potency of this Course, I may emerge a wholly new person - someone capable of only talking in the language of the Improved, someone so Advanced that they are no longer permitted to coerce with beings such as yourselves, someone who will lead such an amazing Life full of Advanced Improvements that all sense of normality is overtaken and replaced by an overwhelming sense of enlightenment. In fact, I may just disappear into a haze of Omniscience.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Decided.
I have decided on the name of my lovely kitten:
Isn't it lovely?!! He's going to be super special and super sweet and all things fantabulous. I go and pick him out on the 16th June, and then I can take him home 6 weeks after that. So the countdown begins!
I will start buying accessories too, including a harness and lead for his little jaunts outside, and a collar, and a bowl, and a kitty litter tray and OHMYGODIAMSODAMNEDEXCITED!!!!!
Colin Faggot Barrett
Isn't it lovely?!! He's going to be super special and super sweet and all things fantabulous. I go and pick him out on the 16th June, and then I can take him home 6 weeks after that. So the countdown begins!
I will start buying accessories too, including a harness and lead for his little jaunts outside, and a collar, and a bowl, and a kitty litter tray and OHMYGODIAMSODAMNEDEXCITED!!!!!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Faggot
My landlord has said I can get a cat! Yay! So the purchase of the aforementioned kitten is now imminent. One question remains - the name.
My original choice of the name Faggot has since been vetoed by my mum. She says it'd be fine for a dog, but not a cat - not a 'special looking' cat. So, I need your help.
Please give me some suggestions for a name for my little kitty. It'll be a boy, and his colouring will be beige and chocolate brown (I think). And he'll be very clever and very special and very wonderful.
Comment as before, to those of you who are capable of such a technologically trying task, or email me your suggestions, to those of you who are technologically retarded.
My original choice of the name Faggot has since been vetoed by my mum. She says it'd be fine for a dog, but not a cat - not a 'special looking' cat. So, I need your help.
Please give me some suggestions for a name for my little kitty. It'll be a boy, and his colouring will be beige and chocolate brown (I think). And he'll be very clever and very special and very wonderful.
Comment as before, to those of you who are capable of such a technologically trying task, or email me your suggestions, to those of you who are technologically retarded.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Ignoramus
Many many encounters of above in the past 24 hours, listed below.
- Ignoramus: Person who can't see the difference between a cat and a dog.
- Ignoramus: Client who refuses product and admits to having no reason.
- Ignoramus: Man who thinks it's funny to take the piss out of a girl who has recently admitted to having PMT.
- Ignoramus: Man who gets drunk, wanders onto my property in the middle of the night and tries to get into my house.
- Ignoramus: Man who comes back to my house and attempts to get in the front door after I have threatened him with a large knife.
- Ignoramus: Girl who thinks that an 8 inch kitchen blade will scare a 6 foot drunken man.
- Ignoramus: Girl who thinks that working from home will be more productive than working in the office.
Gee, what a great 24 hours it's been.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Cat
Having shown Chappers and Roy the following link to my intended breed of cat, I have realised that I should possibly gather opinion of my choice.
The breed is supposed to be better for allergy sufferers, and should be an indoor cat as they can't cope with the outdoors. If you do take them outdoors, you have to put sunscreen on them, and have them on a lead. The breeder currently has 4 baby boys who would be ready for collection in 10 weeks. They are chocolate pointed in colour.
Personally, I think they're so ugly that they're actually cute, but other people have different opinions. Please help me with this very important decision by commenting; indicate Yes or No.
http://www.cat-world.com.au/DevonRexBreedProfile.htm
P.S. My first choice of name is Faggot. If you have any other suggestions, please let me know.
The breed is supposed to be better for allergy sufferers, and should be an indoor cat as they can't cope with the outdoors. If you do take them outdoors, you have to put sunscreen on them, and have them on a lead. The breeder currently has 4 baby boys who would be ready for collection in 10 weeks. They are chocolate pointed in colour.
Personally, I think they're so ugly that they're actually cute, but other people have different opinions. Please help me with this very important decision by commenting; indicate Yes or No.
http://www.cat-world.com.au/DevonRexBreedProfile.htm
P.S. My first choice of name is Faggot. If you have any other suggestions, please let me know.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
On the Wagon
I'm back on the wagon. Actually, I believe I was forced back on. I managed a whole week of fucking about with my diet and only went to the gym 3 times in a week, which was wholly shocking and vaguely enjoyable. But, something went wrong up there; in the space that I call my brain, things were amiss. Things weren't quite right, and the not-rightness finally culminated in a massive explosion of hormones and pent up aggression this weekend.
I thought last week that I was suffering from PMT, which was a little odd as I wasn't going through 'that time of the month' - still, as a woman you learn to expect the occasional anomaly when it comes to the monthly cycle. However, on Saturday I realised that it wasn't PMT. It was something far worse...
My body was crying out for consistency. The chocolate cake and the pasta bake that I ate on Friday was the final straw for my poor, battered and abused little brain, and on Saturday it cracked.
I was walking along in my local shopping centre with my mum; we were on our way to get a coffee and some lunch. All was fine, until I realised that I'd somehow lost my hair-tie from around my wrist, my hair was out, and I had no way of tying it back up again. Tragedy. I couldn't cope with it - I exclaimed, in the middle of a very busy shopping centre: "How the fuck am I supposed to get through the day with my hair out? I can't do it mum - I just can't!!"
Over the top? Yes. Uncalled for? Uh-huh. A little bit worrying? Very. But what followed this outburst was even more scary.
I decided that I needed to find a hair-tie. I stormed up the mall in search of a shop that sold hair-ties. On my way towards said shop, I scowled at an old woman who got in my way, told a teenager to 'fuck off out of my way', and almost punched a baby out of his mother's arms. This last act of aggression worries me the most. The baby wasn't crying, it wasn't doing anything. And I had an almost uncontrollable urge to punch it. Luckily, I found the shop I was looking for and walked in.
Unfortunately though, this shop didn't sell single hair-ties. In fact, it only sold boxes of 500. Who on earth has enough hair to warrant buying 500 hair-ties? So, in my rage, I opened the box, ripping open it's security seal, and I stole one single hair-tie. The shop assistant saw me do this, I scowled at her with what I can only guess was the look of death, and walked out.
So, I am now back on the wagon out of necessity, and to ensure the safety of my community - mainly babies and shop assistants. I am now back on my diet of carrot sticks and all things healthy, and here I will stay until my body can learn to cope with treats and such like. The gym routine has also been forced back into existence, and I am now going every day except Fridays. So fear not, avid reader, I am now normal again...
I thought last week that I was suffering from PMT, which was a little odd as I wasn't going through 'that time of the month' - still, as a woman you learn to expect the occasional anomaly when it comes to the monthly cycle. However, on Saturday I realised that it wasn't PMT. It was something far worse...
My body was crying out for consistency. The chocolate cake and the pasta bake that I ate on Friday was the final straw for my poor, battered and abused little brain, and on Saturday it cracked.
I was walking along in my local shopping centre with my mum; we were on our way to get a coffee and some lunch. All was fine, until I realised that I'd somehow lost my hair-tie from around my wrist, my hair was out, and I had no way of tying it back up again. Tragedy. I couldn't cope with it - I exclaimed, in the middle of a very busy shopping centre: "How the fuck am I supposed to get through the day with my hair out? I can't do it mum - I just can't!!"
Over the top? Yes. Uncalled for? Uh-huh. A little bit worrying? Very. But what followed this outburst was even more scary.
I decided that I needed to find a hair-tie. I stormed up the mall in search of a shop that sold hair-ties. On my way towards said shop, I scowled at an old woman who got in my way, told a teenager to 'fuck off out of my way', and almost punched a baby out of his mother's arms. This last act of aggression worries me the most. The baby wasn't crying, it wasn't doing anything. And I had an almost uncontrollable urge to punch it. Luckily, I found the shop I was looking for and walked in.
Unfortunately though, this shop didn't sell single hair-ties. In fact, it only sold boxes of 500. Who on earth has enough hair to warrant buying 500 hair-ties? So, in my rage, I opened the box, ripping open it's security seal, and I stole one single hair-tie. The shop assistant saw me do this, I scowled at her with what I can only guess was the look of death, and walked out.
So, I am now back on the wagon out of necessity, and to ensure the safety of my community - mainly babies and shop assistants. I am now back on my diet of carrot sticks and all things healthy, and here I will stay until my body can learn to cope with treats and such like. The gym routine has also been forced back into existence, and I am now going every day except Fridays. So fear not, avid reader, I am now normal again...
Friday, May 18, 2007
Routine
I miss my routine. I've had one week away from the structure of the Challenge and I've already turned into a gibbering mess. Take this morning for example: I woke up 15 minutes early. I had a very long shower, whereas I usually have a long one in the evening and a short one in the mornings. I had a banana and prune smoothie for my breakfast, instead of my usual bowl of muesli. I drove in a different lane on the way to work, which meant I then spent the last 5 minutes of my journey darting in and out of traffic in order to get into the car park. I walked on the opposite side of the road to Starbucks, so almost got hit by a 4WD when trying to cross the road.
You see how things can be disrupted and almost end in a cataclysmic event, potentially changing life as we know it?
I blame my father. He sent me one of his usually nasty text messages this morning and it has put me in a bad mood. Also, annoying colleague came in this morning complaining about how his desk has been moved, and he kept coming over to me saying 'oh they've stolen my in-trays' and 'they've nicked my chair' and 'they've taken my folders' and I cracked. I yelled "They have not stolen anything, it's all there on the desk so if you own it, then fucking take it. Stop complaining about things that don't warrant a complaint!!"
And now he keeps whispering and stuff. I think I scared him. Good. He's an ignorant old man who needs to grow a fucking brain and stop bothering me with his endless nonsense and pointless conversations.
And now I shall drink my coffee and calm the fuck down before my Chappers and Roy come in and realise that I've truly lost my mind.
You see how things can be disrupted and almost end in a cataclysmic event, potentially changing life as we know it?
I blame my father. He sent me one of his usually nasty text messages this morning and it has put me in a bad mood. Also, annoying colleague came in this morning complaining about how his desk has been moved, and he kept coming over to me saying 'oh they've stolen my in-trays' and 'they've nicked my chair' and 'they've taken my folders' and I cracked. I yelled "They have not stolen anything, it's all there on the desk so if you own it, then fucking take it. Stop complaining about things that don't warrant a complaint!!"
And now he keeps whispering and stuff. I think I scared him. Good. He's an ignorant old man who needs to grow a fucking brain and stop bothering me with his endless nonsense and pointless conversations.
And now I shall drink my coffee and calm the fuck down before my Chappers and Roy come in and realise that I've truly lost my mind.
Monday, May 14, 2007
How much is too much?
I've eaten the following items in the last 24 hours:
Is it possible that the above is too much for a 24 hour period? Does a normal person have trouble with such an amount of food? Should I stop now, or carry on? How can I stop when I've re-tasted the good stuff? How long do I need to spend on the treadmill to work this off? How many calories is in the above list? Am I doomed to a lifetime of asking the same questions about everything that I eat? Have I become an Obsessive Compulsive Eater? DO I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER?
**Hot Flush****Panic****Twitch**
10 minutes later...
I have PMT. I can now say that the above sentiments should be largely attributed to this condition - this natural state - of the female banshee.
Still, if anybody can enlighten me regarding the questions I've listed, I'd very much appreciate your assistance and will pay you back in kind.
- A large wedge of Camembert
- 8 sundried tomatoes (97.5% fat free)
- 8 kalamata olives
- Brown bread roll with Butter
- 1/2 cup of Muesli
- Banana
- Chocolate Biscuit x 1
- Leftover chicken curry
- Hot Chocolate
Is it possible that the above is too much for a 24 hour period? Does a normal person have trouble with such an amount of food? Should I stop now, or carry on? How can I stop when I've re-tasted the good stuff? How long do I need to spend on the treadmill to work this off? How many calories is in the above list? Am I doomed to a lifetime of asking the same questions about everything that I eat? Have I become an Obsessive Compulsive Eater? DO I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER?
**Hot Flush****Panic****Twitch**
10 minutes later...
I have PMT. I can now say that the above sentiments should be largely attributed to this condition - this natural state - of the female banshee.
Still, if anybody can enlighten me regarding the questions I've listed, I'd very much appreciate your assistance and will pay you back in kind.
Final Challenge Results!
That's right people, it's all over!! I have completed the Twelve Week Challenge, and my final results were:
The most exciting bit for me is that I'm now a Size 12! For the first time since I was 13, I can finally go into normal people shops and buy normal people clothes. Understandably, my ego has shot through the roof and I'm prancing about like I'm a model or something - but i don't care! I'm allowed - I've earned it.
So, I apologise in advance to all of you who have the (mis)fortune to see me in person. I apologise for inadvertently twirling in front of you, for slapping my own arse, and for flicking my hair around like a big girl. Poor Roy has already witnessed this shockingly self-absorbed behaviour, but kindly hasn't berated me as yet. I'll give it til the end of the day; I'm sure he'll have cracked by then.
Now my mum was very proud of my results, and when she saw me exclaimed "Quick, go and visit all the relatives NOW so they can see how skinny you are!!" - I explained to her that I'm not going to eat a burger and suddenly put my 12kg back on again, and that I do have a plan in place to make sure the weight stays off. The plan is this:
How exciting!! I promise not to endlessly go on about it though. It's a long term plan, and it may take a year to complete. Therefore I will only give a monthly update on my blog. I promise.
12kg weight loss
58.5cms off my measurements
6.4% body fat loss
The most exciting bit for me is that I'm now a Size 12! For the first time since I was 13, I can finally go into normal people shops and buy normal people clothes. Understandably, my ego has shot through the roof and I'm prancing about like I'm a model or something - but i don't care! I'm allowed - I've earned it.
So, I apologise in advance to all of you who have the (mis)fortune to see me in person. I apologise for inadvertently twirling in front of you, for slapping my own arse, and for flicking my hair around like a big girl. Poor Roy has already witnessed this shockingly self-absorbed behaviour, but kindly hasn't berated me as yet. I'll give it til the end of the day; I'm sure he'll have cracked by then.
Now my mum was very proud of my results, and when she saw me exclaimed "Quick, go and visit all the relatives NOW so they can see how skinny you are!!" - I explained to her that I'm not going to eat a burger and suddenly put my 12kg back on again, and that I do have a plan in place to make sure the weight stays off. The plan is this:
Start training towards competing in a Triathlon.
How exciting!! I promise not to endlessly go on about it though. It's a long term plan, and it may take a year to complete. Therefore I will only give a monthly update on my blog. I promise.
Friday, May 11, 2007
I'm Out.
That's it. I'm out. I can't go on anymore, I can't do it any longer. My body is saying NO.
I was on the cross trainer this morning with my trainer barking "Go Faster!!" down my ear and I physically wasn't able to go any faster and I CRIED. That's right, tears of pain and sheer exhaustion. I'm fucked off because I've now only got one more day of this Challenge, and I'm not allowed to drink more than one litre of water a day, and I'm not allowed to eat any carbs and basically can only eat vegetable products and lean protein (and I'm not even allowed protein today just in case my body builds any more muscle and therefore weighs me down).
So the story is that I'm existing on ... FUCKING NOTHING. I can't eat a fucking thing and I'm truly and utterly fucked off with this fucking fuck fuck fucking challenge!!!!!
**Breathe**
But it's ok... yes, it is ok. Tomorrow, after being weighed and photographed and measured and blah, I am going to have a lovely breakfast followed by a bit of shopping followed by a bottle of champagne and a massive chicken curry with rice - WHITE rice. tee heee la la la ha ha la la!!!
I think I've lost my mind. Maybe it's the fake tan seeping into my brain... That's right, I had to get a spray tan last night, as instructed by the Challenge organisers. Apparently it makes you look more toned and my photo's will therefore look better and I will stand more of a chance of winning. I don't even want to win anymore. I've got to where I want to be, I'm over it. I just need to get back into normal eating and being a normal person. Without putting on any weight obviously. Christ. How boring have I become? Am I really so pre-occupied with my weight and appearance that I can't think of a single thing to say about the almost traumatising experience of standing naked in front of a complete stranger while she sprayed me with a coffee-like substance which was hooked up to a hose attached to a mains-powered generator?
What have I become??
I was on the cross trainer this morning with my trainer barking "Go Faster!!" down my ear and I physically wasn't able to go any faster and I CRIED. That's right, tears of pain and sheer exhaustion. I'm fucked off because I've now only got one more day of this Challenge, and I'm not allowed to drink more than one litre of water a day, and I'm not allowed to eat any carbs and basically can only eat vegetable products and lean protein (and I'm not even allowed protein today just in case my body builds any more muscle and therefore weighs me down).
So the story is that I'm existing on ... FUCKING NOTHING. I can't eat a fucking thing and I'm truly and utterly fucked off with this fucking fuck fuck fucking challenge!!!!!
**Breathe**
But it's ok... yes, it is ok. Tomorrow, after being weighed and photographed and measured and blah, I am going to have a lovely breakfast followed by a bit of shopping followed by a bottle of champagne and a massive chicken curry with rice - WHITE rice. tee heee la la la ha ha la la!!!
I think I've lost my mind. Maybe it's the fake tan seeping into my brain... That's right, I had to get a spray tan last night, as instructed by the Challenge organisers. Apparently it makes you look more toned and my photo's will therefore look better and I will stand more of a chance of winning. I don't even want to win anymore. I've got to where I want to be, I'm over it. I just need to get back into normal eating and being a normal person. Without putting on any weight obviously. Christ. How boring have I become? Am I really so pre-occupied with my weight and appearance that I can't think of a single thing to say about the almost traumatising experience of standing naked in front of a complete stranger while she sprayed me with a coffee-like substance which was hooked up to a hose attached to a mains-powered generator?
What have I become??
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Sartorius
I have strained my Sartorius muscle.
"The sartorius (sar-TOR-ee-us) is the longest muscle in the body. Extreme efforts in athletics can overcontract, overextend, or overwork the muscle. Treatment is painful, and often difficult to perform."
The text book I have quoted from [The Trigger Point Therapy Workbook] goes on to explain how one should treat a strained sartorius. It says that a deep, sharp, circular movement is required along the full extension of the muscle, to be applied for 5 minutes, at least 5 times a day until the strain subsides. The problem is that my trainer did this 'massage' this morning, and my leg is already bruised to fuck and even the slightest touch causes great pain and discomfort.
I now refer back to my post, on Thursday May 3rd, entitled "For Fuck's Sake...". Once again it seems that leading a healthy lifestyle causes pain, and going to the gym makes your muscles unable to do their daily task of walking, moving etc. Ergo, exercising makes you unfit.
In today's environment of anti-obesity and endless initiatives centred around getting our nation fitter, I think that my discovery should be made public. So, next time someone on the TV tells you to do '30 minutes a day' of exercise, or to eat '7 servings of fruit and veg' each day, please refer to this post, and previous relevant posts, for details of the empirical research that I have undertaken in the last 12 weeks. That is, bear in mind that such physical activity and healthy eating WILL make you feel like shit for the majority of the time.
Trust me people; the pain and suffering I have gone through has given me nothing except a disturbing ability to last a day on 1/4 cup of muesli, a small tin of tuna and a carrot.
"The sartorius (sar-TOR-ee-us) is the longest muscle in the body. Extreme efforts in athletics can overcontract, overextend, or overwork the muscle. Treatment is painful, and often difficult to perform."
The text book I have quoted from [The Trigger Point Therapy Workbook] goes on to explain how one should treat a strained sartorius. It says that a deep, sharp, circular movement is required along the full extension of the muscle, to be applied for 5 minutes, at least 5 times a day until the strain subsides. The problem is that my trainer did this 'massage' this morning, and my leg is already bruised to fuck and even the slightest touch causes great pain and discomfort.
I now refer back to my post, on Thursday May 3rd, entitled "For Fuck's Sake...". Once again it seems that leading a healthy lifestyle causes pain, and going to the gym makes your muscles unable to do their daily task of walking, moving etc. Ergo, exercising makes you unfit.
In today's environment of anti-obesity and endless initiatives centred around getting our nation fitter, I think that my discovery should be made public. So, next time someone on the TV tells you to do '30 minutes a day' of exercise, or to eat '7 servings of fruit and veg' each day, please refer to this post, and previous relevant posts, for details of the empirical research that I have undertaken in the last 12 weeks. That is, bear in mind that such physical activity and healthy eating WILL make you feel like shit for the majority of the time.
Trust me people; the pain and suffering I have gone through has given me nothing except a disturbing ability to last a day on 1/4 cup of muesli, a small tin of tuna and a carrot.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Big Things
Some big things are good. Like, very good. Some big things are bad - incredibly BAD.
Par example:
Big + Penis = Good
Big + Car = Bad
You see where I'm going with this?
I FUCKING HATE Landrovers and any other kind of over sized 4WD vehicle in the city. Jayden, being a small 'economy sized' car gets totally lost behind them, and could very nearly be run over by one. But it's not just Jayden who has trouble with them - it's the majority of normal sized cars.
When we're stuck in traffic, and a 4WD sneaks in front of us, we can't see shit. We can't see if the traffic ahead is moving, or if it's there at all. We are totally at the mercy of the 4WD's indicators, if they get used, and their general behaviour on the road. AT THEIR MERCY I tell you...
When we're parked - anywhere, and in any position - if a 4WD is parked near us, our view is blocked. We can't see if there's another car coming, we can't see ANYTHING. This not only puts us in danger, but other drivers as well.
In conclusion, I put forward the motion that all 4WD vehicles should be restricted from approaching 'economy sized' vehicles. A little like a restraining order, they should not be allowed to be within 20 metres of a normal sized car. It's a classic case of them just not fitting. Just like a big penis sometimes doesn't fit - a 4WD more often than not, doesn't fit.
Open and shut case.
Par example:
Big + Penis = Good
Big + Car = Bad
You see where I'm going with this?
I FUCKING HATE Landrovers and any other kind of over sized 4WD vehicle in the city. Jayden, being a small 'economy sized' car gets totally lost behind them, and could very nearly be run over by one. But it's not just Jayden who has trouble with them - it's the majority of normal sized cars.
When we're stuck in traffic, and a 4WD sneaks in front of us, we can't see shit. We can't see if the traffic ahead is moving, or if it's there at all. We are totally at the mercy of the 4WD's indicators, if they get used, and their general behaviour on the road. AT THEIR MERCY I tell you...
When we're parked - anywhere, and in any position - if a 4WD is parked near us, our view is blocked. We can't see if there's another car coming, we can't see ANYTHING. This not only puts us in danger, but other drivers as well.
In conclusion, I put forward the motion that all 4WD vehicles should be restricted from approaching 'economy sized' vehicles. A little like a restraining order, they should not be allowed to be within 20 metres of a normal sized car. It's a classic case of them just not fitting. Just like a big penis sometimes doesn't fit - a 4WD more often than not, doesn't fit.
Open and shut case.
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Boo...
As you're all probably aware, I'm not the best at being taken out of my routine, or having my personal space invaded. This usually shows when I have guests staying at my house - after a few days I'll start to get irritable, and will make up excuses to get some 'me-time', such as "I forgot to pay my gym fees so I need to go to the gym now." (I'm shit at making up excuses.) But, I believe that I have now changed.
The lovely Miln has been staying with me for 2 weeks now, and to my utter amazement, I don't want her to go home. In fact, I'm sad, and I'm not looking forward to having the house to myself again.
I feel like I've lost my hermit-abilities. I can no longer potter about my house for hours on end, being satisfied by the possibility of cleaning something, or fixing something. What on earth will I do with my life, as I now find it? Will I ever be happy being alone???
I think I might kidnap Miln and keep her locked in my house for the rest of time. Don't tell anyone...
The lovely Miln has been staying with me for 2 weeks now, and to my utter amazement, I don't want her to go home. In fact, I'm sad, and I'm not looking forward to having the house to myself again.
I feel like I've lost my hermit-abilities. I can no longer potter about my house for hours on end, being satisfied by the possibility of cleaning something, or fixing something. What on earth will I do with my life, as I now find it? Will I ever be happy being alone???
I think I might kidnap Miln and keep her locked in my house for the rest of time. Don't tell anyone...
Thursday, May 3, 2007
For Fuck's Sake...
I have a few things to complain about this evening. I'll start at the top and work my way down:
When a person is instructed to perform a task, what makes them decide to not do it? When another person is required to delegate a task, what makes them decide to not do so? For example, I am currently waiting for an international money transfer. This money will be going towards paying off a credit card, but also towards paying back a friend that I owe money to. Therefore, it's very important for this money to be transferred asap. I was told that the transfer went through last week, and today I was told that the person organising the transfer hasn't done it yet and it's going to take another 5 working days. Why? WHY??
Secondly, I would like to complain about something which is very close to my heart, yet grates on my very existence. It is currently a full moon, which in my monthly female calendar indicates that I am ovulating. Usually this means that I become abnormally virile, as well as slightly broody and I often develop an insatiable craving for chocolate. However, this month my body appears to have changed its mind; ovulation has been skipped, and PMT has surfaced a whole week early. So, the tears for no reason and the urge to scream and rant at everybody is here. I ask you, why has this happened? WHY??
And lastly, I would like to complain about leading a healthy life. Surely it would make sense for a person to be rewarded for regularly exercising and eating a healthy diet? No no no - this is apparently where we're all wrong. Instead, we get muscle pains, cramps, spasms and hot flushes. We also get uncontrollable cravings to the point where our bodies literally lunge forward at the sight of chocolate, beer, curry, or anything that doesn't taste like a carrot stick. Is this not a trifle unfair? Does this not seem like a bit of a stretch of the law of sod? Fuck sod and his fucking law. I want a fucking curry and I want one NOW.
And now I want some trifle. Damn it.
When a person is instructed to perform a task, what makes them decide to not do it? When another person is required to delegate a task, what makes them decide to not do so? For example, I am currently waiting for an international money transfer. This money will be going towards paying off a credit card, but also towards paying back a friend that I owe money to. Therefore, it's very important for this money to be transferred asap. I was told that the transfer went through last week, and today I was told that the person organising the transfer hasn't done it yet and it's going to take another 5 working days. Why? WHY??
Secondly, I would like to complain about something which is very close to my heart, yet grates on my very existence. It is currently a full moon, which in my monthly female calendar indicates that I am ovulating. Usually this means that I become abnormally virile, as well as slightly broody and I often develop an insatiable craving for chocolate. However, this month my body appears to have changed its mind; ovulation has been skipped, and PMT has surfaced a whole week early. So, the tears for no reason and the urge to scream and rant at everybody is here. I ask you, why has this happened? WHY??
And lastly, I would like to complain about leading a healthy life. Surely it would make sense for a person to be rewarded for regularly exercising and eating a healthy diet? No no no - this is apparently where we're all wrong. Instead, we get muscle pains, cramps, spasms and hot flushes. We also get uncontrollable cravings to the point where our bodies literally lunge forward at the sight of chocolate, beer, curry, or anything that doesn't taste like a carrot stick. Is this not a trifle unfair? Does this not seem like a bit of a stretch of the law of sod? Fuck sod and his fucking law. I want a fucking curry and I want one NOW.
And now I want some trifle. Damn it.
Elite Athleticism
As some of you are already aware, I am now about to enter my final week of the Twelve Week Challenge. After falling off the wagon last week, with the much needed help of Miln, I am back on board and ready to kick some of my own arse.
This week I'm hitting the gym hard, and I'm on the strictest diet of all time. Absolutely no oil or fat, no salt or sugar in any form, and 7 litres of water a day. Apart from giving me a bladder like a sieve, this should serve to make me drop those last few kilo's in the next week.
On the fitness front, I have been doing beach sessions with my trainer, and doing roughly 3 hours of cardio a day, along with weights and other resistance training. This gives me roughly 21 hours of training per week - and it is this figure which officially classes me as an Elite Athlete.
That's right people, I am an Elite Athlete.
My trainer explained that anyone who does more than 10 hours of training a week is classed as such, so I'm well above the entry level. It's tough being an Elite Athlete, but hey, I'm tough; I have buns of steel and guns of titanium and I'm willing to bite my own extremely toned arm off to get to where I'm going. Obviously, I don't like to blow my own trumpet - that would be a bit boring and repetitive for you all - BUT if you do want to refer to me as 'The Weapon', well then that's your choice. Also, if you happen to tell your friends about the amazing physical capabilities of 'The Weapon', that's your prerogative too.
My oh my; it's hard being so incredibly physically capable...
This week I'm hitting the gym hard, and I'm on the strictest diet of all time. Absolutely no oil or fat, no salt or sugar in any form, and 7 litres of water a day. Apart from giving me a bladder like a sieve, this should serve to make me drop those last few kilo's in the next week.
On the fitness front, I have been doing beach sessions with my trainer, and doing roughly 3 hours of cardio a day, along with weights and other resistance training. This gives me roughly 21 hours of training per week - and it is this figure which officially classes me as an Elite Athlete.
That's right people, I am an Elite Athlete.
My trainer explained that anyone who does more than 10 hours of training a week is classed as such, so I'm well above the entry level. It's tough being an Elite Athlete, but hey, I'm tough; I have buns of steel and guns of titanium and I'm willing to bite my own extremely toned arm off to get to where I'm going. Obviously, I don't like to blow my own trumpet - that would be a bit boring and repetitive for you all - BUT if you do want to refer to me as 'The Weapon', well then that's your choice. Also, if you happen to tell your friends about the amazing physical capabilities of 'The Weapon', that's your prerogative too.
My oh my; it's hard being so incredibly physically capable...
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
The Organised Tour
There is much to be said for organised tours. They allow you to take in the sights of various tourist attraction and destinations, with only the necessity of organising your ticket. Everything else is done for you - if you're lucky, they even feed you and take you back to your accommodation at the end of the day.
A key feature of an organised tour that is sometimes neglected, and rarely makes it to the company's brochure, is the possibility to view and even interact with an extremely undervalued species; a "Tour Freak". Tour Freaks often travel in groups of more than two, and sometimes comprise an entire 'family'. The leader of one of these Tour Freak Families (TFF), predominantly the male of the sub-species, is usually aged over 50, wears large wrap-around sunglasses, socks to his knees, sandals, a bum-bag, and more often than not has a branded t-shirt from the last tour he went on. Close to his side we see the matriarch of the TFF; she wears a sun-visor, and carries a large backpack containing copious amounts of SPF50+ sunscreen, sandwiches, a guide book, juice cartons and insect repellent. She runs after the aforementioned leader of the TFF, rubbing sunscreen into his balding head and taking photos of anything that moves.
The 'children' of a TFF vary across the world. I have been privileged enough to witness many different versions of this sub-species, from India, Egypt, Jordan and now, Australia. In particular, I can now lay claim to the sighting of a Jewish TFF Child. That's right, I have seen the clustering, and now the division of a sub-species by religion.
The Jewish TFF Child I encountered had the following distinguishing features: Abnormally pale skin, a Jewish summer camp t-shirt, very short shorts, a large box of strawberry and yoghurt crunch cereal, and an even bigger bag of pretzels. This was all topped off by a skull cap decorated with small red flowers. The Jewish TFF Child didn't stop eating the entire day, but appeared to never require a toilet break. This leads me to assume that this particular sub-sub-species has no bladder or bowel and does not produce urine or stools in the usual manner. This is probably an evolutionary adaptation to its usual environment of an Organised Tour, where toilets can be sparse and can also be hygienically questionable.
In conclusion, the TFF is a highly entertaining, yet somehow disturbing cultural phenomenon, which I feel requires further study. If any of my readers have witnessed a TFF, please send me the name of the country in which it was last spotted, and any dissimilarities with the norm which may help me in my research.
A key feature of an organised tour that is sometimes neglected, and rarely makes it to the company's brochure, is the possibility to view and even interact with an extremely undervalued species; a "Tour Freak". Tour Freaks often travel in groups of more than two, and sometimes comprise an entire 'family'. The leader of one of these Tour Freak Families (TFF), predominantly the male of the sub-species, is usually aged over 50, wears large wrap-around sunglasses, socks to his knees, sandals, a bum-bag, and more often than not has a branded t-shirt from the last tour he went on. Close to his side we see the matriarch of the TFF; she wears a sun-visor, and carries a large backpack containing copious amounts of SPF50+ sunscreen, sandwiches, a guide book, juice cartons and insect repellent. She runs after the aforementioned leader of the TFF, rubbing sunscreen into his balding head and taking photos of anything that moves.
The 'children' of a TFF vary across the world. I have been privileged enough to witness many different versions of this sub-species, from India, Egypt, Jordan and now, Australia. In particular, I can now lay claim to the sighting of a Jewish TFF Child. That's right, I have seen the clustering, and now the division of a sub-species by religion.
The Jewish TFF Child I encountered had the following distinguishing features: Abnormally pale skin, a Jewish summer camp t-shirt, very short shorts, a large box of strawberry and yoghurt crunch cereal, and an even bigger bag of pretzels. This was all topped off by a skull cap decorated with small red flowers. The Jewish TFF Child didn't stop eating the entire day, but appeared to never require a toilet break. This leads me to assume that this particular sub-sub-species has no bladder or bowel and does not produce urine or stools in the usual manner. This is probably an evolutionary adaptation to its usual environment of an Organised Tour, where toilets can be sparse and can also be hygienically questionable.
In conclusion, the TFF is a highly entertaining, yet somehow disturbing cultural phenomenon, which I feel requires further study. If any of my readers have witnessed a TFF, please send me the name of the country in which it was last spotted, and any dissimilarities with the norm which may help me in my research.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
A Secret Exposed!
You expect your parents to not tell you a lot of things about life, in order for you to spend the majority of your formative years working it out for yourself. However, there appear to be some things that my mother felt she would keep to herself, even into my mid-20's. For this disservice, I can only express wonder and amazement, and I hope to inform you, avid readers, of this discovery.
On our recent 'Impromptu Jaunt' to Hervey Bay and Fraser Island, Miln and I discovered the absolute joys of camping. Namely, the first class accommodation of Windmill Caravan Site, Hervey Bay.
On arrival, with our tent and beer in tow, we met Sue - the owner of this establishment. She informed us that one night's stay, including full use of facilities, a car space for Jayden and a small area of grass to pitch our tent on, would cost $22.00 - this is the first point (1) which I provide as evidence for the superiority of this method of accom.
After finding our tent site, and being given biscuits and juice by Sue (free of charge), we began to pitch our tent. Having never done this before (without the supervision of a Brownie/Scout Leader) we were slightly apprehensive. But, lo and behold, we were veritable tent constructing geniuses! That tent - a 4 man domed tent with windows - was up and running in less than 6 minutes. The satisfaction of not only managing this task without instruction, but also of doing it in record time, was overwhelming, and therefore proves my second point (2), that camping is interactively satisfying.
Once our tent was up, and looking much like a 5 star hotel would if it were condensed to a 3 metre squared area and covered with a tarpaulin, we moved onwards to inspect the facilities. To our utter shock and amazement, there were the following items of immaculate everyday comfort and living:
Toilets
Showers
Hair Dryer
Kettle
Fridge/Freezer
BBQ's
Toaster
Stoves
Swimming Pool
Never in our wildest dreams did we think that we'd be able to have a shower, or indeed utilise any of the above inventory whilst camping. Our stay was therefore on a par with the most comfortable stay in any hotel/motel known to man - leading us to our third point (3) of absolute comfort and 'home-from-home' appeal.
After all this excitement, I phoned my mother: "So, mum, how long have you known about this camping site thing? Hmm? How many times have you been camping in such an establishment as this and NOT informed me of the delectability of the general arrangement? Hmm? Do you realise the years that have passed me by without the knowledge of this superior form of accommodation?!" She had no excuse - just a tone of regret and sadness at the loss of her one greatest secrets.
Well, people, I urge to analyse points 1, 2 and 3, as outlined above; once the information has sunk in, I suggest a camping trip of your own. I wholly recommend Windmill, http://www.windmillpark.com.au/ and please say hi to Sue for us. Gone are the days of 5 star hotels; welcome to the world of camping.
P.S. The biscuits were Custard Creams and Chocolate Bikkies - not too shabby at all.
On our recent 'Impromptu Jaunt' to Hervey Bay and Fraser Island, Miln and I discovered the absolute joys of camping. Namely, the first class accommodation of Windmill Caravan Site, Hervey Bay.
On arrival, with our tent and beer in tow, we met Sue - the owner of this establishment. She informed us that one night's stay, including full use of facilities, a car space for Jayden and a small area of grass to pitch our tent on, would cost $22.00 - this is the first point (1) which I provide as evidence for the superiority of this method of accom.
After finding our tent site, and being given biscuits and juice by Sue (free of charge), we began to pitch our tent. Having never done this before (without the supervision of a Brownie/Scout Leader) we were slightly apprehensive. But, lo and behold, we were veritable tent constructing geniuses! That tent - a 4 man domed tent with windows - was up and running in less than 6 minutes. The satisfaction of not only managing this task without instruction, but also of doing it in record time, was overwhelming, and therefore proves my second point (2), that camping is interactively satisfying.
Once our tent was up, and looking much like a 5 star hotel would if it were condensed to a 3 metre squared area and covered with a tarpaulin, we moved onwards to inspect the facilities. To our utter shock and amazement, there were the following items of immaculate everyday comfort and living:
Toilets
Showers
Hair Dryer
Kettle
Fridge/Freezer
BBQ's
Toaster
Stoves
Swimming Pool
Never in our wildest dreams did we think that we'd be able to have a shower, or indeed utilise any of the above inventory whilst camping. Our stay was therefore on a par with the most comfortable stay in any hotel/motel known to man - leading us to our third point (3) of absolute comfort and 'home-from-home' appeal.
After all this excitement, I phoned my mother: "So, mum, how long have you known about this camping site thing? Hmm? How many times have you been camping in such an establishment as this and NOT informed me of the delectability of the general arrangement? Hmm? Do you realise the years that have passed me by without the knowledge of this superior form of accommodation?!" She had no excuse - just a tone of regret and sadness at the loss of her one greatest secrets.
Well, people, I urge to analyse points 1, 2 and 3, as outlined above; once the information has sunk in, I suggest a camping trip of your own. I wholly recommend Windmill, http://www.windmillpark.com.au/ and please say hi to Sue for us. Gone are the days of 5 star hotels; welcome to the world of camping.
P.S. The biscuits were Custard Creams and Chocolate Bikkies - not too shabby at all.
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