Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Day 1. Again.

Lads I'm not sure I can say I fell off the wagon when I was only halfway up on it to begin with. For my last post I did the workout, but I did it like a little whiney dickhead. Then the second day I was literally too crippled (and fat and lazy) to do it. Then the third day I did nine minutes of it and then I said to myself "Fuck this", and I had a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Times seven.

Then I had a little think.

What the fuck like? What the hell is the problem here? I only want to get fit like, it's hardly rocket science. It's as simple as doing the workout every day and not letting my fat sausage fingers lift kebabs to my little piggy mouth.

It's not that simple though, is it? Oh no. It's a complex web of emotions and self-sabotage. And Bounty bars.

I took a step back. I took a good hard look at myself. And then I sprung into action.

I'd been working so hard and worrying so much about this that and the other thing that I'd completely forgotten about myself, so that when I finally remembered to have a look at myself I was like "Jaysus boy, some staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate". Luckily BBB was away for the weekend so I had that time to myself.

First things first, I went through the underwear drawer and threw out anything that I don't absolutely love. Then I moved onto the wardrobe and did the cull of a LIFETIME. Like I literally have barely anything left! I may actually have to go to work in my knickers like. But I'm telling you lads, my soul feels cleansed. Then I did a major facelift of the house. Which only took me a few hours, considering that we live in one room.

Then I did a manicure, pedicure, full body de-fuzz and a facial. The old Jennie was starting to come back. Then I put on me little frock and do you know what I did? Do you know what I actually did like? You won't believe it like, cos I still don't.

I went out and enjoyed myself.

Meseff and Laura went out and lay out under a tree next to the river all day. All day like. Me, relaxing like. Usually on Sundays, it's my only day off so I spend it organizing myself for the week ahead and being knackered and stressed. Not this Sunday though, cos there I was lurking under a tree reading my little book as happy as Larry.

I wasn't quite as happy when I woke up on Monday morning with the back of me legs burnt off me but shur what can you do?

Despite my red raw legs, I got up and weighed myself on my weighing scales, which I bought especially, and wrote it down on a chart I made, along with my measurements. Then I did the first day of the Shred. I think Jillian was happy with me, because she told me I was well on my way to being "Shredded". Although it's not quite clear if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Then I put on the most adorable ensemble ever in the world that I would never have put together had it not been for my wardrobe cull and skipped out the door, all pumped up and ready to teach the SHIT outta some English.

Compare that now to the last Day 1.

Bitches, I be reborn.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

30 Day Shred - Day 1 - Jesus Wept.

Good Jesus. That Jillian Michaels wan ain't foolin! I got up at 7 o' clock this morning to do The Shred with BBB. Lads no joke now, it was nearly the end of me. Talk about a near death experience! I was so traumatised that later in the day I had to eat a Bounty and a Reese's Easter Egg.

I hate myself.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Mmmm Fatty Boom Boom

The last few months I have just been pissing along, working insane hours, complaining about working insane hours and just generally being a sad, sad, little lady. In fact, I was so busy being a sad loser that I didn't realise that I was going down a daaaaaaaaaaangerous road.

The road...



(Dramatic pause)



...of the fatty.

Yes it's true.

Don't look so shocked.

I was waiting in the lobby of an institute I teach at and I caught a glimpse of a thundering fatty in the reflection of the door.

"State of yer wan" I thought to myself.

But then this sinking feeling crept over me.

I had another look out of me side eye.

Music from the psycho shower scene.

"Holy fuck, that's me!"

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Good Lord. Holy Mother of the divine Lord Jesus Christ. How did this happen? How could this be? Because it obviously had nothing to do with the months and months of comfort eating to block out the supreme torture of endless teaching hours. Oh no, not a thing to do with that. Not a sausage.

Because I probably would have "et" that as well.

Now I love teaching and most of my students are delightful and I love the little bones of them, but some of them make me want to hurt myself and others.

The only blessed distraction I have comes in the form of a bebellied and boobalicious fat naked guy who enjoys an hourly cigarette hanging out of his window. Which, incidentally, is directly opposite the window of my classroom. May the Gods be praised. When I go to work tonight I'm going to try and get a high quality grainy and pixellated photo on my state of the art mobile phone from 1972.

Some thing boy.

But I digress. Back to the issue at hand. Drastic measures are called for. In a panicked frenzy, I directed my terror towards the interweb. I had heard whisperings that yer wan Gillian Michaels (who's she when she's at home?) has a DVD out that would make you rue the day you were born. 30 Day Shred. Especially for fatties like me. Sold!

I now wait impatiently by the postbox. It should be here by Monday. Hopefully I won't have died from a heart attack or diabetes by then. I think I might spend this time wisely, making a countdown calendar. Everyone knows that countdown calendars are the best things ever. Especially if they have glitter on them.

Note to self: buy glitter.

30 days. Let's see how that goes. I'll have to keep myself busy, because everyone knows that idle hands lift kebabs to fatty's mouths.

What else could I achieve in thirty days I wonder?

5,000 words of my thesis?

Why not shur.

I'll be keeping ye updated on this most recent undertaking.

In the meantime, keep your eyes peeled for dodgy photos of a naked fat man taken from behind a plant.

I know, I'm so good to you.