Boobs 1 to 6, Greener Pastures and The Toilet Break.

Tweaking.  Fine tuning.  Moulding.  Shaping.  Those are the buzz words of the moment.  Working on definition and shaping of my arms and back.  Of course the usual tummy and bum stuff is never far away either.  We have been mostly focusing on upper body over the last bit though.  There is one thing which is driving me batshit crazy (only one thing?). My side boobs, together with my back boobs, need to be obliterated.  What the hell are side and back boobs (also known as Boobs 3 to 6)?

Even Sharapova has Boobs 3 and 4!

An example of Booms 5 and 6!

In an ideal world, the back boobs (boobs 5 and 6) would join the side boobs (boobs 3 and 4) and amalgamate in the front with boobs 1 and 2, making me worthy of my now extended title of Ms OctoberNovemberDecemberJanuaryFebruary!!

Anyway moving on.  I could not put it off any longer.  We hadn't measured since the beginning of December and this was hanging over my head like the sword of Damocles.  Not being able to put it off any longer, one hot humid Monday I faced the scale and tape measure, and faced up to Mr Volontiya.  The scale was fine.  I was hovering at a 21kg loss, which is no real extra but hey, you know what, it's no gain either!  The tape measure was a whole other kettle of fish.  Boobs 1 through 6 had all shrunk a little, but everything else had expanded.  Yes it was a new tape measure but clearly that excuse is getting old!!  Time to get our butts back into shape me thinks!

It was around this time that I decided that I wanted to write about something different.  Something other than weight loss, gym and excess tummy wobble.  And, in a flash of Divine inspiration (hehe, you see what I did there right?), I decided to start a Fucket List.  Go have a look at the new blog when you next take a toilet break - www.givingatossFL.blogspot.com.

The new blog will prolly take over from this blog and incorporate both aspects - my continuing struggle for fat domination, as well as my attempt to do something interesting, exciting and different while I still have working knees.

And on that note, Item No 46 on my list is to run a (short) race.  So I have my eye set on an 8km run being hosted by the organisation I work for.  However, I have to tell you, that my rickety bones seize up at the thought of running 8km, which of course is also 8000 metres, or (even better) 800 000 centimetres! That's kak far!  This past Sunday I managed to run an entire 3 (yip, fraid so, THREE) kilometres before collapsing in a heap of ache and sweat and broken body.  Yeah I know - drama queen much. Again! On the up side (yes folks there is indeed an upside), the run ends at a pub.  Boom! So should I require medical intervention following the run they have various options, including some on tap.

Anyway, that is the plan.  8km or die trying (which may very well be the outcome).  I have one month to prepare.  My ridiculously fit colleague Jared (who runs for fun I might add - FUN!!) reckons that if you can walk 8km, you can run 8km.   Pfffft!!  Here Jared, have a fish! :P

So that's that then.  Next time I write I will hopefully have crossed a few things off my Fucket List, and have lost a kilo or two in the process.  Here's hoping!

And I'm outta here.

T
X

The Barrel, the Feasting, the Blue Footed Booby and the K.O.

Well hasn't the last month or so just been a barrel of laughs - with the emphasis on barrel, which in turn emphasises the "round" shape of my middle region.  I am getting somewhat ahead of myself, however, and should prolly start where I left off what seems like forever ago.

Divine went on holiday, remember?  Which was clearly where my trouble began.  He left on a Sunday but first met up with me at the gym and prepared a personalised, step by step 5 day workout schedule, taking me through all the machines and explaining stuff about weight and reps and whatnot.  Literally preparing a "gym for dummies" type of manual for me.  I tried to be enthusiastic when, during the first "solo" week, I trained regularly but was lonely as all hell.  There I stood, all forlorn and sad and alone next to the machines, desperately clutching my workout schedule in my sweaty digits.  It sucked big time.  I tried faking it - occasionally laughing loudly at jokes I recited in my head or yelling either encouragement or insults at myself (either in my mind, or out the side of my mouth Jeff Dunham style - no, this is not weird) but nothing helped.  It was so hard.  It took about two weeks of self-pity and misery before I got over the solo training bullshit and started getting used to my own company and that of my exceptional iPod playlist.

So anyway, the onset of my rapid and excrutiatingly painful downhill gallop could probably be explained by the little known fact that December and January are a time of festivities and eating and drinking and socialising.  Oh and did I mention eating? I nibbled and tasted and sipped and supped, as one does during this time. I trained. I really did.  I went to gym most days, and on the days that I didn't, I tried to skip at home or do something equally as strenuous like go to the the bar fridge myself to fill my wine glass instead of asking an offspring to do it.   But I ate.  Bread, chips, pudding, cauli cheese (cheese I tell you!!), peppermint crisp tart (truly, who could say no), pear crisp (hey, this comprised my fruit intake for the day) and more.

The result was twofold. Firstly my system shut down somewhat.  My digestive system said "oh no bitch, you didn't just eat that" and promptly refused to work at all, resulting in me bloating up like a beached whale and hitting some interesting nausea patches.

Secondly, my weight changed - what a frikking surprise! But see, my body was dead sneaky. I thought I was golden because every day that I trained, I weighed too - yeah I know, stupid much?  There I was, eating for my country, but for some reason didn't really have any sort of serious weight fluctuations (such a good word that).  I was so chilled, my mindset being more or less that as long as I trained regularly I could eat whatever the hell I wanted, in whatever quantities I wanted, and all would be awesome sauce.  Wrong.  Pear shaped (literally) is where things ended up. Stupid stupid stupid.  In reality what had happened is that my body had conspired with the universe and decided to teach me a lesson.  It pretended not to put on any weight for days and days and then, on the Friday after Christmas, I sauntered up to the scale and was faced with a weight gain of 1.5kg!  This (appropriately) can be put in a familiar form with the help of the Blue-Footed Booby:

This Blue Footed Booby weighs 1.5kg.

The onset of panic and night sweats was immediate and severe.  Complacency was not allowed to set in.  Divine had issued a stern warning about weight gain.  And aside from anything else I had spent a fortune on new clothes!  With renewed fervor, close to fanaticism, I chopped spinach leaves and tomatoes and ate salad and fruit and stuff - for 2 days. That's it. That's all I managed.  2 bloody days.  Eating healthily when you are on holiday is simply too bloody hard! And then it was New Year's Eve.  What was a girl to do?  Too many drinks, too many snacks, too much indulgence.

Next thing I knew, it was 2013. I promptly made (and broke) two NY resolutions, one of which was to get back to healthy eating.  (Still hopeful about implementing this one though!)

Oh and another thing happened over the holidays which caused some consternation.  At home one morning, dressed for gym, I bent down to pick something up off the floor.  My daughter - who was standing behind me - let out horrified yell and turned an odd shade of lime.  Turns out that when I bend down (which I do regularly at gym) all but 1 pair of my gym pants turns completely see-through and the entire expanse of my bum is visible.  So .... I am now the proud owner of sexy spandex shorts (pfffft) which I wear under my gym stuff.  I can happily bend and manouevre to my heart's content without displaying ye olde starfish to the entire gym!  Good times!

Eventually (and after what felt like frikking forever) Divine came back to work - thank all the angels and other fairytale folk.  Luckily by then I had managed to exercise the extra weight off - even though I was still eating like a stupid head.  I have to admit - even though I pushed myself hard when training solo, Divine expects waaaaay more from me than I expect from myself!  I am now, once again, the proud owner of bruised shins from kicking, aching arse and leg muscles, creaky knees and arms which are too tired to move!

I have to boast a little though, so please bear with me! During our most recent boxing session, I managed to hit Divine hard enough to wind him - twice.  Yip!  I shit you not!  I was so thrilled by the fact that he was forced to call timeout and take a minute to recover that I even did a "Rocky" move - punching my arms in the air, with a loud yell of victory - yeah I know, not very sportsman like but hey, I take my victories where I find them. And the K.O. shot had NOTHING to do with the fact that Divine is currently battling a bout of 'flu and isn't at optimum strength.  It was all me!

I have made a decision.  A new goal in fact. Slowly (yes), but surely (yes damnit), I would like to lose a final 3kg to 5kg or so and then change over to a maintenance programme.  The first and most pressing goal, however, is that I am currently only about half a kilo away from clocking down to the weight decade below.  i.e. Imagine, if you will, that I currently weigh 40.5kg (haha, as if), I am really super keen to clock down to 39kg. It sounds so much better to say that you weigh in the 30's as opposed to in the 40's.  You know what I mean? It's the small things .....

And that, my sweet carrot sticks, is my first post for 2013.  It is however the second time I have written this specific blog post - the first having been eaten by some Google glitch.  All up.  I was a little grumpy, I won't lie.  With a little luck I will have some fun stuff to share with you soon.   Till then .....

T
x

The body shots, the duck billed platypus and season's greetings!

Almost a month since I last wrote to you!  Apologies for the neglect, but things have been pretty busy at work and although I have been training like a demon, there hasn't been too much to report on.

Where do I start?  Ok, so armed with my latest measurements, as well as my new weight loss goal of 20kg in mind, it was time to get rid of the last 2kg before the Hitman headed off into the distance for his well deserved holiday.

Some of the training sucked. Big time.  But some really didn't! I had a huge amount of fun when Divine added a new element to our MMA sessions.  He has now included a belly protector type pad thing (technical term) into our training sessions.  Which means that, instead of me just hitting pads which he holds up in the air, I punch the living crap out of Divine himself - jabs and hooks and more jabs!  Hard.  With everything I have.  I am more used to body shots which include tequila, lemon and salt but, truly, it's brilliant!!!  I have to actually think about the punches I am going to throw - like a real fighter! And he makes it even more interesting by dancing around, exhaling loudly when I connect (which just so happens to be regularly), dodging my punches, coming at me like a kamikaze warrior so I can lay in with a volley of body shots - the whole tutti frutti! We look so professional, I shit you not!  Ok, in all fairness he is a professional, but even I feel impressive when we do this! And boy do I sweat!  It is a brilliant workout and adds a different feel to our sessions.  After a few "rounds" I can barely lift my arms anymore.  Such. Much. Fun!

Although we had decided that we would only do one final weigh in and measure session before Divine buggered off on holiday I decided, during the course of last week, that I would brave the scale to see how much I still had to go before reaching the 20kg goal.  Turns out that we had, in the meantime, reached said goal!  I was super stoked and couldn't wait to tell Divine.  Big frikking mistake!  At first it was all good as we discussed the weight loss issue and decided that, although we (I) still want to lose a few more kilos, we would now be focussed on toning and working on specific areas.  Let me interject here and say that I have become incredibly critical of my body.  Initially I was quite impressed, and did a lot of duck face posing in front of the mirror inspecting new found shapes and stuff, but now all I see are the problem areas, of which there are many.  Anyway, bottom line is that the areas I am still unhappy with are definitely my tummy (which, although down substantially, is a wobbly puddle of jelly):

my two little inner thigh love handle thingies:

Pretend this is me  (it's not, but just pretend) that bit she is squishing - that bit pisses me off no end!

And my arms still need some work.

Ok let's NOT pretend this is me, cos it's not (I promise), but you get my point right?

So that having been said, and a plan in mind, Divine decided to "reward" me with a "free weight" session.  The weight in question?  Oh, only the mother flowering 20kgs I had just lost!  Divine's argument was that I started with that, so shouldn't have too much of a problem carrying it around!  I had to lift the weight, jog back and forth with the buggering weight, and do hamstring thingies with it.  I gotta tell you - 20kg is heavier than it looks!

Posing with the 20kg weight

KAK heavy! Seriously!

It seems that Divine's current torture of choice - which focusses on said specific problem areas - involves exercising with free weights and something called (I think) DOMS (not sure exactly of the abbreviation but it goes something along the lines of Delayed Onset Muscle Stiffness or Soreness or Stress or something like that).  What it means, in layman terms, is that you train and think (erroneously) "ag man please, this is a piece of old takkie" and then between 12 to 24 hours later you start to become a little stiff and sore, but still not too bad.  Then, over the following 24 hours, your body seizes completely and reverts to its old favourite - George Burns style!!  You then limp and hop and squeal in agony for at least another 48 hours.

It's funny though because people seem to be surprised that, even after all this time and so much training, I still get stiff and sore. The way I figure it though is that when you stop feeling any sort of pain or stiffness, you have stopped pushing yourself and need to change your workout (or your trainer).  The point is, I reckon, to continue setting goals and working hard towards them.

With only one week to go before Divine leaves, it was time to do our final measure for the year.  Not much has happened really, with most of the measurements staying more or less the same.  The only noticeable change is a further 2cm loss around my waist.  Which is super welcome because we have really been pushing the ab workouts!  And of course the 20kg weight loss goal which I have achieved.  So, my weight loss in farm and other odd animals at this point is as follows:

A 2kg rooster

A 4kg lamb

4kg Duck Billed Platypus

A 1.4kg Mallard Duck

A 2.6kg Sphinx Cat

And a 6kg koala chilling on a log!

So to wrap up:  At this stage I have lost a rooster, a lamb, a duck billed platypus, a mallard duck, a sphynx kitty and a koala in a pear tree.  Ok so it's not a pear tree, but tis the season people, go with me here!

And on that note, this will be my final post for 2012 - go forth, my feathery friends, and eat, drink and be merry!  I will hopefully have some interesting stories to share with you in 2013 about all the chicken-up-a-turkey's-arse-up-a-duck's-arse which I will have eaten, not to mention the many festive sips of sherry!  This is assuming of course that we make it past our next scheduled "end of days" on 21/12/2012!  

Till then, be safe, be loved and be dead sexy!

Cheers!

T
x

The Tape Measure and the Bruises

So last week sucked ass.  Monday was weigh in and I strutted into gym super confident and full of my own self-importance - as one gets, you know.   I weighed in, took note of the tonnage, and met up with Divine for measurement time.  I waltzed through the gym, smirking knowingly at people, tipping my head in the direction of the regulars, swinging my hips just a little cheekily as I walked up the stairs, sauntering through the sweaty masses towards the room where the tape measure comes into play, joking and laughing loudly with Divine.  After a search for the white measuring tape, Divine had no choice but to opt for the yellow one.  Why on earth is this of any relevance?  Wait.  Just flipping wait!

Armed with this tape measure, we started what I had expected to be a fabulous session of measuring just how very awesome I was. WRONG!!!  The first result - chest measurement - was UP by 2cm.  WTF?  The second measurement - upper arm - up by 1cm.  At this point my smirk had been replaced with a look of abject horror.  Divine remeasured both areas twice - coming up with the same result.  My waist showed a measly drop of 0.4cm, and there was a gain of 2cm and 1.5cm respectively on my hips and thighs.  I wanted to sob.  Even my calf showed a gain of 1cm.  This was all too much to take in.  I was absolutely flummoxed.  So even though my weight had gone down a little more - now at a loss of 18.5kg - all my measurements had gone up.  How the hell could that have happened?   A very subdued training session ensued, with Divine muttering about possible water retention and hormones and stuff, and with me trying to work out how the holy hell I had managed to eat my way up in centimetres but not kilograms.  We decided a re-measure was in order and planned it for that Thursday.  

After gym I slunk into the coffee shop where Divine was chatting to another trainer about the tape measure incident.  Turns out .... now I was also somewhat taken aback .... but the yellow tape measure is wrong.  It isn't measured out correctly or some kak.  Bottom line is, however, that the measurements were all off and that the rapid onset of depression might not have actually been called for.  Holding on to the slim hope that the dude who measured out the spaces on the buggering thing was pissed as a coot when he did so, I went through the next few days alternating between anxious anticipation and misery.

It was a quieter, more subdued, less confident Tracy and Divine who approached the measuring room that Thursday morning.  No laughter echoed through the gym, no sauntering or cheeky hip swaying in evidence.  Just a pale (me), pasty (both of us), worried (Divine) duo heading for our possible execution.  Ok, fine, so maybe that's a little over-dramatic, but I am trying to set the scene here people, bear with me.

Armed with the tatty, frayed white (yay) tape measure we quietly did the math.  The results were as follows (again, total loss, as opposed to latest loss):

Chest: 13.5cm.
Arm: 3.5cm.
Waist: 21.2cm.
Hips: 14.6cm.
Thigh: 9.3cm.
Calf: 3cm.

Total loss in centimetres:  65.1.  BOOM!

65cm television ;)

The relief - you can imagine - was enormous.  However that whole episode took me down a peg or seventeen, and I realised that in reality it is actually damn easy to pick up the weight and centimetres again.  I have got to be super careful that I don't backtrack.  (Especially since all my new clothes are so bloody small and tight now that there's no room for growth, and I've given all my fat clothes away!).

Oh and Divine is going on holiday.  For a month.  In December. Shit.  This means two things:  Firstly, our new goal of 20kg by Christmas has been moved forward by a massive three frikking weeks!

Secondly, I will be training using willpower alone for an entire bloody month.  I will have to do exercise and yell at myself at the same time; count repetitions all the way to 30 without stopping at 7; do the shitty stuff like gogos or burpees or spider walks of my own volition;  spend a full hour on the elliptical machine at a high level, and not chilling at level 2 and reading a book; keep training 5 days a week even though no one will know if I miss a day or two.  Yoh people!  This is going to be the test.  Do I have what it takes to make it through the festive season with my weight and fitness levels in tact?

I have to tell you, however, that Divine has changed from Mr Nice Guy to Mr Doesn't Take Shit! After last week's mma / boxing session I ended up with bruised shins from the kicking bag.  Just FYI - and in case you think I'm doing it wrong - I am supposed to kick with my shins!  Evidence below!

I miss the days when he was all nice and sweet to me during training, saying things like "you are doing well", "you are awesome", "excellent work" and "take a break"!!  This has now changed to "your bob is bad", "your weave is lazy", "faster", "properly", "do it again"! Pffft!  He has  in essence gone from this

to this:

I suppose it's what happens - the natural progression of things, if you will.  He has to push me or I will never get stronger, fitter and (importantly) slimmer!  I do however plan on moaning about it until I am blue - cos that's what I do! So deal!

T
x

The Last Buggering Kilo, Introducing a Koala and the Proof in the Fat Free Pudding!

Wow - what a whirlwind it has been!  Following yet another in a long line of self-pity parties after the previous weigh-in I bucked up a bit and went on a mission - I had two weeks to lose 1kg and was bloody determined to do what it took. I know it sounds like an easy peasy task, but let me tell you - not so much hey!  All jokes about laxatives aside, without going to extremes as far as eating was concerned, I was battling to lose even a few hundred grams - I have developed a fair amount of muscle and definition and although I still have a way to go before I am completely happy with my figure, I don't have quite as much to lose anymore, which actually makes it harder to lose!

So for two weeks I trained, and mostly behaved (aside for a delicious red velvet cupcake at work one beautiful Friday morning), occasionally braving the scale, only to see a few grams difference, or no change at all.  I was pretty caught up in work events and planning my birthday and didn't really have too much time to dwell on the remaining 1kg. Ok so maybe that's a little bit of a lie - I lay awake in bed, around 4am most mornings, thinking.  Dwelling.  Not just about weight but other stuff too.  I had put loads of pressure on myself around my party, what I was going to wear, whether I would look ok in it, blah blah blah. I had made such a hoohaa (not that kind of hoohaa people, the other kind!) about the weight loss and I knew people were going to be expecting a rake thin skinny chick.  I am not that chick.

And then along came tattoo day - and it was AWESOME!  Loved every single second of every single needle prick. Here it is!

Outline done

Finished product

I am very pleased with the way it came out and even though it is currently at the itchy, peely stage (sexy right?), I keep wanting to show it off - even checking out strangers and waiting for them to make eye contact just so I can say "hey, wanna see my tattoo?"!  ;)

The last week saw me pushing myself beyond sanity on the stupid elliptical machine and the treadmill, doing interval running, squats, lunges, crunches - anything to push me past the 18kg mark!  Divine put me through my paces with much enthusiasm, even though he spoilt me with two boxing sessions in one week, which are my absolute favourite! Leroy - coffee maker extraordinaire - kept me standing and vaguely sane by making sure I had a cup of kickarse black coffee waiting after each session! Team work people, let me tell you!

And then Friday dawned - as Fridays do. I stood facing the scale, trying to decide whether or not I was going to get on.  I had pretty much made peace with the fact that, if I hadn't lost the remaining 1kg, I would be ok with it.  But what if I had?  What if the hard work had actually paid off?  What if my goal had been achieved? Apparently I am somewhat of a sadist!  I gingerly stepped onto the scale and waited for the numbers to stop moving - it took me a few seconds to register, but when it did I gave a loud whoop!  I had managed, somehow, to lose a total of 18.1kg - with literally HOURS left before my birthday!  I was so proud of myself!  I have no measurements to share because official measurements only happen every 3 weeks, but let me break it down for you:

4.2kg

4.6kg

3.2kg

And just to shake things up a bit, I have removed the poor old pissed off cat and replaced it with a 6kg koala chilling on a log!

So maybe the time has come, my wonderfully patient friends, to share with you the "before" picture and the "right now" picture. I am not going to say "after" yet, because I am still very much a work in progress.  But right here and right now is where I am.

Before:

Here and now:

So with that goal achieved, it was time to party. And party we did!  Until it wasn't my birthday anymore!  It was loads of fun but I am honestly so glad it's over!  Now I can get down to the part of being all grown up and respectable.  Ok .... stop laughing ..... maybe not so much of the respectable but, let's face it, I am all grown up!

It was interesting going to gym on Monday with no plan in mind, no goal in place.  We have now changed that situation and set a reasonable and hopefully attainable goal of 20kg by Christmas.  I work better with goals - something to set my sights on and work towards.

And on that note, you guys are awesome, I love you and I wish you all happy and hairy Movember!

T
x

The Tummy, The Tattoo and the Road to Ms October

Ok, so it's been a while.  Belly solly :(  Things have been kinda hectic at work and home, and finding the time to write has been a challenge.  Also - and this seems to be even more of an issue - I have had very little of interest to share with you lately.  I have been working hard at gym, gearing up to D Day, or B Day I guess, and falling off the eating wagon with alarming regularity.  Oh well.

The first weekend post-weigh in Steve and I headed off to Clanwilliam for a few days.  It would have been entirely unreasonable to have expected me to only drink light wine and eat salad, right?  So Olmeca Chocolate Tequila and plates full of yummy buffet it was!  Tough life right?

I then spent the following week trying to convince my body - through major sweating and working out - that it had not in fact ingested vast quantities of sugary alcohol and stodgy food. You would think I learnt my lesson right?  Nope!  The next weekend I was invited to my mom for dinner  - I don't even know why I should say anything more. It would simply be rude to pick at your food, or insist on salad, if you have a mom who can cook like mine.  Also it would cause her to worry about my health and wellbeing and I would hate to be responsible for causing her unnecessary stress.  So I ate. What was a girl to do?  Oxtail - lots of it.  It was amazing!!  There followed a disastrous lapse in judgment and I hoofed myself onto the scale that Monday!  Horror of horrors (because apparently this was a huge surprise to me), I had put on a kilo!  Pffft!  What. Ever. In an attempt to undo the done, Divine put me through some serious workouts that and the next week.  I think that he is also feeling the time crunch in terms of goals and my birthday and whatnot and appears to be adamant that my tummy will be a solid mass of muscle and definition.  I suppose one should aspire to reach great heights, but really, let's be realistic.  We have years and years and years of neglect and bad eating habits to turn around.  Not gonna happen over night - or even over four months!

What Divine wants!

VERSUS

This is a little extreme - ok a lot extreme - but you get my point right?

What I have done to remind myself to keep on pushing forward though is to book a tattoo for this coming Sunday - 14th October.  It's only my second tattoo - I am still a newbie - but it's an important one.  I wanted to get something different and interesting and deep and shit, and in the end (to the everlasting delight of the poor tattoo artist, I'm sure), I have chosen a butterfly.  Before you scoff too loudly, it is not the normal butterfly.  It is a Celtic butterfly and its meaning is important - INSPIRATION, TRANSFORMATION AND REBIRTH.  Clearly it was a no-brainer.  I have been inspired, transformed and sorta rebirthed!  Here it is.  Pretty hey?

Initially I was going to have it on the inside of my upper arm but then, thanks to Damon and Diane making snarky comments about how the wings of the damn thing would become extended as I got older, and how, in time and as my arm "wings" get woggly with age, the buggering thing would flap all by itself, I decided to position it on the top of my spine, just below my neck! No woggle there!

So with two weeks to go before the B Day, there was bound to be a weigh in to screw up my fun.    There I stood this morning, in the consultation room at the gym, while Divine measured all my bits.  And there I stood, my eyes literally brimming with tears, as he told me that the measurements were pretty much exactly the same - despite all the work that I have put in over the last 3 weeks. The only positive - sort of - was that I have lost another kilogram, bringing me to 17kg in total.

4.6kg

3.2kg

2 x hawaiian geese: 4.2kg

4kg pissed off cat

A 1kg hamster to feed to the pissed off cat!

I am incredibly disappointed, I won't lie.  I wanted to be at an 18kg loss by today and really expected more substantial changes in my measurements.  Poor Divine - he saw how disappointed I was, and did his best to make me feel better, going on about how I am doing really well, I am working hard, that it's a great thing that I haven't gained any weight, that the measurements are "off" because I am now gaining definition, toning and muscles are showing and such like bilge.  Didn't help.  I am still gutted that I didn't have a better result.  I have another two weeks to go before the deadline, so I will try lose that elusive mother flowering kilo by then. Yes I am being hard on myself.  No I won't cut myself any slack.  Yes I know that these things take time.  I don't care.  I want the result.

Oh, and you may remember that I previously mentioned that I had had my picture taken at gym?  Well it turns out I have, at my vast age, finally cracked the nod and become Ms October!  Ok, so it's not a Playboy cover shoot, but I am Member of the Month at Planet Fitness Plattekloof.  Yay me!   And we all know how much I hate being the centre of any positive attention right? How much I detest the spotlight being shone on me?  Try not to fall off your chair laughing, and also, just so you know, snorting with derision gives you wrinkles!

Now that I have officially bi-polared the hell out of this update, I will sign off with the following: perhaps it is time I kicked myself in my well rounded arse, and try to live by the words of the always worthwhile Seether:

"I'm not going to waste this

This opportunity's mine

I'm sick of complaining

About a beautiful life".  

Ring-a-ding-ding people, let's do this!!
T
x