Survived!

Hi All!


I had my final weigh in last week, and.... (drum roll please)... my final weight was 90.8kg! This is super exciting because: a) I'm less than 1kg off being in the 80's weight range (yes, this IS a big deal), and b) I didn't cave and eat the entire confectionery aisle in Woolworths just before weigh in! I was good.. really good, and the final result showed that. So in 3 weeks and 3 days, I pissed off 5.6kg. UN-BLOODY-REAL. Now because throughout this blog I have based my weight off my own scales, I made sure I weighed in on these too so I was being as accurate as possible. My scales showed my weight at 89.8kg! Which is just insane for me to comprehend, but I'll celebrate properly when both sets of scales reflect the '8' in front ;)

Now I said I would post in here on Wednesday after my weigh in, but I really wanted to hold off. Why? Because our bootcamp break up was happening on Saturday and I truly believed this would be much more worthy of a blog post.. and I was right. Saturday rolled around and at 8am, I was in the hairdresser's seat ready to get my 'do did. I had the BFF in tow as we saw Tash work her magic on us. In the most professional of senses of course (for anyone looking for an AMAZING hairdresser - Obsidian on Brunswick. Tash rocks my world!). From there it was onto make up - because at some point during the past 12 weeks I've turned into a white-m&m-demanding diva - and then we saw the finished product. We looked pretty darn impressive for two girls who had spent the last 3 months hauling ass all over the oval. Fortunately now we were both hauling a little less of it though ;) At 12pm we ventured into the unknown adventure of Jade Buddha, clad in gorgeous things from head to toe. I can safely tell you now that how we all looked did not at all match the drinking goddesses we held captive inside.

The second that bar tab opened, it was on. You know that moment when 'last drinks' is called, so you stock up, buying at least two drinks each visit to the bar because you're worried that's the last alcohol you'll ever touch in your life? Well that's how we all approached this... from the first five minutes. These girls were stunning. I'm talking Hollywood glamour, catwalk ready, fashion models. STUN-NING. And then the drinks started..

Mind you, I was just as bad. By 1pm I would have consumed three glasses of champagne, two vodka, soda and limes, and a Karma Sutra cocktail (HEY! Minds out of the gutters!). So it was GO TIME. What happened from here was unbelievable. I thought I could drink... and I stand by the fact that I can. But NEVER in my life have I met a group of people who can drink like these ladies. And that includes men. It was like an AA meeting gone horribly wrong. I was LOVING IT. The drinks were flowing, the food was VERY few and far between... but we had strawberries and limes in our drinks so we were practically eating anyway.. Roll around 2pm and we've spent our bar tab. Yep, we went through so much alcohol so quickly that our four-hour tab was spent by 2pm. Fantastic effort by us I think! But the effects were starting to show...

There were bras on show, couch straddling, wigs and one girl turned into a German woman named Helga. It was pretty much the day we had all dreamed of for so long (I emphasise 'day' because it's important to remember we are currently the only people in Brisbane who are this drunk in daylight). The shenanigans continued with photo bombing, kissing the trainers, some needing to be held up by the trainers... It was good. The party moved from Jade Buddha to the Stock Exchange where they proceeded to pour free drinks. Yes, that's right. FREE. In hindsight, I am entirely grateful that I did not take up this offer for drinks. After an hour or two, BFF and I migrated to the valley. So as you can see by now, our night continued to downgrade in class... All the way to Magic City. HAHA. We proceeded to drink again and at approximately 11:30pm after KILLING IT on the dance floor (In my mind, I was pretty much Beyonce by this stage), we headed off home. There's only so many barely dressed 18 year old's that I can tolerate in one night.

Getting into the taxi was the first time I actually realised I was druuuunk. I remember being corrected at least three times that his name was Jarred, not Gerard as I continued to call him all the way home. I don't recall directing him at all, even when he asked me to, and I realised sometime later that I never actually received my correct change back. This isn't really that surprising, but it's relevant to note that at the time of getting out of the cab, I thought he had actually given me $10 too much. So my act of sneaking away with the 'extra money' was a complete and utter failure because it NEVER EXISTED. Getting inside my apartment, I proceeded to make toast. In the time of putting the bread in and hearing it finish, I had actually forgotten I had put toast in. I was over the moon when I discovered my toast two minutes later. Now this is where it gets bad...

I used my hands to butter the toast. No word of a lie. Using the handle 5cm from where my toast was to obtain a knife was all too hard. So the hands it was. And no, I did not use one finger like a knife/digging implement as some would reasonably think... I scrunched the butter in my fingertips and proceeded to 'draw' on the toast with the butter. Like it was a pen. HOW OLD AM I?! I continued this approach (which seemed genius at the time) for both pieces of toast. I then decided this was too messy for the peanut butter and vegemite - AND GOT A KNIFE! So I've created an entire mess, butter smeared everywhere, and then feel like a knife is appropriate. After completing my toast masterpiece and eating only one piece, I dragged my sorry ass to bed with the remaining piece (this was eaten sometime later when I woke up again). I did the whole 'one eye sideways text' because using two eyes made my head spin and I couldn't read it and fell asleep.

At 6:30am I was up and after feeling great for the first hour, I deemed it appropriate to stand in the shower and contemplate the meaning of life for 30 minutes. All while someone was waiting for me to meet them for breakfast. Breakfast ended up being sublime and although my very fresh apple juice started to ferment and look like something I was capable of bringing back up, I soldiered on with my day... that ended with two pillows, a doona, a couch, three movies and some Ben & Jerry's. I REGRET NOTHING!

My week 4 and week 12 comparison photos:

And (clearly early) photos from the break up party - including my amazeball trainers and my beautiful BFF Alicia!

                              Starting weight:           101.6kg

                              Current weight:            90.8kg

                              Total weight lost:      10.8kg

At it Again..

So I pretty much fell off the earth. Ok, well that's a bit of an exaggeration, but I'm going to roll with that. So why the return now, so out of the blue? A wolf whistle. Yes that's right peeps, at 6:45am this morning I encountered what most women would refer to as "crap" being yelled by a "bogan". How did I feel about it? A-F**KING-MAZING! Because it is the first time I have been whistled at in a long time. So to the men of Brisbane - keep yelling shit out windows. Because even though women claim to hate it and say it's disgusting, they are COMPLETELY LYING. We love attention as much as the next, so keep it coming! Although don't be surprised when we crucify you for doing it. We don't want to look like we're enjoying it as much as we really are. So yes, that's why I'm back. And it's probably relevant for me to explain what the last 6 months has entailed..

At the moment, I'm sitting somewhere around 90kg/91kg. I'm not sure exactly what my weight is, however be ready for next Wednesday's update when all will be revealed - my final weigh in for this challenge! If I make it to 90.1kg, I will have reached my goal of 9kg lost in the last 12 weeks. Now for those of you who are playing along at home - yes, I had managed to already hit the 10kg weight loss mark some time ago. Meh. I was travelling along brilliantly, however tripped over in a pile of chocolate biscuits and the rest is history. And by history, I mean fat cells on my ass. They were all there, just having the time of their lives. Then at sometime in early September, I courageously took the plunge and signed on to the Ashy Bines Bikini Body Challenge. *Queue sighs of disappointment*. Now let me get on my soap box about this for a second:

1. The 12 week boot camps are run by professional fitness trainers in each location, not Ashy as some might believe (although she is involved in the GC one).
2. The whole "she has no idea what she's doing" argument is growing tired. Refer to point 1 above as to why this is irrelevant anyway. She provides a food guide that is pretty much within the realms of common sense. It does NOT state "eat 12 cookies a day and you'll lose 5kg a week!", much to my disappointment. Although if anyone finds this diet, please email it to me. No matter what the cost is, I'm in.
3. The women I have met through this challenge have been an unbelievable amount of support the entire way through. There are 100 women in our challenge and on any given training session, you would have 40-60 women. Many will scoff at this, but our trainers (Ben and Toby - REPRESENT!) have this down to a fine art. And if you think you'll just be lost in the crowd and can slack off - WRONG. These women mean serious business, and I mean serious. They will eat you alive if you have a poor attitude. Well, this could be wrong.. I'd eat you alive, but more so out of a snacking problem that I'm slowly getting under control than anything else.
4. I am living, shrinking proof that sometimes things just click. I LOVE my trainers, I LOVE the girls I train with and I LOVE the support I have from everyone involved. I'd be very confident to put my entire goal achievements over the last 10 weeks down to this challenge.

So yeah! It's been a tough 10 weeks of food preparation (the meals I'm cooking are actually delicious - hit me up for tips!), hauling my ass out of bed at 5:20am and sweating like a pig under a spotlight, but it's been well worth it. So much so that I've already joined the next challenge! Have I cried? You betchya. Have I smuggled chocolate into my apartment past my housemate like I'm smuggling vodka into a festival? Absolutely. But ultimately, I've watched 9kg disappear (ok I won't lie - one weigh in I actually gained 1.5kg, but exams are HARD ok?!), starting at 99.1kg and hoping to be 90.1kg or less when I jump on the scales in a week's time.

I guess we'll know by the next update ;) keep your eyes peeled too - I'm going to post a very personal comparison photo tonight so you all know I'm not lying!!

                              Starting weight:           101.6kg

                              Current weight:            91kg-ish

                              Total weight lost:      10kg-ish

Happy as a Pig in the Proverbial.

Whoever set out to convince women that losing weight is a glamorous process must have had rocks in their head. Honestly. And yes I imagine when you're on the 'other side' of your fat blasters it's normal to attribute your achievements to "hard work and dedication" but surely this isn't all of it. What about the shameless guilt of annihilating your dinner and suggesting dessert, when your pants rip trying to do the crab walk on a driveway (yes people, this really did happen to me) or that look on your partner's face when you come home with a two blocks of Lindt dark chocolate.. and a bottle of red wine?

Just a heads up - this week's update is purely a rant on the bedazzling of losing weight in society. Now I'm not an image of perfect health.. far from it as a matter of fact.. but I am the face of a LOT of women who are trying to better themselves in one way or another. Frankly, the whole process of "society is getting fat. They aren't happy with it, so let's just use man made technology to remove the fat from food then add chemicals to make it taste the same!" is just obscene. After receiving advice from a very knowledgeable friend and doing some of my own research, I've decided to try and remove some of these items from my diet. Fat is not a bad thing, it's our portions that are killing us. And our food choices! A golden bit of advice I've never forgotten: when buying your groceries, shop around the outside of the supermarket. This is your fruit, veg, meat, bread and perishables. Most things in between are your danger foods. Except the health food aisle - I've made a truce with some of the items in that aisle.

So moving on from my food preach (apologies that you all had to suffer through that paragraph - if you want some info on this though, hit me up!), I'm going to use this week to give you a 5-point insight into my 10kg weight loss journey since the beginning of this year:

1. Have I consciously driven to woolies, purchased the ingredients, made an entire tray of hedgehog slice and eaten it over four days? Yes. Yes I have. Not a 96 hour timeframe I'm proud of, but it happened and I'm sure I'm not the only one to encounter a binge like this. I mean, it was delicious for the first two days (you're meant to let it set overnight - I gave it an hour and commenced gnawing on it) but after that I was simply eating it because it was there. All I'm saying is don't beat yourself up over it too badly because we all bloody do it. Part and parcel of life! Accept it and move on to healthier things. Needless to say, I won't be eating hedgehog slice until.. well probably Wednesday because that's what I'm like.

2. I sometimes have the guilty pleasure of going for a walk simply to see who looks at me from their cars. Now I'm not talking about the weird children who gawk from their back seat whilst snotting up the window, I'm talking the tradies on their way to/from work, delivery drivers, etc. I get that walking is not the most extreme fitness craze out there, but every bit of movement helps, right? And ladies, it's not a crime to enjoy a bit of attention shown from passing motorists. Sure some of it can be creepy, but for the most part it's good fun! Like many of you, I have a man that I wouldn't give up for the world, but it's just sometimes nice to know that men who don't have to like you still think you're worth the 90 degree turn ;)

3. I have taken to a habit of not eating if my boyfriend isn't eating. Now I encountered this on the weekend just gone, when we had breakfast at around 9am and then had a drink at about 1:30pm with the plan of getting lunch. When I suggested ordering, Vik said he wasn't hungry. This put me in a dilemma as I was reeeaaallly hungry but at the fear of being the "fat girlfriend whose eating while her boyfriend watches", I certainly was not going to go there. Naturally I sulked and we went back to nap. My stomach then proceeded to make noises I've only ever heard before from a T-Rex on Jurassic Park. I know that this will seem critical to a lot of people, but please let me be clear that I do not judge people who are in this circumstance - I'm simply being ridiculous and it is not healthy (mentally or physically) to take this approach. A view that Vik also shared when I told him why I wasn't eating. My point to everyone is don't be like me. At least on this point. If you are hungry and your body is telling you that - EAT. Not eating when you're hungry will lead to over-indulging later and create a whole new world of problems. Just make it something healthy, or as healthy as the options will let you be. And yes, I do plan on taking my own advice... at some point, anyway.

4. Do not underestimate the mental element of weight loss/body changes. This point is on a bit more of a serious note, but it is of utmost importance. Don't hold back on your emotions and always ALWAYS let someone know what's going on upstairs. I generally seem like an unstable, emotional cat lady who will fall apart at the drop of a hat, and guess what? I am! Well, minus the cat part. Vik won't let me have one.. but back to the point. Just because you find it difficult and have weak days does NOT make you weak. It actually makes you strong because you allow yourself to go through the emotions that such a turbulent roller coaster journey will put you through! Expect and embrace the ups and downs that changing your life will put you through - it simply isn't possible to change physically and remain the same mentally. You will encounter new struggles, but at the same token, struggles that used to exist will no longer be there. Embrace the change - you'll be in a much better place to tackle whatever life throws at you! Including an entire tray of hedgehog slice, but you all now know how that ended for me..

5. I've made a conscious effort to tell EVERYONE about my goal. It might seem crazy, deluded, self-indulgent, moronic and absurd, but it makes the world of difference. I genuinely do not believe that you can do this without telling friends and family of your goals. Especially in my circumstance, where I am generally the person relied on to hoover up everyone's leftovers to ensure there is no wastage (which, mind you, was a role I was more than happy to take). It can be awkward, and expect questions/opinions - "why?", "I don't think you need to lose weight.", "you've always just been curvy", "what does this mean?", "are you going on a diet?". Things like that. There will also be the odd pressure to indulge, ie. birthday cake, celebratory drinks, etc. I have a very hard time saying no to things like this because, a) I love cake and drinks, and b) I don't like to be the awkward person who rejects everything and ends up being a hermit who newspapers her walls. Not that things will necessarily go that far, but refer to point 3 for my weird perceptions of myself. So do what feels comfortable to you. I'm not going to tell you to reject everything because it's just not possible and I don't even do that myself. Nor am I going to tell you to indulge once a week because, again, everyone's journey is different! So make your own goals and celebrate a little milestone every time you achieve something you thought you couldn't. My pick of rewards are massages!

There you go - a little insight to my journey thus far. I get the fact that I'm not where I was hoping to be by the end of my 5th month but hey, shit happens and life goes on. So far I'm having fun, I haven't missed out on much and I'm not that person that my friends avoid because I will berate them for adding butter to their mashed potato. Or at least in my mind I'm not... hmm. I should perhaps ask the question. Anyways, enjoy your week everyone, and remember, every journey is different. Expect pitfalls and embrace the change!

                              Starting weight:          101.6kg

                              Current weight:            92.7kg

                              Total weight lost:        8.9kg (hoping to crack 90kg by next week!)

May Day! (or Mayday...?)

Hi guyyys,

Yep, I've been quiet on here. Not intentionally, just back at uni and was struggling to find time to commit to a blog post.

Now I could dwell on my failure during April but frankly, I'm not going to. My weight increased to 96kg at my worst point but you know what - sh*t happens. Accept it and move on. I sure am! Worst bit is that I didn't even enjoy getting back to this weight! It was all chocolate and chips, and absolutely no movement. I dropped the ball and elected to eat it rather than pick it back up. Haha. Yum.

So May 1 I kicked off my regime again by purchasing the Ashy Bines clean eating plan which gave me the food guide and access to the forum of all other purchasers. Legendary step if I do say so myself! So to any ladies who are thinking of it (it is a lady-lump only deal), get on board! Bootcamp will hopefully kick off again soon and I plan on being all amongst it!

So I'm on day 3/4 of the clean eating and I'd be lying if I said it doesn't take a lot of adjustment. Having nuts/meat/broccoli and no bread for brekky is a bit of a struggle at the mo'. And the idea of kangaroo meat FREAKS ME OUT. Poor skippy.. But sorry buddy, I've got to give it a whirl at least once!

So my success so far with this? I'm back down to 91kg. That's right ladies and gentlemen, my own gravitational pull (that seems to only draw in crappy food) is getting less and less powerful! My clothes don't scream out in pain when I try and put them on (with the exception of my jeans - I'm still carrying a muffin top worthy of a full tray of muffins) and for the first time in 3 years, I BOUGHT A JACKET!

Now this may seem like a really weird and pathetic thing to be excited about to everyone else, but to anyone else in my position you'll know how big a deal this is. Trying on a size 14 (and sometimes even a 16) jacket and looking like the hulk is not a good look on women, especially when I already look slightly butch. And let's be real, I don't need anything that's going to enhance my chest even more. But I put one on and I was extremely happy with what I saw looking back at me - I could do the button up and everything! Wooooh!

In two months, I'm off to NZ with my beautiful little family (boyfriend, sister and her boyfriend) for two weeks of skiing, partying and relaxing.. and if I want to survive on the snow without looking like an even-bigger chunky donut (iced green - just bought my new ski jacket!) I need to kick my rear into gear. Ha, that rhymes!

Now I know this is a short post, but it's better than nothing. I'm mentally, emotionally and physically back on board and ready to share the rest of the journey with you all! BOOM!

xx

                                                  Week 9 

                              Starting weight:          101.6kg

                              Current weight:            91.0kg

                              Total weight lost:      10.6kg

The Gain and the Journey Onward

My absenteeism from this blog certainly hasn't gone unnoticed. I apologise for the delay in getting two weeks' worth of blog entries out, however I needed to get my head in the right space before blasting this out into the big, bad world. Intense, huh.

The first week I missed was the overlap between February and March. That's right people, as of 1 March 2012 I was welcome to have my first drink after a month of sobriety! I enjoyed three glasses of wine which very quickly went to my head. I was loving life! Then on Friday, 2 March, I proceeded to take my new-found drinking freedom to a whole new level..

14 drinks. That's how many I could remember from that Friday night. This included a mojito, french martini, ciders, gin & tonics, vodka/soda/limes, cowboy shots and God knows what else. In my defence, I consumed all of these bevvies over a period of 8 hours - averaging 1.75 drinks per hour. Not bad! What was bad however was when I entered all of this into my weight watchers tracker the next day..

Ohh, I should probably explain. On the coercion of my boss, I elected to join Weight Watchers Online for three months. I honestly record all of my food and drink consumed in a day - not like a "food diary" your trainer makes you do where you summarise those 13 tim tams down to "four chocolate squares". Every food/drink item is apportioned a points value and depending on your weight, age, height and physical activity levels, your individual daily points total is calculated. My original total was 34 points a day. Additionally, everyone is given 49 weekly points which can be used for special occasions (I've taken this to be my "wine points", allowing me just under 10 glasses a week).

So on the Saturday, I entered my points for Friday... 93 points. 93 POINTS!!! What the hell was I thinking?! Not only had I used all of my 34 daily points, I also used all of my 49 weekly points AND THEN SOME! Unbelievable. I couldn't believe what I had done. I felt rubbish for doing it, feeling like I had just undone all of my hard work. On a plus though, I was whipping out some killer dance moves on the floor and all without breaking (too much of) a sweat. I had not been out dancing in SO long because during my weight gain it became uncomfortable and embarrassing. When your Saturday night boogie becomes a three hour aerobics class due to your level of fitness, you know it's time to change something. Anything.

The full next week became punishment for my Friday night get down. It consisted of salad, tuna, porridge and eggs. Oh, and salad. More salad than I thought I could handle, but I did it. Then came the ultimate test: the scales. On March 9 2012, I officially weight 91.5kg - a total loss of 10.1kg!!! Hurrah! Most of you would have seen the proof in the pudding - a photo of the scales reflecting this weight loss. It was such a great feeling! I was over the moon (not physically, I'm not that light yet) and could finally start seeing the results from my self-inflicted torture!

And then the inevitable came. Once hitting my 10kg mark, I became complacent. Chocolate started to sneak in more frequently, my restaurant options were coming from my banned list and life began to settle into old habits again. Wine also was rearing its head more often then what I would normally allow. I tried so hard not to lose motivation between January and Feb all to piddle it up the wall in March. The week settled in and by weigh in time on Friday, 16 March, I was back to 93.0kg. All that hard work to get down to 91.5kg (excluding the Friday night - although that was some wicked dancing) had vanished right before me. Naturally this low led to more grazing, more calories and more foods that I had kicked to the curb. I was struggling to pull myself out of the lull and in all honesty, I'm still in it. Eating until I'm sickly full, eating more frequently than I need to and eating even though I'm still full from my last meal. It's awful.. and all I see is my 101.6kg emotional version of myself staring back at me.

Now you see why this was hard to post earlier. For the first time on this journey, I had bad news. Not losing any weight in a week was tough, but it has nothing on gaining weight. But I promised when I wrote this that I wouldn't sugar coat it or play it out to be something it's not. I could have glossed over these weeks by telling something funny that happened, but it wouldn't have been me being real. Basically this is up for everyone to read because it's just that - it's real. There are going to be times when it all becomes to hard and you want to give up. There are times when the scales don't read what you'd like them to read. But my promise to everyone who reads this is that I will pick myself back up (including all 1.5kg extra of me from last week) and I will get back on that bloody wagon of fatties. Because this isn't impossible and it isn't too hard. To anyone who continues to battle their weight just like me, acknowledge your tough times. Remember how it feels to not achieve what you want - because it's those moments that will mean the most when you finally reach your goal. Those are the moments that you overcame all of the negative for the sake of achieving your goal and even though everything was against you, you knew you were worthy of more. It's a matter of dedication and wanting better for yourself - no one else. I deserve to be unconditionally happy and I'm going to make that happen damnit!

                                             Week 9 

                              Starting weight:          101.6kg

                              Current weight:            91.5kg

                              Total weight lost:      10.1kg!!!!

                                             Week 10 

                              Starting weight:          101.6kg

                              Current weight:            93.0kg

                              Total weight lost:        8.6kg

"How many kids do you have?"

“None.” I couldn’t have thrown the answer at her fast enough. Because I answered so quickly and bluntly, the poor girl knew she had just made the biggest faux pas in customer service - NEVER ask a question if it might offend. I remember once when I was working at a pet shop I asked a woman how her day had been. She answered with “I’ve been at a funeral all morning” and burst into tears! At 15 I had NO idea how to handle this and probably reacted exactly how this young girl had done with me.

Back to my recent traumatic experience - if it wasn’t already embarrassing enough for me, the mid-20’s (and rather attractive) man sitting all of two metres away instantly became engrossed in the blank screen on his phone like it was transmitting his own personal message from space. Good cover, buddy. He was obviously taught well.. “When a woman is embarrassed or angry, AVOID AVOID AVOID!” Now in the girl’s defence, I was ordering Chinese takeaway for one at 7pm on a Friday night like a cat lady, but still. I’m 22, not 40. She then gave me a free bag of prawn crackers (her way of apologising I assume) and they were gulped down in my depressed rage when I got home. I threw out half the bag though, had to remind myself why I wasn’t eating KFC which was what I really wanted.

The fact that I even have to justify my age sometimes completely enrages me, but that probably just secures the fact for some people that I’m just going through a mid-life crisis. Bastards. Now why it cuts me so deep is because I’ve always been considered “mature” for my age, and I’ve always taken this as a compliment. Women my age are generally intoxicated, inappropriately dressed and looking like that weird hair mass that you pull out of your shower plug – or at least this is what I see at 12am on a Sunday morning when driving through the valley. Now when I’m finally allowed to drink again (Thursday baby!) I am only aiming to be the first of that list. I’m still wayyy too large to be inappropriately dressed, that’s for sure! But I’m working on it.

So being considered “mature” was never really any skin off my nose. But what I want to clarify for everyone is that “mature” and “old” are two very different things. Mature is recognising that I am still relatively young, but I can mix in different social circles.. and do it successfully without looking like someone paid me to be their arm candy (and at this weight, anyone who offered this would have to have rocks in their head). Asking how many kids I have assumes that I’m old enough to have several kids… that themselves are old enough to eat Chinese food. Now she didn’t ask me “do you have any kids?” no. That I could have handled. But instead she asked how many kids I had, indicating that she genuinely believed that I had children.

My age and how old I look has long been a sore spot for me and frankly, I’m glad I’m getting the chance to let it out in this self-indulgent manner. This all first started when I was 12 years old and visited some new friends of my parents with my mum. They had a daughter who was about 16 at the time. She kept staring at me and once we finally got to talking, she asked me if I was 25. TWENTY-FUCKING-FIVE. Are you kidding me?! Now because I was actually 12, I thought I was the shit. Here I was, practically an infant and someone thought I was mixing it in the big, bad world. Flattered, I told her that I was only 12. I could have picked her jaw up with a shovel. In hindsight, she probably didn’t really have a good gauge on age, but still.

Now to the most offensive age-related moment of my LIFE. I was with two friends – Alicia and Gemma if you’re reading this – and I had just recently turned 18. Gem turned 18 approximately 7 months before me and Alicia 5 months before me. We went into the Petrie BWS to purchase our alcoholic beverages, proud as punch. For the record, I had a fake ID prior to my birthday. I only had it because a friend was turning 21 and had their party at the Met and I REALLLLY wanted to go. And if you’ve missed the tone from the rest of the blog, ID wasn’t really a requirement when I went places. I looked 30 at the age of 16 apparently. 

So we were in BWS and looking at the fake wine. You know what I mean, that bubbly, sweet stuff that doesn’t fall into any grape variety so it’s given its own heading of “sweet bubbly”? I’m talking zibibbo, yellowglen bella, etc. The stuff you drink when you’re young and want to look like you drink wine, when in fact it’s basically a vodka cruiser tallie. Then the 40-ish woman working in the store comes up to us and asks for identification. Gem and Alicia pull theirs out and as I go to pull mine out to show her, she puts her hand up in a halting motion and says “Oh no love, I don’t need to see yours”. I was dumbfounded. I mean it’s one thing to not ask for someone’s ID, but it’s a whole other thing to STOP THEM WHILST THEY ARE GETTING IT OUT! Just be bloody polite and look at the thing!

Confused as to why she didn’t ask for mine I made a comment to the girls along the lines of “obviously I look old enough, ha!” To which this woman replied “I thought you were her mother” POINTING TO ALICIA! You could have knocked me over with a feather (even at this weight)! I stared blankly at the woman for a second, trying to come to terms with the slap across the face she (basically) just gave me. I then proceeded to tell her that I was in fact the youngest of the three of us and had actually just turned 18! This was then followed by your typical smartass comment of “if this happened X weeks ago, you would have just served a minor!” Awesome, Jem. You stuck it to her… except at the time of saying this you were old enough and even a few weeks before that you had an ID that covered you. Gooood work. 

So what I’m trying to say is that this whole old/mature thing is not new to me. It’s been happening now for over a decade and yet every single time, it cuts just as much. This time when the weight comes off, I’m going to be that typical early 20’s woman – intoxicated, inappropriately dressed and looking like the hair mass you pull out of your shower drain – and LOVING IT.

Ciao!

            Starting weight:         101.6kg

            Current weight:           93.6kg

            Total weight lost:        8.0kg

An infamous girls weekend and the Byron Lighthouse Walk

This week involved an infamous girls weekend. To any woman (or man) who has endured a girls weekend, you all know what I mean. Too many bottles of wine, too short skirts, too many inappropriate public conversations and too many dares. The trip was going to be bittersweet for me - I was SO excited for a weekend away, however I had already made the ridiculous decision not to drink in February. So far I had not caved into the temptation of intoxicating myself with delicious fermented grapes (sounds a bit feral when it's said like that, doesn't it?), but this weekend was going to give me the ultimate test.

There were five girls on this trip - Lauren, Lisa, Sam, Alicia and I. Alicia and I decided to give our savings accounts a workout on the way down via Harbour Town. Now this was my first real shopping trip since starting this whole journey, and I was TERRIFIED. It had the chance to go very well, or very, very badly. Spoiler alert: it was awesome. One of my favourite brands (Veronika Maine), I went down a size in my dress. Given that the one I really really liked was only in a size 16, I bought it anyway to have it taken in. I know I know, seems pointless, but when the original price is $280 and you get it for $67, having it altered is still a saving. Back off. Ladies - you totally know what I'm talking about. I was riding on a huuuge high and fortunately for Alicia, I didn't spend my entire week's pay in two hours. Thank Christ for Alicia, otherwise the remainder of Byron I would have to beg for my food... which isn't that much different to what I'm doing now anyway.

When we arrived in Bryon, we met the girls and headed off to the pub. For anyone who knows the Beach Hotel in Byron, you know how great this bar is. Wicked view, huge space and plenty of sun drenched seats. What I forgot about Byron was how ridiculously hot everyone is. How could I forget that?! So the girls were off to get their wine and here I was with my soda and lime. It sucked and I was so pissed off that I couldn't just have a drink. However when the girls were onto the third bottle of wine, I was feeling less and less like a drink. Playing catch up had often bitten me in the arse before so I definitely wasn't going to tempt it this time. And given how unbelievably attractive everyone was in the venue (including my own ladies) the appeal of the calories wore off eventually. Next time I was back in this place, I was going to look like these people God dammit!

The conversation eventually turned into devices used to make a man clean your floors on his hands and knees, the coloured handkerchief code and corn dogging (all things you're welcome to look up in your own time!) much to the disgust of the older people near us. In our defence, it was hilarious and educational.. I will certainly think through wearing the colour brown in future, that's for sure. Then it became time to get ready for the night's festivities! Here we all were, showered and getting ready.. the girls are in their skimpy underwear, looking sexy as hell, and then here I was in my full body shape wear, looking like I was wearing a full length bandage. NOT SEXY AT ALL. But I would die without that bad boy - it saves me in dresses I couldn't otherwise wear. So I dealt with the fact that even if I was single, getting with a guy was basically impossible and proceeded to get dressed. I won't lie, I was happy with the end result. Dress looked good, hair looked good, make up looked good. I mean I wish I could pull off the clothes my friends were wearing (short, tight, hot), but no one in that pub had consumed anywhere near enough alcohol to handle that sight. Nowhere even near close enough.

I still didn't drink. Even on the persistence of Lisa who held a drink up to my mouth every 30 seconds, I did not give in. I couldn't believe it! It was SO HARD. I really didn't expect this to be this hard. All I wanted to do was jump the bar and skull every bit of wine in sight, but I wasn't going to do that - 1) because I was in a dress and if that bad boy went up, it would set off a chain of violent vomiting for all other patrons, and 2) because not even superman could propel 93kg high enough to clear that bar, and I certainly wasn't about to give it a good ol' crack.

I had made it clear to my friends that Sunday morning I was doing the Byron Lighthouse walk. It was general consensus that I was doing it on my own which suited me perfectly because I could (not so) silently die along the way and no one I knew would be aware of just how unfit I am. Riiiiight before bed the night before though, at 1am, I had changed my mind. I didn't want to do it anymore, and went to bed with the intention of not doing the walk. When I got up at 7:15am though, I had changed my mind again. Yes, I am a Libra and I am completely indecisive. So I got dressed and was on my way. After leaving the room I had realised that I forgot my runners, however at the risk of Alicia murdering me for making any more noise (I wasn't exactly quiet getting ready), I committed to the walk in thongs. I have walked numerous times before in thongs and this was just going to be another tally to add to the list. So be it.

Cruising to the walk in my car, I parked and began the journey. Within about 50m of walking, I was puffed. It was barely even a hill! I soldiered on whilst noticing that there were two different classes of people there with me - the serious athletes who probably run the entire walk, up and back, then have four raw eggs and then completes a triathlon, and the Byron women (very similar to the Ascot women).. coffee in hand, Lorna Jane head to toe, pushing a pram with a full face of make up on. No discredit to these women at all, hell - they were here and doing it! Good on them. But the other factor I was very aware of was that I was the youngest person here. By about 20 years. I imagined everyone else my age was probably either recovering from the night before or were on their boards ready for the morning surf. I tried surfing once and epically failed, so I'll stick to my land based sports for now thank you.

I eventually got up to the lighthouse, ready for the downwards decent. I was tired and emotional already, so it wasn't a great start, but the view was incredible. I remembered that that exact moment exactly why I loved Byron all of this time. The cruise down was easy, greeting everyone along the way while they stared at my thong-dressed feet with utter confusion. I didn't have the time to explain my situation to everyone, so I settled for a simply smile and continued on my merry little way. To anyone who knows what I'm like with directions, you'll think this is hilarious - I got lost. Well not lost exactly, but went the wrong way and found myself on a beach. It was then another 76 stairs back to where the track I was meant to follow was. SEVENTY-SIX. It was torture. I got about half way and then started to consider if I could walk the rest of the stairs on my hands somehow.

I eventually made it to the headland which is where I took a celebratory photo and posted onto Facebook - now no one could tell me I didn't do it! Then it was the ascent back up to the top. I thought I was going to vomit, and being overtaken by a 60+ aged couple who weren't puffed in the slightest, it's a lot more embarrassing than you imagine. Even more so when you've had to stop and take a breather, sweaty and red whilst not quite being able to breath. I was breathing in so hard I think I may have even stolen the oxygen they were trying to breathe! Alas I survived the walk back to the car and felt pretty bloody impressed with myself. Here I was looking like a disgusting mess, but a disgusting mess who had just achieved two things - not drinking all weekend and completing the Byron Lighthouse walk. I saw both things through and although my food may not have been perfect on the trip, I was feeling awesome about myself. Hurrah! Good luck raining on my parade today ;)

                              Starting weight:         101.6kg

                              Current weight:           94.2kg

                              Total weight lost:        7.4kg

PS: Here's a sneak peek at an updated photo of me. All honest opinions welcome!

Hamilton Hill Walk

It sounds bad, doesn’t it. Well it is, and I learnt this the hard way. So hard in fact that I’ve been too exhausted to write my week 6 blog (well, that’s what I’m convincing myself of anyway).

Now my boss warned me that it would be a tough walk, but unlike me, she didn’t exaggerate about how crap it really was. Her description was “it’s a hilly walk, but you feel good at the end of it. I still struggle with it a bit but we can struggle together”. My description to someone else would be more like “it’s complete hell. I’d rather burn my feet on hot coals than experience that ever again. It’s 60 minutes and it’s all uphill except the last 5 minutes where you get back to your car. I thought my life was ending and I’m pretty sure I mini vomited on three separate occasions. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy and it wouldn’t even be worth it even if there was a whole mud cake at the end of it”. So you can see why I probably wasn’t as prepared for torture as I could have been given my boss’ detail of the walk. But, I was determined to do the walk. Well, that and my boss simply doesn’t take no for an answer.

So we were off on our walk with her daughter and friend in tow. At about 500m in, we reached the incline. My boss turned to me and said “this is hell, you’ll be struggling by the top of this one!”. Determined as hell, I gave it my ALL, which is surprisingly more than I thought I had in me. By the top of the hill I was breathing a little heavy but certainly nothing like I thought I would be. Now I won’t lie, but I was feeling pretty chuffed with myself. Here I was, completing this “horrendous” hill and still feeling like I didn’t have to continue on my hands and knees screaming “go on without me!” war-style. I pretty much thought I was Michelle Bridges at that moment, getting carried away with how fit I was and thinking about what mountain I should take on. That mountain soon became clear – the mountain between the perception I had of myself and reality.

Next it was hill after hill. Even the flat parts were inclines, and they led onto the hills that were just steeper inclines. Some parts were so steep that the only way up was by stairs! I could just feel myself ready to explode with obscenities, ready to curse at anyone who passed me. No man, woman or child was safe from my fatty fatigue.

Onto my third hill (20 min) and having no clue of where I was going, I was ready to wave the white flag (my underwear). I could just feel myself getting red in the face and I made no effort to hide the fact that I was struggling. I wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear my panting and gasping for breath in Mount Gravatt. It was horrendous.. you know that sound that stuffy dogs make when they’re buggered and they sound like they're choking on their own skin folds? Well I was the human version of that. Sweaty, red and panting… doesn’t get much sexier than that! And if that wasn’t bad enough, my boss’ slender 19 yr old daughter and friend were just bouncing along in front like it was NOTHING! I was beyond embarrassed and I just couldn’t handle it. I was so exhausted that I couldn’t even manage to sulk about it! Now that’s saying something.

At one point, coming up what seemed like the 5,000^th step I had passed, I considered turning around. I genuinely did.. and I would just run (read: chunky skip) away so my boss couldn’t chase me fast enough. I mean, at least I knew the way back was down hill and I didn’t face any more torture! However at the risk of having to see her the next day and, well, every day after that, I thought otherwise. I’d never live it down, that was for sure. Thank Christ the end was soon in sight as from the Clayfield lookout, it was predominantly downhill. I had never been so grateful for gravity in my entire life. For once it was working for me, not against me.

Alas, I did it again the next day. I know right, stupid. And yes, I still struggled just as much (if not more) while abusing my boss in my head for convincing me to do it again. Buuut, if I were to see this through properly, I’d have to agree to some sort of physical exertion as often as possible, even if I temporarily hated the person that put me in that position. I survived without needing an ambulance so that’s what is important J not being able to have a drink after though, that was my breaking point. I didn’t have a drink, but my God could I just imagine myself downing an entire two bottles of wine (remember people, I don’t do things half arsed… excuse the pun).

Oh! And you might remember last week that in my cake-deprived depression I set myself a mini-goal of being under 95kg by 10 February. WELL I DID IT MOTHERTRUCKER!!! That’s right, this flabby is getting fit!

                                    Starting weight:           101.6kg

                                    Current weight:             94.5kg

                                    Total weight lost:         7.1kg



Welcome February!

January down and we're into February. Certainly with a few hiccups along the way, but good to see you've all hung in there with me ;)

Firstly, I would like to apologise to everyone for this week's post. You've all come to know and love the hilarity in my posts however this week's is a little more solemn and thought provoking. I guess I was bound to have a week like this along the line somewhere though!

Not only have I committed myself to healthy eating this month, I've jumped on board with two new additions this month - joining a gym and not... drinking.... for an entire month. Good grief. I'm pretty sure coffee and alcohol were the only things getting me through this whole thing! Nothing too adventurous occurred last week except for being sprung eating Hanaichi at the local shopping centre by two housemates of an avid reader of this blog. Whoops. As much as I considered brushing past this little slip up, I knew I would be reminded of it later. So, there it is! I ate deep fried chicken smothered in a curry sauce on rice. Am I glad I ate it? Well, yes and no. By the end (and no, I didn't eat it all.. I left a few grains of rice) I felt like crap physically and mentally. It was no where near as enjoyable as I remember it being which is probably attributed to my new way of life. It wasn't tasty and it felt heavy in my stomach. Such a disappointment feeling so detached from what was once one of my favourite foods :(.

This shitty feeling continued well into the next day when, as punishment, I had a tuna and salad mountain bread wrap for lunch. I'm probably meant to say "it was so refreshing and tasted so good!" but could not be further from the truth. It was bland, boring and I wouldn't torture my pet with it... if I had a pet. I had three bites and binned it - a new form of diet! I sulked for the rest of the day but even at the thought of that dung wrap I was NOT hungry, and that's how I stayed until dinner time.

This week I caught myself thinking of a lot of situations that I may stand to face. The most depressing one being that I am off to Byron Bay for the weekend in mid-February with my sister and a group of friends - AND I CAN'T DRINK. I keep reinforcing to myself that this is for me and my health, future and well-being, but that certainly isn't making it any easier! All I want to do is kick back, watch my trashy TV shows (Gossip Girl and Jersey Shore, anyone?) with a bottle of wine. I'm not going to kid myself or any of you that I'd stop at a glass because I wouldn't. Simple as that. Well, I guess that's why I'm cutting out alcohol this month :S.

The other thing I've been considering is my goals and where I've set them. At the moment I'm 96.3kg, so practically no movement in the past week. It has me a bit down in the dumps, but I'm not expecting mountain-moving weight loss every time I jump on the scales (the mountain being moved is my thighs of course). Then I wandered off in thought...

Last time when I lost 10kg, I weighed 74kg. This time when I hit the 10kg down mark, I'll weigh 91.6kg. That's still 7.6kg heavier than my starting weight last time (84kg). And when I was 10kg down last time, I only had a measly 4kg left to lose. This time, I will still have 20 whole kilograms left to lose! I won't lie, it instantly made me feel exhausted even just the thought of it. I imagine some of you are pretty shocked to read it like that. Welcome to my reality.

In order to not lose sight of the ultimate goal, I've decided to set some mini goals along the way to keep me happy and motivated. Goal one was losing 5kg which I have achieved! Woohoo! My next goal is to be under 95.0kg and I'm hoping to achieve that by Friday 10 February. After that, my next goal is my 10kg down mark (91.6kg) and I'd LOVE to hit that by the end of Feb. Not loving my chances (especially given my falls of the bandwagon of late) but I'm going to give it everything I've got!

As I've began to get my diet in check, which was the biggest hurdle for me without a doubt, it's now onto the exercise :-/ which I am certainly less excited about. My boss has roped me into doing the Hamilton hill walk with her next Monday and I'm assuring myself that I will go through with it. Therefore over the weekend, I'll set up a course of ropes to pull me up the hills because I am sure that this is not going to go/end well.

Also what I plan on doing with each week now is adding my stats to the bottom of the post to ensure I'm still including some detail of my weight loss (the single reason that I started this blog in the first place!):

                             Starting weight: 101.6kg
                          
                             Current weight:  96.3kg

                             Amount lost:        5.3kg

That's all for now folks! Stay tuned for when I kick the exercise component into gear next week ;)

Ah, Melbourne

Melbourne. What can I say? Food, coffee, shopping... I was completely in my element. As Melbourne was well on the cards at the time that I made the moronic decision to blog my weight loss, I knew this was not only going to be a kilojoule-laden holiday. It was also going to be something you were all welcome to read about.

Given that my holiday was going to be public, you'd think I'd make some form of conscious effort to avoid binging. I didn't. On occasion, I found myself eating when even the thought of food was repulsing due to the quantity I had already consumed. Naturally, it was all washed down with a jug of sangria. Hmm. In my defence though, this was fuelled by a particular holidaymaker who himself is addicted to spending and alcohol. Baaad mix with me.

All in all though, I came out of the trip pretty good. At my end-of-holiday weigh in, I only tipped the scales by 200g. This was attributed to the fact that we walked a LOT of places even though trams were an option. I couldn't work out the trams and I'm ridiculously impatient so walking became the daytime norm. Pretty freakin' happy with my minimal weight gain given that it could have been MUCH worse (for the sake of another guest, I'll refrain from saying anything else on this topic - after all, this is about me embarrassing myself). So what did I indulge in? Well some of my food choices were strawberry crepes, moussaka, chocolate mousse cake, gnocci, rack of lamb, meze plates and plum liqueur chocolate tart. Drinks-wise I consumed my weight in coffee, sangria, cider, cocktails and champagne. Snuck in some water here and there, but I can do that in Brisbane. Needless to say I did not go without. How I didn't need to book a second seat to get my other arse cheek home is beyond me. Oh, one other meal I had was a Melbourne favourite - the chicken parma. These were continuously raved about during our trip, so on a whim I decided to order one before heading to the Aust Open final. This chicken parma even comes with its own story!

So here I was on the second last day of our trip. I had certainly made no effort to curb my indulging, however over the past 3 weeks of controlled eating (minus the occassional blow out that you can read about in earlier posts), my ability to eat my plate, Vik's plate, and whatever Alicia doesn't eat on her plate, was gone. After our first meal in Melbourne.. together with a meze plate and sangria.. I was ready for a nap. I wasn't on my A-game. Anyway, where was I..

I ordered the chicken parma at a pub, much to the disgust of my fellow patrons. Adam's face said it all - you are about to gain 10kg from that meal alone. Challenge accepted. Although feeling a little guilty, I reminded myself that I came here with full intention of letting loose (and loosening my pants). Then out comes this glorious feast of chips, salad (pointless) and a whopping great big crumbed chicken breast. On first bite I was in love. Probably because it was deep fried. I made my way through the entire parma (ham removed) and continued to graze on chips. That's when I noticed Vik's plate, swimming in gravy. If you don't quite know my food habits, let me fill you in. Gravy is number one on my list. If it could be served as a drink, I'd do it. There is no better savoury delight on this earth than the brown gooey glop. Delicious.

As mine did not come with gravy, I hit a food low as I stared at his plate. Then I went in for the kill, ready for my chip to absorb the glorious sauce. I was not prepared for what intervened. At half way of my chip's journey, Vik SMACKED my hand, pointed in my face and bellowed "NO!". The pointing continued as I sat there, chipless and stunned at what just happened. It was like I was a dog he caught chewing on his shoes! I mean, are you kidding me?!

For the record, this is not the first time he has used this approach on me, but it was certainly the first time in public. I had no idea what to do, so I reacted the only way I knew best. I crossed my arms, put my head down and proceeded to sulk like I was three. Ace. Within about 20 seconds, Vik had just realised what happened. His gravy rage had taken over and he was not willing to share with the one person who would take gravy over oxygen. The bewildered look on the poor guy's face was gold (in my eyes). He persisted in apologising to me and trying to explain that he was looking out for me. Looking out for me?! More like protecting his beloved gravy! I responded to every word spoken with a grunt or a groan whilst turning away from him with my arms still folded, in a true childish manner. How this must have looked to the table behind us I can only imagine.

Given that this man has grown to know exactly how to fix things, he allowed me to mop up his gravy with my chips. This was a short-lived win for me, as reality sunk in that I just threw a tantrum.. in a public place with friends around... BECAUSE OF SAUCE. Unbelievable. Here I was thinking that I had really matured through this process, but I couldn't have been any further from the truth. So after I had finished stomping my feet (causing a small earthquake) and screwing up my face to make a point (I'm embarrassed even admitting this), we spoke about a more suitable way for Vik to address my issues when in public if I lose control. This no longer involves a rolled up newspaper when I piddle on the floor.. metaphorically, of course *shifty eyes*. I was also expected to take more control of my choices when dining out, realising that the food is fuel for my body rather than my body being a pyramid where I need to store every treat I see for my next life. It was leading to one huuuuge pyramid!

So that was Melbourne.. well, the food side of things anyway. By the end of the five days I was physically, emotionally and financially drained. Time for home and to settle back into reality, whatever that is from here.

PS: To anyone hitting up Melbourne soon - you MUST go to Pellegrini's Espresso Bar for dinner. Ask to be seated in the back if it's possible. The coffee is fantastic, the pasta is unbelievable and the chef is a delight!!!

Hurdle, trip, fall...

Wowzers, it’s been a while for my update! Apologies to anyone holding on for this to be posted (yes this means you, Josh), a few internet mishaps have prevented me from posting this earlier.

The past week was certainly filled with highs and lows. Highs being that I reached my first checkpoint of losing 5kg! Woohoo! I was ecstatic when I hit this milestone, however it was short lived when I remembered that I still have another 25 of the bastards to shake. They seem to hang around like a drug deal gone bad. But 5kg was still 5kg less that I had on me, and that had me feeling preeeetty bloody good.

What I also encountered during this week was my first real hurdles – a gift of chocolate cake, Friday after work drinks and a friend’s birthday dinner at a dumpling house. Oh God.

So I rocked up to work on the Friday, feeling like death warmed up. My only solace on this morning was my glorious coffee which was only scraping the surface of the shit that I didn’t give. A wonderfully evil colleague of mine – WELL aware of my current journey – had purchased me a treat that I stumbled upon whilst cursing the day ahead. There it was in all its glory – a piece of chocolate cake with chocolate ganache icing. It may as well have been a proposal, because there’s a slight chance I may have whispered “I love you” to the cake. No one was here to witness this though, so my reputation of not being a crazy cat lady remained intact. At a moment of weakness, I gave in to the cake and had my way with it. I know how inappropriate it is to talk like this about food, but you have NO idea of how much I love cake. It’s almost single-handedly the reason why people may second guess if I am “with child” when I am in fact “with fat”.  Thinking I was alone, I delved into that cake like I hadn’t eaten in months. To my horror – mid treat with icing all over my hands and face – I looked to my left to see another colleague of mine staring at me through the front door. I swear by the look on his face you’d think he saw me murder someone. Anyway, cake was devoured. Lard arse food – 1; Jemma – 0.

As Friday came and went, I was super excited for Friday afternoon drinks. Although a little put off by my boss informing me that a glass of wine was 5 weight watchers points (you’re allowed 26 a day), I was ready to have a quiet drink with friends and head on home…

Fail. This health-conscious approach was quickly abolished when I arrived and went straight to the wine list and looked at the bottle prices. Please note: I am not an alcoholic as this was shared with my best friend. Both bottles, that is. The vodka, lemon, lime & bitters however I drank on my own, because I’m a disgusting mess with no self control. Needless to say the night wrapped up at midnight and included a maccas run. In my drunken state I convinced myself that ordering a seared chicken deluxe burger and six chicken nuggets was SO much healthier than ordering chips and a coke and even proceeded to make a public comment along these lines. I had certainly now established myself as a horizontally challenged idiot who needs to learn when to put the bottle down.  

My next hurdle was my good friend’s birthday dinner at the Brunswick Social. Preparing myself all day to be good with my food at dinner (whilst gorging on cheese-laden tapas and a JUG of sangria) was pretty much a waste of my clearly well conserved energy. Dinner consisted of two rounds of dumplings and BBQ pork/chicken buns, which are little tasty landmines. On at least one occasion I found myself mindlessly gnawing on my third BBQ pork bun without any thought process at all. Well done on tackling your food issues, Jem. I did notice a glance at my bun intake from across the table that I reacted to by looking like a deer in headlights, with half a BBQ bun hanging out of my mouth. I have no idea why men aren’t chasing me. Fortunately my uncontrollable habit of inhaling shared food items was overshadowed by a bartender spilling 10 champagne cocktails all over a group of “Real Housewives” lookalike women. Thank you, bartender, for allowing me to gulp another two dumplings unnoticed during this event.

At the end of dinner, I planned to take a taxi to a friend’s house in New Farm. However as my punishment for eating 430 dumplings, I forced myself to walk to my next venue. Initially I felt good about this plan, however half way in I realised the walk was muuuch longer than I remembered.. and I was in 3 inch heels. Serious regret. My inner bigger bogan was fighting to take my shoes off and walk barefoot while my chubby classy self was begging me to suffer through the walk. As it was only 9pm and I had already reached my “drunken slob” quota for the week on Friday night, the shoes stayed on. Oh how I hated life. I can now comfortably say that a 2km walk in heels is NOT A WORTHWHILE EXPERIENCE. Your will learn NOTHING from this other than walking 2km in heels at 96kg will only wear your heels down to the steel screw. So now I’m a blistered blimp and down $30 from having my shoes re-heeled. Fatty isn’t having fun anymore!

Next week’s big test is Melbourne… Bring on the St Kilda pastries!* Enjoy your week everyone J

*Expect a lot of whinging in next week’s post.