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!!!