As a former Brownie and Girl Guide, Be Prepared! is something I’m supposed to know…
It was back to work for me today after a three-week break. It was clearly a good one because even though I didn’t go away, I relaxed so much that when I had to login to my PC, I stared at the keyboard in utter horror. I called our IT administrator and told him it’s that awkward moment when you’ve come back to work and can’t remember your password. He laughed, stating my holiday was definitely too long.Continue reading
Now, I am meant to be sleeping, but despite taking a full sleeping tablet (I usually only do half during the week) and my other medication, I’m still awake. Charming!
My legs feel like lead. Steve pushed me to leg press another 10 Kg more than last week. That I could still handle, but hip lifts… Good Lawdy, them things are in a league of their own! My thighs are going to probably be stiffer than a corpse tomorrow.
Tarryn, my hairdresser (aka The Fairy because she was the most beautiful pregnant fairy ever) was at the salon on Tuesday when I went to Elena for my nails. She asked me quite bluntly, Where’s your ass. I told her it’s there, but because all my clothes are getting a little baggy, it doesn’t look like it. Truth be told, I don’t really have a well-rounded derriere, because my butt cheeks are on my chest. I’m very aware of (as Charlie put it) my great rack or as my Capetonian friend, Allan refers to them, The Girls.
Anyway, my bustline wasn’t originally what I planned on writing about when I started this post. Love was. Or rather the sacrifices one makes for those we love. When faced with a situation where you would have to either cause- or suffer heartbreak to save the one you love, would you really do it? And I’m talking about relationships between two adults here, not a parent for their child because that’s on an entirely different plain.
On the subject of plain, why is plain yoghurt apparently healthier than its flavoured counterparts? Is it because it’s free of colourants? Or is it just because it doesn’t taste pleasant? Like Chaimberlain’s cough medicine – tastes like battery acid, but my Grandmother swore by it. That, and cod liver oil. Blegh!
Personally, I believe almost any ailment can be fixed with warm salt water. Sore throat? Gargle. Sinus? Inhale. Constipated? Drink a glass of warm salt water and you’ll be shitting through the eye of a needle in no time. Guaranteed!
Okay, so this post went from tits to shit in just a few paragraphs, but at least my eyes are starting to feel heavy. Here’s hoping for some REM because if I don’t get any soon, I will not only have lost my mind, I may very well be Losing my Religion too.
This is a run-of-the-mill-one about what’s happening in my life. Some of you might likely find it boring, but I’m trying to write at least three times a week as part of my therapy and frankly, I can’t be witty and all sparkling-unicorn-personality all the time.
Tuesday night I saw Elena for the last time as my nail therapist. Seeing as I was officially her final client, I decided to have my nails done in tribute to her. I give you all The Final Curtain, the Encore being the sushi we had afterwards.
As with Chanté, Elena and I have made a promise to see each other at least once a month.
While the rest of the world refers to May 1st as May Day, we South Africans refer to it as Workers’ Day. Ironic when you think it is a day where (most) gainfully employed folks don’t actually work.
Yesterday was a day spent with good company. Harriet treated me to brunch at a place in an obscure little side street that I’ve been wanting to go to for ages called Carola Ann’s. The menu is not extensive, but Oh. My. Word, the food is incredible! And as an added bonus I had the best spiced Chai Latte of my life, which I didn’t take a picture of. When I go back, I’ll remember.
Even though the selection was limited, I had a tough time deciding what I wanted. In the end I opted for a Green Veggie Bowl and Harriet for a Carola Ann’s breakfast, and a Mocha. Few things satisfy this Misfit as much as a properly poached egg and while this one still doesn’t beat The Silvertree Restaurant in Kirstenbosch National Botanical Gardens; it ranks second on my list.
The late afternoon was spent with Eleanor and Nathan as I haven’t seen them in a while. Nathan braaied some chicken and chops for us and I made us an interesting green salad. After we’d eaten (Yours Truly way more than she should have!) Nathan went to play tennis with a mate, and Eleanor and I caught up on what’s been potting the past fortnight while the boys kept themselves entertained with Lego with babysitter Wreck It Ralph keeping a close, watchful eye. Somewhere during the evening Eleanor also made a quick lemon cheesecake.
Tonight, it’s another legs session with Steve. After only 6 PT sessions (and this is the only gym I’ve done), I can already see a difference in my arms and thighs. Harriet says my posture has improved too, which I’m glad about. Next week I have my final two sessions and then I’ll have to take a decision as to whether I will continue PT or not. I’m honest though, I don’t push myself hard enough and I sometimes give up too easily.
On the subject of giving up… If I don’t stop writing now, I’m going to be late for gym.
I am foregoing my workout today – I am so stiff, even going to pee is a challenge! Okay, so that may be TMI, sorry.
Have a great weekend, everyone!
I survived last night’s personal training with Steve. Barely! I am stiff in places I’ve never had places before. I am grateful that we only did upper body last night, because if we’d done legs as well, my gait would have surely rivalled that of John Wayne.
Food wise, I still not hungry. And I’m still craving cake. And freshly brewed rooibos tea – which I’d make if I could lift the kettle! On Thursday evening I shall detach my legs from the rest of my body and send them to the gym on their own.
Seriously, if I don’t have a banging hot body after the ten sessions I’ve paid for, I’m going to eat an entire New York baked cheesecake in a single sitting.
I’m starting to feel a bit like a Dumb Belle because it’s been ages since I’ve even held a dumbbell, but I’ve got to start somewhere again, right?
In the words of Alanis Morrisette, Isn’t it Ironic? I haven’t had (well, I still don’t) an appetite for almost six weeks, yet I’m craving sugar. In the form of cake. Cheesecake, to be specific. And carrots – not in a cake, but not raw either. And leeks, so much so that I went to buy some yesterday. And a pepper steak pie – a borderline-food-poisoning-garage-pie. And no, I’m not pregnant. What I am, is tired. It’s a damn catch-22 situation because if I drink a full dose of the sleeping tablets the psychiatrist prescribed, I sleep for a good eight hours, but wake up tired because the meds have not entirely worked out of my system and if I drink half, I wake up between three and four AM regardless of what time I lay my head down and fall asleep to the beat of my heart thudding in my ears.
In an attempt to entice some kind of hunger for food within me, I’m going back to the gym, under the watchful eye of my friend (and personal trainer), Steve. I have my first session with him tonight, in thirty minutes in fact.
If I don’t post something, even a one-liner, tomorrow, check the local papers for my obituary. I imagine the headline will read something like Crazy Woman Cardios Herself into Cardiac Arrest with the byline Heavenly Heartrate Reached.
Besides the possibility that I’ll want to fill my stomach with more than just rooibos tea, I’m hoping that physically exhausting myself will allow me to sleep through without the daily aid of the sleeping tablets and that I’ll wake up feeling normal (whatever that is). I’m still a far cry from bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, but I’ll get there.
Wish me luck!
There isn’t really much to tell. I’m fresh out of funny anecdotes. It sucks, I know. I’m sorry. After reminiscing about freezing a dead canary and Flaming-Phoenix-Cortina-Man, almost everything I think about blogging about simply pales in comparison. Well, I suppose I can’t always have a better act to follow the one I’ve previously sent on stage, now can I? So sorry, readers, you’ll have to settle for a mundane post today. I’m sure something exciting will happen over the weekend, which will make for decent writing fodder on Monday.
I woke up this morning feeling more-than-just-a-tad-stiff this morning. Steve was so kind to me on Wednesday at my first session of the year – nothing too strenuous, but yesterday he seriously worked me (I did three step-sets and I think I had multiple hearts beating in my chest). I was beyond exhausted!
I have made it through my first week back at work, although granted, twice this week I have lost a day, on Wednesday I thought it was Thursday, and today I’m thinking it’s Thursday again, so I’m not really sure what’s going on, but regardless of that, I’m going to sleep late tomorrow. Yay! It won’t be too late though because the sun tends to bake me out of my bed, but that’s okay; as long as it’s something other than the alarm clock waking me up, I’ll happily rise and shine (just not at the same time)! Shit! No! I can’t sleep late – Elizabeth is coming to stay with us tonight, and has to be at work at 07:30 – so I guess I’ll be trotting off to gym after I’ve dropped her. Ah well, she needs to just chill, so that’s what we’ll do. Dad’s made spaghetti bolognaise (like only he can! And that two weeks before my fitness evaluation!), for supper and there will be wine I suppose, so gym is not a bad idea tomorrow. All’s well that ends well.