Swem Jannie Swem

In the last three days, we've been swimming thrice. I'm so proud of myself I could actually shake my booty. And have a little less wobble! Woot woot! We are on a mission, baby. Robin wants rock-hard abs. I want to fit into my wedding dress again. Not to mention a few pairs of jeans that I haven't been able to zip up since I started fertility treatments. No doubt my friends have gotten so used to seeing me in all of my wobbly glory that they've forgotten I ever even had skinny days. But, not for long. No way, José. Watch out, Old Fashioned High Waisted Stone Washed Jeans That I Love. Your early retirement will soon be a thing of the past. No matter that I hate wearing high waisted jeans since the advent of Butt Huggers. Your retirement days are numbered.
.
So, in the interest of self-motivation and all of that, every Friday I will be posting a weekly tally of the distance that I've swam swimmed swum (???). Just to brag a bit keep motivated. If that Ten Ton Tessy can do it, then, flingdingit, so can I.

The new regime

... so after my nice long rant yesterday, my hubby and I decided to take the plunge and dive head first into our New Year's exercise routine. On the fourteenth of the month. Better late than never, I always say.

.

A bunch of church friends were already swimming their four hundred and twentieth length, when I donned my costume and stood at the poolside clutching my towel, wishing I could come up with a valid excuse to get out of swimming contemplating this enormous step I was taking. It was when I spied a ten-ton-tessy swimming in the end lane that I decided enough was enough. I dropped my towel on the spot and eased into the water before anyone could notice my spongy thighs and un-waxed nether-regions. If you know what I mean.

.

I was rather proud of myself after doggy-paddling through six lengths. And that, on an empty stomach too. PLUS, I even did the breast stroke for half a length here and there. It's like the hardest swimming stroke to do. Especially if you have an aversion to frogs and every time you do the sprawl you picture frogs' legs... Now that's what I call super serious about getting in shape, ya'll.

.

I worked up quite an appetite. So as hubby and I were pulling out of the parking lot at the school I said, "So, how does some KFC sound as a reward for swimming?" Now, now, before you all start sniggering at my dedication and self-discipline, the power was still out. And how could I cook if there was no electricity?

.

That's my excuse and I'm sticking with it.

.

So, we stopped at KFC. If it's any consolation, I went with the healthier option. One Smokey Cheese Wrap, thank you very much. It came with chips and a can of cooldrink. What was I supposed to do? Throw the chips away?

.

Over my dead body.

.

Waste not, want not.

.

But, I elected to have a TAB instead of a Coca Cola. Muuuuuuch healthier. And less fattening. And sugar free. And caffeine free. Clearly the better option for my new lifestyle. I even told the lady behind the counter that I would rather have the Tab because I'm trying to lose weight.

.

I should have kept my mouth shut.

.

She immediately burst into a spasm of raucous laughter. "What? You? Lose weight? In your dreams!"

.

Who could blame me for having the coca cola after that?

Weighty Matters

I was doing quite well since my decision to diet, actually, until I arrived at work this morning and found that the menu for breakfast was that all-american-favourite (and this South African's too!): crumpets! Crumpets, people! Oh, wait, don't you Americano's call it flap-jacks? Or pancakes? Not sure, but I remember we ate it for breakfast when we were holidaying there in 2004. Now you all know that I have oh-so-much self-discipline. Snigger snigger! So, obviously I walked right on by without giving the crumpets so much as a passing glance...

.

Yeah right. I mean, LOOK at them!

.
Blasted weakling that I am, I had three. Then went looking for more. Thank goodness for me, the scoffers kids attending the Bush Camp were hungrier than I was, and had finished them off while I was drizzling mine with honey golden syrup.

.

Why does the best food have to be the most fatteningestest? Like, say, for example, lasagne. Or chocolate. Or coffee. Now, I still vehemently deny that coffee is fattening, but the proof is in the pudding. So to speak.

.

I'm really struggling to diet. Maybe it's extra hard because I never had to diet before fertility treatments. And middle age. Oh, and crumpets. So, in the interest of dodging calories, I've compiled a NOT To Do While I'm Dieting List:-

1. Walk past crumpets.
2. Meander through bakeries.
3. Watch late-night movies while the kitchen is unlocked.
4. Skip breakfast
5. Find out somebody is going into town and send money with them for coffee. And muffins.
6. Forget to get my exercise video put onto dvd.
7. Twice.
8. By accident.
9. Steal the Feta out of the salad (I'm so NOT a feta girl, but hey, cheese is cheese, after all).
10. Listen to Mika's "Big Girl, You are Beautiful" song. OK, maybe just one last time. For good riddance, and all of that.

Operation Skinny Me

It was on a whim that I ran into my fave store on the planet... it just happened to be right next door to the pharmacy, so I figured I'd just have a quick browse after I'd bought some meds for the foot and mouth saga. My excuse was that I needed to buy a few packs of boxers for my hubby (seeing as we still don't have plumbing attached to my washing machine and hence have not been able to do any laundry since we moved here! - but that's a whole other story) because he's run out. Of rods. Imagine my delight when I found PILES of clothes marked down. Now, you all know that I'm not above snatching an item from under the nose of an unsuspecting fellow shopper mingling with the masses in search of that perfectly good (albeit it slightly out of fashion) marked-down item. Who really cares if it's so last season, right? Me either. I've become quite the expert shopper lately too. Min bucks = cleverer shopper. I've also realized the key to shopping without scaring the hubby: For every item you buy for yourself, buy two for him. Very nifty trick. Feel free to use it if you like. So anyway, I bought some (cotton) boxers for hubby (they say cotton boxers help with fertility. Yeah right. Ah, well, worth a try!), a new fleecy jacket for hubby at only twenty smackaroos (marked down from ninety-nine bucks) and then I spied some track-suit pants for moi. You know - those cute Oprah / J-lo style trackies. Marked down to Nineteen Ronts Ninety Nine. I know!

... so of course I tried them on, perrrrfect fit!, bought them and drove home with a huge smile on my face...

Oh my word! Have I joined the ranks of the country bpumpkins??? Those big fat roly poly ones who sit on their front porches with cigarettes dangling from between their lips* and shout profanity at passers-by? ME??? A plus size woman!!! Oh no. Surely it's not come to this? Oh alright, so I did notice a little while ago that sometimes, when I stop moving, my thighs don't. But only when I'm wearing sweats. The loose-fitting variety.

OK, who am I fooling? If I'm feeling good in a size 40, it's time to get dieting. Damn! And I was so enjoying my cappuccinos and chocolates. And crisps.

I wouldn't even have bothered about it too much - the fat, I mean - except, have you ever seen really nice round boozies look good on a roly poly? Nope? Me either. What's the point of me getting my boobs if they're just going to be camoflaged by my fatrolls? So, Operation Make Me Skinny has been activated. Back to counting my carbs and everything else that passes between my lips. And as of Monday, I will be exercising at least twice a week. For at least twenty minutes. Each time. I know you're all sitting there sniggering and thinking what a procrastinator I am. Well, I don't want to scare my fat into thinking I'm getting rid of it - that's when they cling tighter you see. Well, not really. It's more about mind over matter fatter. If I have a goal in mind - especially a realistic one - then I can achieve goals easier and in so doing motivate myself towards more action.

They also say that exercise releases endorphins, and I could really use some of those.

So, Adieu, cheese and onion chips that I love! Farewell, barbeque fritos! Adios Cadbury's Whole Nut Chocolate! Hello carrot sticks. And cucumber. And ugghhh... low fat milk! Hello Skinny Me. I will learn to love you. Repeat after me : "Big Girl, you are beautiful!" Mika - you're my hero!

*I don't smoke... or swear... but if the shoe image fits and all of that...

P.S.

Just as a by-the-by quickie - you know I've been going for the Ozone treatment every day? And it's supposed to help me (a) fall pregnant (b) lose weight (c) detox... Well, I'm very pleased to announce that I have lost three, yes, THREE kg's since I started the treatments! (That's 6.6 pounds for you guys who don't speak metric.) And I have not been (a) dieting (b) exercising or (c) avoiding all the yummy foods. On the contrary, we've been stuffing ourselves enjoying all our favourites lately. I just thought - shucks we're under such a lot of stress with the business and what not, I'm not going to still add to the stress by watching every morsel that traverses our digestive tracts. In fact I've even had two cappuccino's this week. No wonder I seem to be coping ok!!!

Fat is as fat does

One groovy side-effect of the Ozone Therapy is (supposedly) getting thinner. Well, I could use some of that, that's for sure. I don't know - since I started trying to eat like a vegan (I say like a vegan cos I don't really consider myself a vegan yet... still trying my best though!) - the first week or two I dropped a few kg's... but since then, I've been getting podgier and podgier again. It might be that I put three heaped teaspoons of soya milk in every cuppa chicory I drink, and I have about 3 or 4 cups a day... so, that works out to... um, 3 x 3 = 9, yes 9 teaspoons (heaped, mind you) of soya milk daily. And that's if I only have three cuppas. Maybe I should go slow on the soya milk. That should do it.

.

So, anyway, about this dodgy podgy situation. I think I might be reaching early menopause. Something to do with turning thirty-two twenty-seven, and all of that. Reaching mid-life and getting that mid-life spread. I'm not kidding! Seriously. There's this not-so-welcome tyre that's decided to move in and settle around my waist. Not to mention all the flab dangling off of my arms. Ew. That's my pet peeve. OH! and have I told you about my square butt? It used to be pert. Now it's port-ly.

.

But I digress. What I wanted to address was menopause. They don't call it menopause for nothing hey. Men-no-pause. I'm not saying I'm a looker or anything like that, but in my younger days it wasn't unusual to turn a few heads. Hard to believe, I know. But now - shucks! Even if I wear lipstick, which is like seriously dressing up for me, not even a second glance in my direction. Thank goodness for my spiffy hubby who still thinks I'm hotter than the Namib.

.

But also, aren't night sweats a symptom of menopause? I get night sweats almost every night. I wake up and my nighty is drenched - especially around my neck area... and always around the same time of night too. Three o' clock it's pull the duvet off the bed and replace with a lightweight comforter time. And then at about quarter to four, fourish, it's grab the thicker duvet time again. Every night. My poor hubby. He doesn't even wonder what I'm up to anymore. He just lies very still, so as to avoid being whacked by the duvet when I'm shaking it out over the bed.

.

So, what's with this menopause thing? I think I should do some research. Any info from you guys would be very useful.

I have done it!

Usually when I'm getting ready to sit and blog or write emails or chat online, I run and put some tea on the boil, so I can sit and relax and read and relish without getting halfway and thinking - Mmmmm.... I shoulda made myself a cuppa tea! And now that we've officially stopped fertility treatments, I am back on my beloved's: cappuccinno's by the minute :o) Not that I'm an addict, mind! No - never that! Just love the smell n the yumminess. Hell, I'd take it intravenously if it were possible! Mmmmm - not an addict? OK, maybe just a little. The only problem is, I like my cappuccino's and my tea's REALLY sweet, strong and white (like my men! haha). So it gets me in trouble with weigh less. Yes, believe it or not, I am on that horrible, icky, diet. But, seeing as I've gained... ahem ahem... gasp gasp... TWENTY kg's since I'm married... Ew ew! I'm becoming a right fatty! I squawk when I look at my wedding dress and realize I actually used to fit into that! No. Gross. I've become soooooo lazy and it's really only my fault I'm all dodgy podgy.
.
So, here's what I did. On Friday after work, I went and paid the R750 registration fee to become a gym member (again! - my last membership expired because I neglected to use my membership more than 12 times a year! hahaha). But this time I was clever. See, I know myself well enough to know that I would rather feign life-threatening illness than actually go to gym. So, this time I booked myself a session with a personal trainer, which is actually going to cost me money. So now I have to go, because I'm meeting someone there who is going to take my money regardless of if I rock up or not. I may not be a mizer, but shucks - those personal trainers are EXPEEEEENSIVE! So, guess what I'm doing on Wednesday afternoon? Booo hooooo hoooooo.... I think I feel some angina coming on!