STRIKE A POSE

I did some stretching last night – yay!

By stretching I mean I was basically lying about – oh.

I can’t wait to go back to do some intense training. Lawdy! My body actually misses that feeling of ‘oh yeah! I totally rocked the treadmill!’

I am feeling slightly blah, especially about the fact that I’ve gained 2KG – whole ones! EEEEmuthafrickingK! Which puts me BACK in the triple digits, but I figured one week of intervals and proper food, I’ll be back on track.

SIDE NOTE: I’ve been looking at some pictures of…who else but moi, and I’ve decided I NEED to find a new pose – at least one with which to alternate my current one – I like it, it works, tried, tested and true is best, but dang! I’m feeling a little bit like a one trick pony.

The only problem is my face doesn’t look cute pouting, I can’t wink, and a ‘yeah’ open mouth just makes me look hungry. Any candid shots are touch and go…some are good, most are hideous – me looking like a scary fat black girl - This look is only good on a Jerry Springer stage while fighting a no good jail bird baby father’s other baby momma – this image doesn’t make me think Vogue Cover Girl.

What to do? What to do?

LASHING OUT

OK, so I haven’t been to the gym in a minute… but I have my reasons. Next week I’ll be treadmilling like a demon that’s how on it is!

But I digress.

In my sadly sincere effort to evade exercise – I dropped my ‘quest for fabulosity’ ball. The weight losing was a plan to achieve overall fabulousness and ultimate hotness but I was so unmotivated I couldn’t even climb the stairs to my flat… eek.

Side note: People get really offended when you take the elevator up to the first floor. They practically froth at the mouth and bay for your blood when you take the elevator down. I’m like, if you’re so fit… why don’t you traipse up the five flights to your hovel mmmh? I look like I can hardly manage rolling around on level ground never mind climbing… anything! Leave me and my elevator-taking fat self alone!

Inhale. Exhale. Let’s talk about something else…

As I was saying, my weight loss was a long term goal, I needed an instant boost. You know, that certain something guaranteed to add a little sparkle to your person. That something that makes you step with pizzazz and ‘errythang ain’t nothin’ but a chicken wing’ – you could even lose your job and it wouldn’t matter… why? Cause you look fly! (OK, perhaps losing your job would depress you, but you know the feeling I’m trying to invoke).

For me, that something is makeup! It’s silly because I’m not a girlie-girl per say, but I go ape for that ish! Trust. There’s nothing like the perfect concealer-base-bronzer-blush combo. And for me the pièce de résistance… FALSE EYELASHES!

I suffer a genetic predisposition of nonexistent lashes so when I put on a set of fake ones… I am transformed! But you’d think I’d had a face transplant with the response I received. Complements, but sheesh… it makes me wonder what people thought of me before.

More importantly what message was I putting out if people gawk at my lashed up makeover… one guy even commented on my ‘barbie-eye get up’ – Accusation? Complement? I don’t know… but like I said I looked fly!

They say the eyes are the windows of the soul… then eyelashes must be the curtains. But goodness, what have my curtains been saying about my soul… all this time! I shudder to think. Now I know my tray of faux lashes are probably deluxe floor to ceiling upgrades from the shabby plastic blinds G*d gave me – and I’m liking the spirit of trying and embracing new things.

So, being a D.I.T – Diva in Training, I will lash away – individual ones too!


At least I know I clean up real nice :)

AH...MEN

This ish is just too dang ridiculous… it’s got me bloggin like a demon on a Friday afternoon! **SMH**

I [after various glaringly obvious hintings from a couple of people in my social circle] decided that it was perhaps time to start entertaining gentlemen callers...

This was going to be fantastic, I thought. So I’d kiss a couple of frogs before my Prince Charming, swooped down to rescue me. He’d be tall, dark and dashing, sans white horse and shining amour… but a white Bentley and a shining Rolex perhaps? Oh, this was going to be a piece of cake!

Little did I know that the cake I was getting was a stupid-ass, crusty, tough, dodge old piece of cake! Hideous… to say the least. Let me explain:

1. Your stupidity does NOT endear me to you!

If you have a stupid thought - keep it to your damn self. I don’t want to be put in the awkward situation of having to tell that you’re stupid…and I will if I’m pushed…trust! When you say something stupid, I don’t think ‘Hehe, hey! Here’s a man with whom I’d like to spend the rest of my life’. NO! I think ‘Good lawd! This n*g*a just said some dumb-ass ish!’ And no amount of F-I-N-E fine is going to save your stupid ass…stupid does as stupid is!

2. Keep your crazy on lock-down!

If I’m in your flat… you’re half way there buddy! So… now would be a good time to take all the crazy you’ve been storing in yourself, and bury in some deep dark crevice where it won’t be able to come out and scare the crap out of me! It is not cute. I will think ‘OMG, he’s gonna give me crazy babies… and you can’t deny crazy babies. A crazy man you can say… I don’t know that fool – he crazy! But a crazy child – ain’t nothing on this planet you can do to get away from that! So, if you think it’s cool to be psychotic… don’t lemme know. S’cool. I’m good!

3. Buy airtime!

Minutes. Credit. Whatever you call it, GET IT! How you going to mack me with a Please Call me??? What kind of wack-ass game is that! I know folks been going through a hard time what with the recession and just bad money skills and all – shoot I even got to think twice before calling somebody. But when you see a girl, and you like her, or you just want to fiddle with her girlie bits… start saving if you have to… at least for a text!

4. If you like wrestling… STOP!

No grown man should like that ish! I have nothing more to say on the matter…well, I too have been sucked into the body-slamming world of the Undertaker. I’ve asked friends if they could smell what The Rock was cooking, but it was 1996 and I was 12. Now that I’m a registered tax payer… no more! I’m just saying.

Sheesh! Who would have thought… one month, a couple of dudes later and already I’m reeling from so much admin! It’s so hard out there single ladies… if these slim pickings are the norm... I might just ask my daddy to put me up for auction… bidding starts at 1 cow!

Anybody?

At all?

WHY SHOULD I FEEL DISCOURAGED...

...and why should the shadows come?

Heartbreak is the feeling wrecking havoc through my emotions today. I don’t usually do woebegone, but I’m just finding it very hard to fight the good fight right about now.

I feel like I take ten steps forward and a million steps back. Every thing I do is so ineffectual – and I’m a bit lost in the trees I can’t see, for the forest I know is there.

I try to work hard, but have nothing to show for it.
I exercise, but the weight piles on.
I engage, but substance is lacking.
I smile, but tears are almost always on the brink.

I say something has got to give…but what, who, where and when?

Do I give up and accept that perhaps “there is nothing special about me”…I’m not even “a little star”? Do I 'real up' and acknowledge I haven’t been chosen to claim the ‘ungetable get’ as my own?

My life is what’s going to happen to my dream deferred, so I shouldn’t be afraid of it. I won’t dry up like a raisin in the sun. Maybe just sag like a heavy load – so heavy.

It’s this thought that saddens me beyond explication, because all I want to do right now is…explode!

I think of the places I haven’t yet been, the people I haven’t yet meet, the love I haven’t yet felt, the songs I haven’t yet sung, and I just realize I’m just going to have to work extra hard to keep those shadows at bay - if I don’t, they’ll consume me.

Music is my portion, and what a constant friend it is.
I sing to make me happy.
I sing to make me free.
It’s then I know His eye is on me.
And I know he’s watching over me!

And if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that I’ll never let myself live a mediocre life –

which leaves only extraordinary for me!

THE FACTS

Your'e supposed to show what you look like when you do these weightloss blogs, so you can 'encourage' your readers...aka show off your hot new bod. So here goes:

This[pic] is what I look like.

I'm 2[x] years old.

I'm 4'11" or 1.5meters which means I'm short and have spent the last x number of years growing in the wrong direction.

I've lost 10kg (or 22 pounds according to Google converter) so far which finally takes me out of the tripple digits...eek! I know...

And no, you don't need to see pics of me in my skivvy bra and broeks to know I'm a tubster.

Jokes aside, hopefully my proof will be in the pudding (which I can't eat).

GYM DAY 6

Today was as the title indicates, GYM DAY 6!

After a brief week long hiatus, I woke up at the butt-crack of dawn, walked to the torture chamber called the Zone and spent an exhausting 30 minutes interval training.

Oh boy!

15 minutes in, what little muscle I had was screaming ‘mercy’, sweat was oozing out of miscellaneous places, and I was promising whichever God was listening that I would never eat another KFC meal again! If they could just take the kilos off without necessitating 3 sets of 15 reps on the abductor machine/Chinese torture implement, I’d call a truce with my junk food addiction.

My pleas must have fallen on deaf ears.

But there was something incredible about rock bottom. Besides being only half way between living and giving up – scary enough alone - it forced me to choose.

I found myself standing on the precipice of a very gaping, very deep and dark void. I could either jump, and then there would be no point, or I could let the last fragment of hope help me build a bridge to a better place.

When that timer hit 25 minutes, my bridge had one brick.



When I climbed on the scale and saw I was one digit down, my bridge got it’s second brick.



When I walked into the office and felt really good about myself for the first time in a long time…let me tell you, that bridge was halfway built!



This is something I think I’m going to 'keep on keeping on' at – if that makes any sense.

Between the weight and me…rest assured, I’m not what’s going down!

A CHANGE IS GONNA COME

This past weekend I went home feeling sick with influenza and planning to spend the entire weekend convalescing.

And I did just that.

I spent it slowly sipping on a potent home cold remedy, kindly concocted by my father, and watching supposedly motivational reality TV - Ruby and How To Find A Husband.

In the midst of my sniffs, moans and body aches I remembered that Sunday was indeed... Valentines Day. SMS's were sent to friends and kind replies received.

It was then that I noticed that none of these friendly friends were of the male genetic persuasion. Woe was me.

I also realised that I had gone from having a healthy surrounding of male acquaintances to none at all. I mean, I have male friends, but none that you know, a girl can sharpen her flirting claws on.

I also made the alarming revelation that my weight had plummeted my body confidence to such an incredible low that I didn't find myself attractive, so how can anyone else be expected to? A damn shame!

Moi being moi, I decided, I couldn't wallow in self pity overlong. With 2010 being the year of action, I was going to get off my lazy ass and do something about it!

But it was Sunday so I went back to sleep.

Come Monday morning I hit the gym like a lady demon with a purpose! I'm proud to say I haven't lost any significant weight yet but... I feel GOOD and that is what it's all about!

So now February 14, which I had championed as Singles Awareness Day and Feeling Sorry For Myself Day, shall not only go back to being Valentines Day as I plan to embrace my hopeless romantic side, but also that day I decided - I gotta love me first before I get someone else to do it!

So here's to L-O-V-E y'all....may you have it at all times!