“When things get me down, I take a deep breath
and go to my happy place. The fridge.”
This week I got a terrible fright. I want a new bra. I’m gagging for it. I ran
in circles for twenty minutes and I have started to notice when people put a
different wash out on their clothes line.
How sad am I? I fear I have
descended into a walking, not talking very much, nosey neighbour, an imperfect
candidate for a one woman neighbourhood watch scheme. It’s a sure sign you’re getting on when
clothes lines take on a new fascination.
“They didn’t have that tea towel out to dry yesterday and is that………? Yes.
Yes, it is a new pair of
socks.” Sad. Very sad.
There were lots of sad things during the week. I went to the dog’s altogether. I got all warm and fuzzy with yet even more
chocolate and although the stuff was eaten and digested by Wednesday, it goes
without saying that I Was Only Fooling Myself.
I’ve suffered a huge relapse - I’m not sharing my chocolate anymore. I dropped a Giant Chocolate Button on the
floor for Juno and in a moment of mad I-shouldn’t-have-done-that panic, I
almost took her nose off when I covered it with my foot. I think I really was going to stoop and pick
it up. Things have gotten so mud slidey
I am thinking of setting up my own Chocoholics Anonymous group. It will not
be like a book club where everyone knows all that is, is a covert opportunity
to drink wine. Chocoholics Anonymous will
not be a chocolate get together.
Although we could, quite possibly, drink wine. That might be nice. There is a rumour doing the rounds that red
wine can possibly help with weight loss.
But when you see the word “possibly” before the latest revelation or
discovery, you know they are just telling a blatant lie and the word “possibly”
is only stuck in there to make up a 1500 word count or to cover all libellous
angles. Aye, so I was bold again this
week. I only managed 3 runs and one of
them was running in circles for twenty minutes.
Let me explain. The evenings are
dark now at 8pm. Too late for hitting
the asphalt. This is not an excuse. There is no way I will run on a busy, dark
road of an evening. But we do have quite
a big garden. It is big enough to use as
a running track so that’s what I did.
Two of the Awesome Foursome were asleep so I happily put on some
cartoons for the older two and got into my running gear. I did my few weights as warm ups and put the
timer on the oven. I asked the Screecher
Creatures to shout at me when it went off.
They didn’t. I think it was a crafty
ploy on their part, to keep me outside and running around the garden all night. On the plus side, I got a bit longer than my
usual run and on the down side; the neighbours probably have all their “she’s
for the looney bin” suspicions confirmed.
And I have gone into craving mode.
I saw a fantabulous purple Shock Absorber in a magazine. It’s purple with blue edging. I am a firm believer in buying a gimmick in
order to keep up the interest levels.
When I was on my Wedding Diet years ago I bought myself one of those
yoga mats to do my floor exercises on.
It didn’t matter that I had a perfectly good, soft and comfortable
carpet underneath me at all times, I wanted my yoga mat so I went out and
bought it. I used it for about a month
and then got bored with it and returned to working out on the perfectly good,
soft and comfortable carpet. But it
worked. It got me over a hump. A Shock Absorber is not a gimmick I hasten to
point out. I repeat - it is not a
gimmick. It is a wondrous, over the
shoulder boulder holder, tit sling genius piece of engineering. And I just want
it. I’ve got two others, a black one and
a nearly black one. Well, grey because
it used to be white. I saw it in a
magazine and the big lousers had also put up a gorgeous pair of runners. But they cost my weekly shop so I won’t be
getting those any time soon!! A bit of important boob trivia for you: did you
know that your chests can move in the figure of eight when you run if they are
not adequately taped down? Well they
can. All that bouncing around stretches
a booby part called Coopers Ligament (don’t ask coz I don’t know). It prevents sagging but once it gets
stretched, the damage is done. So tape
up those chests ladies! Take it from me;
the Shock Absorber is the only way to go. It is no coincidence that I am putting gagging
for it and Brax in the same paragraph.
Brax, by all accounts, is coming to Ireland in December. Except
of course it’s not really him at all.
It’s the chap who plays
Brax. I’m not that gullible. And sure he’d be no good to me at all. Yes, he might look like Brax but he’s not
Brax and I am not one to settle for second best. Ah jayzus scrap that, I’ll settle. I’ll settle!
The man is a pure and utter walking indulge fest but I got a terrible
fright and almost gagged when I saw him bumping uglies with that wan.
Alas it can never happen between us now.
I’m sorry, but he’s been ruined for me.
I’m also a bit disappointed in his taste. Does he even see those ridiculous ear rings
she wears? I’m not mad about the way she
sometimes wears her hair either. And I
won’t get started on her fashion sense because I would only come across as
bitter. And I’m not. Not at all. Not even a tiny bit. But he’s let himself down with a bang (no pun
intended) and that is all I will say on Brax.
For this week. The other thing I
am gagging for is a girly night out. I’m
on a promise (definitely no pun intended) from my cousin that this will most
certainly happen over the next couple of weeks.
And if you are reading, missus, and by gum you’d better be, I am holding
you to that! It’s been so long since I had
a night out and let’s be honest, drinking home alone is not a good look. Until next week, folks. Oh, I was slightly mollified to learn I
gained just a half pound this week. But
in the words of many a school report, could do better.
September 6th -
ten stone eleven and a quarter pounds
September 13th – ten stone eleven and three
quarters of a pound
September 20th – ten stone twelve and a half
pounds (gained three quarters of a pound)
September 27th – ten stone twelve and three quarters
(gained half pound)
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