Monday, 14 January 2013

58 days and counting...gulp...

This week, it goes up a notch and I'm rejoining my old gym. Would have done it earlier but old jelly pelvis here *weirdly* thought it ought to wait...

Thursday, 10 January 2013

62 days and counting...

This time one year ago, I was lying in the RVI waiting for labour to start. Bloody hell.

Wednesday, 9 January 2013

63 days and counting...

3 walks in 3 days.

Took the small one for a push at Newbiggin-by-the Sea this morning, and just to prove that every day actually is a school day, I found out that when Newbiggin was a port, it was ranked 3rd largest after London and Hull for the import of grain...


Have a photo.

Tuesday, 8 January 2013


Ok, I had help but you just know I've been ears deep in a chocolate nose bag for the last week!

64 days and counting...*gulp*

I'm not one of nature's dieters. In fact, (even though I think horoscopes are intrinsically mince) I trot out the line "I'm a Libran, I don't do denial" as I slide a slightly podgy hand into the mega-tonne-super-skip of Celebrations with tedious regularity.

Ah, Celebrations, somehow an altogether dirtier chocolate than many of the others, that leaves you feeling like the Monday after a good festival. If you have more than one, you end up hollow, seedy, grubby and with a residual undertow of guilt because you've been dragged into a whirl of Dionysian excess, where somewhere in your head there are young oily men in short shorts and a glamorous woman riding a white pony through the room while wearing a silver lame' jumpsuit while you're eating them.

However it's a nasty come down when it's over. I went through the Festives patting myself on the back, for *somehow* I had managed to avoid the worst excesses and was feeling quite snappy. This is,however, due to the fact that getting up at 6am with a fractious toddler (with bio-hazard arse) with a hangover is hell on a stick and having tried it, the memory is a wonderful resolve stiffener when you're tempted to let your imbibing inhibitions down.

Then the Christmas sweets got opened and 7 days later here I am committing myself to weaning myself off the stuff like a penitent sinner. I also can't get out for a walk today because I went yesterday and I ache - ah, pregnancy, it's been about as good for me physically as being pushed down a flight of stairs wearing a suit of armour..

Monday, 7 January 2013

65 days and counting...*gulp*

Regrettably today is the day when the shizz gets real and I have to attempt to achieve a level of fitness before going skiing in 65 days time.

To that end, I've just joined

I've not been able to exercise properly since about July 2011 when pelvic girdle pain/SPD put paid to me having a nice active pregnancy and eventually put me on crutches for 4 months. Not forgetting getting pushed around Ikea in a wheelchair - now that was an experience. Not one I particularly want to repeat.

To add insult to injury, I had a C-section, the recovery was a bit arduous and extended and I have a  couple of other knackered parts that mean I have to exercise a bit of discretion. So chucking myself off a French Alp makes perfect sense. If you're bloody minded with a flagrant disregard for one's own physical well-being that is.

If losing weight is a side effect, great, plus I'd like to stop my chest's attempt at world domination in it's tracks if at all possible. I am Miss September in the 2013 Miss Unruly Norks Calendar at the moment.


Says she, chomping on a cracker smothered in black pepper Boursin...

(Edited because I can't add up)

*All opinions and comments made in this blog are mine and I am in no way affiliated with myfitnesspal or any other company*