Fighting the Fat – Before & After

Before FF: I’d eat Hungry Jack’s for lunch nearly every day, only mixing it up with a pub lunch (hello, chicken schnit & chips, or Dirty Bird (aka KFC)).
After FF: I prepare and cook up delicious lunches every day, keeping myself interested with variety. Have everything from tomato-based pasta, rice and couscous dishes, to sandwiches, salads, meat and vegies, soups (and if I am feeling lazy, I buy nigori salmon sushi and miso soup).

Before FF: I woke up at 7.30am, struggled out the door, then spent a good part of mid-morning trying to wake up. I sometimes walked, but often ended up catching the bus because I ran out of time.
After FF: I wake up at 6am, exercise (usually a walk, but sometimes taebo or a run), have a delicious brekkie then walk to work, often annoying people with my endorphin-induced happiness.

Before FF: I’d eat to the point of feeling absolutely stuffed (I’m even talking past the gotta-unbuckle-my-jeans point… I’m talking can-we-get-an-enema-over-here? point) all day, every day. I felt fat and bloated all the time, and even if I was undeniably full, I stood by my theory of stomach compartments and continued to pump myself with food – even if I knew I was about to burst.
After FF: I listen to my body’s hunger signals 90 percent of the time. I’m not perfect, so sometimes I muck it up, but most of the time I only eat when hungry and until satisfied – NOT full. Party season is hard though. Really hard.

Before FF: I ate ate ate ate ate ate… and drank water, but not nearly enough.
After FF: I think about whether I am thirsty or hungry. I question why I am eating. Am I thirsty? Or bored? Or procrastinating from doing work/packing etc? Am I horny? (haha, I am NOT kidding). Am I happy? You’d be surprised how often I am anything but hungry… a simple drink of water and my supposed “hunger” is forgotten.

Before FF: I felt embarrassed to get my kit off, even with someone who thought I was the hottest thing on earth.
After FF: FF hasn’t just changed me physically, it’s changed me mentally. I now feel healthier and happier than I ever have… and to put it sweetly – keeping my clothes ON has become a challenge 😛

Before FF: I cooked three things, badly: spaghetti bolognaise, burritoes and toast, and ate out (Thai mostly) nearly every night.
After FF: I cook for myself, learn new recipes every week, and barely eat out at all (unless it’s Japanese, Vietnamese or Italian/seafood…).

Before FF: I felt unhappy with myself, hated my reflection in the mirror, felt uncomfortable in certain clothes, felt extremely unhealthy and unfit, but also lazy and unsure where to start.
After FF: I feel like I can do anything, I feel like a goddess (like every woman should) and I feel like I have a zillion more goals within me to achieve.

How to eat yourself into a coma (and other Fat Fighting stuff-ups)

I ate myself into a coma today.

The morning was off to a fabulous start: I naturally woke up at the crack of dawn (aka 5.50am) and delighted in the art of Chrissie present opening with Mama and Papa Booti (Mini Booti is out-of-town). Kick-started my metabolism with a Lindt choccie ball (or three), then devoured my usual brekkie: All Bran, strawberries and skim milk. Not too bad, not too bad… fairly healthy. Headed off on a 40 min walk (even dabbled in a brief gallop around the park with my orenji pooch). Healthy, oh yes. Then the real chocolate fest started. Lindt ball after Lindt ball slid down my throat like I was one of those clowns at the fair, sucking down the little white balls (charming). The Darrell Lea nougat pudding copped a pounding (pounding a pudding, such a delightfult act). Then it all went c-c-c-c-c-RAZY (in the yummiest way possible). After what can only be described as a million-trillion-gazillion kilojoules later, I collapsed into bed circa 6pm, a broken women. Tummy bloated, almost touching the ceiling, as I lay flat on my back unable to move, memories of the past 12 hours food-fest flashing before my eyes.

Managed to drag myself out of bed – feeling all kinds of jelly-belly – before setting off on a 20 minute walk by the lake. It did the trick. Debloated me. Cleared my head. Got me to stop and actually think about food in a healthy way for the first time in a goddamn week. I realised I was completely stuffed. I didn’t need anything else for dinner. I was done.

That goes for tomorrow too, and the next day, and the next… I just can’t look at another chocolate, or truffle, or oh-so sweet shortbread. I’ll be sick. I miss feeling healthy! I miss being The Healthy One. Being The Girl Who Can Eat just doesn’t seem fun anymore. I felt so at home tonight… not stuffing my gob with my parents’ Lindt choccies, but in my singlet and running shorts as I powerwalked up a storm around the insect-infested lake. My god, I don’t know what time has done to me, but I tell you what – I love it.

So, I’m sitting here, reflecting on my Very Merry Christmas… I had such a good day. The family laughed, swapped stories, drank and ate, played and generally got our festivities on. I’m glad my day didn’t revolve around Fat Fighting and sticking to Core foods. I’m glad my week hasn’t. I’ve partied hard this week and drunk more than I have in nine months. But I’m glad the week is over. In my mind, my new week starts tomorrow, because I’ve worked too damn hard to let myself swell up like a goddamn pufferfish during bikini season.

 Sweet dreams, dear Fat Fighters. I hope everyone’s favourite Fat Man left you lots of presents – I was royally spoilt. Love to you all,

Mrs. Cores (geddit?). (OK, it’s late. Whatevs.)

PS: Now, I suggest you do yourself a big favour and listen to Celine Dion’s Christmas album “These Are Special Times” while rereading this blog. It’ll really set the scene for Christmas Day in Booti land. We had that freakin’ CD on repeat for two thirds of the day. “Ave Maria” is now a dear favourite. Celine, what can I say? Girl, you know how to spread the joy… but your skinny ass doesn’t stop a Fat Fighter from diving head-first into a bowl full of pudding, custard (two types) and cream. Deee-lish.

Merry Christmas!

xxx

PS: Stay tuned for Part 2 of my ‘How to” series – How to eat and drink so much you nearly soil yourself in a restaurant – winner. Or not…

Freudian slip (smack bam into a Vienetta)

Me at 4.11pm, waiting in (not-so-secret) anticipation for my boss’ birthday cake to arrive.

 “It’s Cake O’Clock! It’s Cake O’Cock!”

Cake O’Cock. If only time could standstill at Cake O’Cock…

Compliment of the Day

“Fark me! You’re tiny! Fark, you’re looking as fit as a picnic lunch!”

 Allllllrighty then.

Nice words, but damn them. Now I feel like going on a picnic (and smashing another block of rocky road chocolate :P).

The Fat Fighters Chronicles Part 33

Fancy a quickie?

Yeah? Well, that’s all you’re going to get ‘cos it’s 1.07am and my eyes are hanging out of my head.

Success tonight at FF after my 2nd week of RAID – lost another 300g. Total lost in two weeks of RAID – 1.7kg, putting me at a lovely (and feeling super-healthy) 61.3kg. I haven’t been exercising though, so I think I am just losing muscle and softening up a little. Hehe, oh well! ‘Tis the season for getting all fat and jolly, yes?

Needless to say, I celebrated the end of RAID in style – a Lindt choccie ball, two scoops of gelato (if anyone gets the chance, do try Bacio – chocolate with hazelnuts… I blew my load 10 times walking down King St it was so amazing), Pick’n’Mix lollies, sausages in bread, peanut butter and honey on toast, lollies… oh yes, good good times.

I don’t face The Scales until Jan 8 now which gives me plenty of time to fatten up and trim down over the festive season. Right now, all I can think about is family, friends, macking on my boy, wine time, seafood, beach, boy, macking on my boy on the beach, cracking out the ‘kini, chomping on some delicious food, evening walks, sunbaking… macking on my boy. You get the general gist.

PS: I am pleased to announce that JT and I have a Fairy-Shagmother (aka Babs) looking over us – we have been given the double bed for an upcoming trip up the coast because we don’t get to see each other/live in different cities. Happy happy joy joy. Today was particularly hard. Between filthy emails, naughty texts and my imagination, I was in a constant state. I’m surprised I didn’t molest that one poor lil’ Lindt choccie ball (a present from a darling co-worker, who also bought me a fresh date “in case I didn’t want the chocolate”… I ate both) earlier. I’ve finally mastered the difference between thirsty and hungry… hungry and horny seem to have crossed over though. Food and sex… two fabulous things that should be combined. I don’t smoke, so that’s a big no-no, but I do find myself craving a lil’ something sweet post-lovin’, and I’m not talking spooning (although, that too). I’m talking a whopping block of chocolate… fruit and nut, usually. Sprite Zeros may have to cut it. If I have a block of chocolate (haha) for every time I plan on having my way with my certain someone upon our reunion, I’ll be a waddling replica of Big Momma. At a time when I’m feeling my most attractive and desirable, I can’t ruin it by giving into the shag-tastic snacks!

PPS: I’ll try to squeeze some serious blogging in before the 28th, as I will be MIA from the 29th until the 3rd. What’s an Internet blogger to do?!

I’m such a (domestic) goddess

I am proud of myself today because:

– I went for a 45 minute walk
– I did the groceries and stocked up on fruit (already have the vegie sitch covered) and new cleaning products
– I vacuumed the whole apartment
– I did a load of washing
– I cooked up a scrumptious lunch (chicken mince, tomato pasta sauce, chilli, zucchini, champignons, served over wholemeal spaghetti, and a bowl of salad)
–  I cleaned the bathroom
– I cooked up a scrumptious dinner (herb and garlic kangaroo steak, one poached egg, corn on the cob and steamed carrot, broccoli and beans)
– I washed my hair
– I have downloaded new songs (OK, ‘new’ may be pushing it… but songs nonetheless)

 Christ almighty. What a day. No wonder I am freakin’ exhausted.

Only two more days of RAID to go. I feel FANTASTIC!

Facing a big week… four more working days, catch-up with old high school bestie, packing for hometime… oh, it’s all happening, folks.

Hungry eyes

What were you doing at 3.49pm today? Shopping, seeing friends, enjoying an afternoon bevvie, nursing a hangover on the couch? For me, finishing up some loose Chrissie shopping ends, smashing a small bottle of Sprite Zero and taking in those gimme-a-hot-mediterranean-tan-in-time-for-Santa’s-arrival rays.

But as I weaved my way through the mini maze that is Chippendale, what did I hear? Moans. Long, short, high, deep, loud, quiet MOANS. Lucky lucky lucky. Train of thought as follows:

Lucky bitch.
Drink up – it’ll stop you eating.
Eating.
Am I hungry?
She’s hungry.
Not for food.
Lucky bitch.
Drink up.
I’m bored.
Or am I hungry?
No, bored and horny.
Hungry.
Hungry for JT.
Hungry Jack’s.
Hungry Eyes.

This then launched itself into a 10-min walk humming fest of Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen all the way from the Broadway shops.

I will leave you with these lyrics:

With these hungry eyes
One look at you and I cant disguise
Ive got hungry eyes
I feel the magic between you and I

PS: Remember this as the old Hungry Jack’s theme? That sizzling burger and fries on the ad used to make me cream. Thank the lord a grease injection that big nearly topples me over these days. Yuck. (I must say, my homemade steak burger today was a delight, uber-tender).

Fight night: Booti vs. Shakira

Confession: I have spent the last 20 mins gyrating, rolling and shimmying my half-wogalicious self around my bedroom, Shakira-style. Yes, bellydancing. Let me paint the full picture:

Me.
Black sports bra.
Wild curly dark brown hair.
A jingly-jangly short mauve bellydancing skirt.

Further confession: I was bellydancing to the High School Musical 2 soundtrack. I am officially the worst wog EVER.

PS: My tummy looks kinda cool… I should really give bellydancing class another whirl.

Sobfest 2007: Celine Dion, long-distance blues and High School Musical 2

If someone was to judge the daggiest (and by daggiest, I mean godawful shittest/most loserish) Friday night to ever exist, tonight’s evening could take the cake (and by cake, I mean a big filthy marble choccie one – hello, 16 points :P).

It started off innocently enough. A quick detour past my favourite place in Chippendale – BiLo. One of my regular checkout ladies served me. We chatted about kangaroo. Then I grossed her out with your typical “I-ate-raw-horse-in-Japan-style” conversation. I’m pretty sure she was gagging, but I was too excited about frying up Skippy for dinner I didn’t notice (seriously, I know I talk it up, but the BiLo herb and garlic steaks are delicious… melt-in-your-mouth type stuff, folks).

Things headed slightly off track once I stepped through the door, circa 7pm. DVD time while I prepare dinner. The usual. High School Musical 2. I’m a woman obsessed. I don’t know whether it’s Zac Efron’s flamboyantly gay “Bet On It” solo on the golf course, or the synchronised dance moves on the baseball field, but the entire HSM2 cast has myself (not to mention a handful of wont-mention-any-names peeps from work in daily fits of excitement).

Dinner – success. Absolutely fantastic. Marinated kangaroo steak, microwaved potato with cottage cheese and salsa, corn on the cob, and steamed broccoli, carrot and beans.

Dessert – tinned peaches, strawberries with a few dollops of diet vanilla yoghurt.

Then, things headed downhill. A few strange texts, a few unanswered calls followed, then I popped a DVD in: The Last Kiss, starring one of my dream nerd boyfriends, Zac Braff. He was a douchebag in it. I mean, he had a few laugh-out-loud moments, but most of the time I wanted to beat him over the head with a stale breadstick. Halfway through the movie, I realised I had entered dangerous territory: I was watching a movie about effed-up relationships while feeling desperately alone on a Friday night, while my darling JT was nowhere to be seen. Only (only – ha!) three hours away… hell, the way I’m feeling, he may as well be across international waters. So, I watched Zac cheat on his pregnant girlfriend, watched another guy get his heart trodden on countless times, then watched another dude break up with the mother of his child and I lost it.

Poor JT had to listen to my stilted sobbing for a while… somehow I sucked it up and we managed a half-normal conversation. Missing someone is just horrible, really painful.

Now, I am sitting here (not even tempted to hit the fridge, pantry etc by the way – damn, I really AM in control this week) downloading Celine Dion songs. All By Myself seems to have nearly finished. Perhaps I shall have a Bridget Jones moment of my very own. No… that won’t work. For I’m not alone. He’s just not here. A few more listens of HSM2’s What Time Is It? and I should be almost ready to put my emotional ass to bed.

PS: How did this happen? I spent the day in randy bliss. The mere mention of words and phrases like ‘hard’, ‘want some?’ and ‘wet’ nearly sent me over the edge in meeting rooms, at my desk, in an elevator… yet here I am, a sappy girl with nothing on her mind but a boy who is too faraway.

PS: So happy…

Just bragging now, but I am still so chuffed about the 1.4kg loss this week. Glowing.

Am doing another raid this week. Same one as last week – it wraps up next Tuesday night – last FF meeting for the year. The two weeks to follow that will be near impossible to Raid (although I plan to Raid-it-up for a week after my two-week holiday).

So… to refresh:

Core food only + 21 points of non-Core food (for the week)
2 fruit and 5 vegies (min) every day
45 mins of continuous exercise every day (not incidental)
No alcohol
No sugar (food with sugar in the top three ingredients)
Pay extra attention to hunger signals
Drink 2L of water every day

I am planning a quiet weekend – I am absolutely shagged – so will hit the kitchen (Nigella, seriously, would you just rack off and make some space for the new brunette on the block?!).

Noight noight. G x