Smells like… HEALTHY!

The beginning of a new year is a funny time. People are questioning their lives, their lover/s, their work, their homes… and more often than not – their health and appearance. The new year is a fantastic boot up the bum for people to take a long hard look at themselves and what they want to change for the better.

For example, upon my afternoon walk home from the daily grind, I noted a few items popping up every few seconds or so. Runners. Stretchy pants. iPods. Gym gear. Fullpiece swimmer tans. Bicycles. A similar thing happened while I was at work. I found myself in the kitchen (ogling everyone’s food as per usual… I love stealing ideas!) with a bunch of salad eaters. Quite a far cry from when I started this little adventure a good 10 months ago. People impatiently waited their turn to chop, slice and dice salads, or squash their tuna on their multigrain toast, or heat up their wholemeal pasta (OK, that was me)… and as they chit-chatted, I smiled on the inside. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t the only one who gave a toss if the rice was brown, or the salad came without dressing, or the skin was cut off the meat.

There was a chocolate waiting for me on my desk today (may I add – a Ferrero – an old fave). I gave it away pronto – didn’t even crave it because I’d had a whopper of a brekkie and was still on a Billy Blanks high. I heard someone else cry out later “Oooh, why do I get two?” only to discover I wasn’t the only one passing on the sugar. Others are with me in their quest for a healthy body. My attitude has changed this year. It’s not about losing weight anymore. It’s about being healthy and fit. There’s a BIG PHAT DIFFERENCE.

I’m going to soak up the healthy vibes in the office for as long as I can because come winter it’s a whole different ballgame. But until then – 2008 is currently Health-fest and I’m loving it!

He’s doing it, doing it, doing it WELL!

A boy inspired me today.
A boy who, back in the day, used to accompany me to greasevilles like Burgerlicious, Star Bar and the pub for a sneaky wine.
A boy who is getting healthy, trim and taunt before my very eyes and – this is what hurts me – isn’t finding it hard.

I am impressed.

If you scan your beady little eyes over my earliest posts in The Journey So Far or even cast over some of the entries from the past six weeks, you will see I learn everything the hard way. Making the choice to be a healthy hottie over HEAVY heffa has been hard (get those Hs up ya!). I’ve binged, I’ve cried, I’ve beaten myself up, I’ve lost weight quickly, I’ve lost weight slowly. I honestly feel like I’ve done it all in the past 10 months.

But this boy, two months into his journey, is sailing through. He disappears when cake is served. He orders salad and lentil dishes while his mates gorge themselves sick. He hasn’t had chocolate in two months (GASP!). The best bit (for him): he isn’t craving crap. At all. I pumped him with questions this morning about his demon foods. He claims to have none anymore. When I first started FF I had a list of about 12 things I considered demon foods: chocolate, chips, pizza, cheese, biscuits, ice-cream… to name a few sugary/fatty menaces. Now I’ve realised the only real threat is chocolate. I can say no to the others easily. Let me repeat: he isn’t craving crap. AT ALL. Most of the time I don’t. Most of the time I’m an up-on-my-high-horse ambassador for eating well. But I have my limits.

To have him look me in the eye and tell me he is finding this easy… sigh.

I’ve gotta hand it to the boy.

He’s the George Clooney of Fat Fighting – suave, laid-back, casual about the ordeal.

Me? I’m the Nanny Fine of the FF World – whinging, cackling and causing a scene in every grocery aisle, restaurant and kitchen I frequent.

Booti = The Next Marjorie Dawes?

Last night’s meeting was a corker.

I was there for a solid 10 mins. I walked in, weighed-in (up 700 grams, not too bad considering my past two weeks), then got POUNCED ON (score!). Sadly for me, my pouncer was my Team Leader, Lisa, and not Jake Gyllenhaal dripping in melted chocolate. Anyway, she asked me two things, both as interesting and motivating as the other:

“Will you enter in the 5-15kg 2008 Slimmer of the Year comp?”
Errrrrm, hells yeah. The prizes are swish, the acknowledgement for Fat Fighting effort is fantastic, but even more than that – it gives me something to work towards. I don’t care if I don’t win, but I’m going to work my sweet tushi off so I can enter saying I have lost 11kg. This means I have 3.5kg to lose and maintain by May when the entries close. I spent a large portion of last night searching through My Pictures and gagging at old photos to use as my before photos. I’ve narrowed it down to one of me looking absolutely hideous (squinting and all chubbed-up on the phone) or one of me (drunk) at a Hen’s night (cuddling a stripper) with the biggest canteen lady arms ever. Shame about the stripper in the pic… may need someone to photoshop some clothes onto the sweaty nudist. Anyway, I’ve definitely got some nasty choices!

Which brings me to the second topic…

“Would you be interested in being a Team Leader?”
YES! Instead I jabbered: Maybe, well… I’ll think about it, errr, not really sure… what does it involve?
True gut feeling? Yes, yes, 1000 times, yes!
I handed over my details and now I have to wait to see if I get a call to complete some training. Just think. Booti manning a FF group. Scary thought. I can make like Marjorie Dawes from Little Britain and guzzle cake behind a screen. Perfecto!
The truth is… I would love it because I live and breathe FF. I want to talk about healthy food, I want to talk about exercise. I want to ask questions, I want people to ask me questions, I want to learn more. I want to be around people who want to talk about food and exercise. Enter: FF meeting. Sigh. A watched mobile never rings. I shall be patient.

The relaxing continues…

Sitting here in (vanilla) candlelight.

About to indulge in a fruitilicious hot shower.

Will slip between fresh sheets.

Bury myself in The Toyboy Diaries – Sexploits of an Older Woman.

Long weekends.

Gotta love ’em.

(Beach tomorrow!)

Little Miss Happy Hermit

I’ve taken it down a notch this weekend. Stepping away from the chaos of Australia Day boozing and partying, I have made this weekend about something different: relaxing and getting back some order. While others played with their friends and stumbled down Cleveland St yesterday evening, I jogged along, my mind planning the remainder of the no-fuss evening. Steak, soba noodles and stirfried vegies for dinner; a luxurious shower; slipping on a satin nightie; talking to JT; lighting some vanilla candles; indulging in some reading.

It was better than I planned. (I have a horrible habit of sub-conciously forming expectations for events – I’ve tried to stop it, but it’s hard… I seem to lack that carefree particle that lets you go with the flow 100 percent. Yes, I drive myself crazy.)

It was… delicious. I felt calm. I felt light. I felt in control. I felt happy. I felt CLEAN.

I went for an 11km walk/jog today then came home for a delicious smoothie and two slices of wholegrain toast. Healthy, much? As my feet pounded the pavement, I told myself to cling onto the feeling, the feeling of HEALTHY, the feeling of CHALLENGING YOURSELF. It’s so effing easy to slip, to skip that walk, to eat that extra chocolate, to fall off the wagon with a big fat CRASH. But I don’t want to. I want to feel as fantastic as I do right now, all the time. And I’m going to. Because I know I can.

Talk soon, Boots xx

Titter titter

Someone stumbled across my blog in big old cyberspace with the search phrase “recipes to make a fart”.

That is all.

X-treme – sooooo SPLASHED!

Apparently I’m a girl of extremes.

In my world, a birthday doesn’t last for a day. It lasts for a week.

You don’t have one piece of cake. You have as many as you can.

Last night I crossed my line at the restaurant Splash. I’ve been ON the line since Saturday night, getting mini tummy-aches and MAJOR chocolate headaches from my food adventures and lack of exercise (not to mention lack of vegetables). I stepped over the line in too many ways last night. My body freaked out, I freaked out, and I took the day off.

My poor editor, lets call her Miss W, received the following text around 7am this morning:

“Hi, I don’t know if it was the seafood, the chocolate or the alcohol (or all!), but I have been getting sick in all ways poss since 1.30am. Gross. I just can’t come in today. I’m sorry!”

Sadly, and embarrassly, it’s true. I woke up in a hot sweat around 1am, clutching my tummy, my eyes bloodshoot, an inch of sweat covering my body.

My stomach is still churning today. I’ve eaten – I’ve eaten a lot today – but I’ve stuck to Core foods. Fruit. Vegies. Couscous. Kangabangas. Toast. Cereal. My stomach was churning through a lot of it, I was just determined to get some nice’n’healthy things pumping through the system again.

I want to enter Slimmer of the Year (in the 5-15kg loss category, don’t freak out) – even if it just gets me back on track a little. The thing I battle with the hardest is moderation. The more I think about, the more I realise it’s been an ongoing fight. Even as a little (skinny minny) girl, one ice-cream or biscuit was never enough. I’d want the packet. The fact is, the more you have something, the more you want it (and don’t I know that). The weeks where I have RAID’d and stopped scoffing sugary shit are the weeks when I have felt the most fantastic. My skin was better. My tummy wasn’t bloated. I didn’t have headaches. I slept well.

Farrrk, just spelling it out like that shows me how much I can’t wait to just do this properly. January has been a crazy time, always is. Don’t even ask me about January 2007, this year pales in comparison. But it’s over. I’ve had it. I’ve had a filthy binge for the last time. As Katerina Ballerina told me today, “Wow, sounds crazy! I bet you’re happy to be a lettuce muncher again after that night!” Damn straight.

I said farewell to Darrell Lea yesterday. I said sayonara to chocolate fondue. I said FARRRRK OFF to piddly little Easter eggs. I said PISS OFF to garlic bread. I said a million goodbyes and I feel fantastic.

HELLO, HEALTHY BOOTI!

Randy to the MAX

Yep, it’s official. Chocolate makes me horny. Max Brenner, you little bastard, you did things to me tonight that shouldn’t be legal.

I had to (I repeat: HAD TO) drink beer and eat hot chips afterwards JUST to rid myself of those oh-god-I-must-have-JT feelings.

Considering one little chocolate sends shivers down my spine, don’t make me spell out what two slices of chocolate cake, and a filthy trip down Max Brenner lane (waffles, choc dipping pot, strawberries and ice-cream) does to a girl. Quivering-thighs-type stuff.

Booti, it’s your birthday, Happy Birthday, Booti!

Woo! It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to!

Fingers crossed it won’t come to that… but it’s my birthday today – woo woo woo!

Ahhhh, and what a yummy, fun-filled day awaits. Am being taken out to lunch by ze lovely peeps at work (spoilt much?), will whore myself over some arvo birthday cake, then am going to my mecca. The place I have been wanting to go to for the past year. I’ve been there once, and it was glorious, to say the least. Max Brenner. The chocolate bald man. My lover. My genius. The man who knows the way to my heart and more. I nearly peaked the other day at work just reading the menu. Words like “melted chocolate chunks”, “peanut butter”, “chocolate-dipped”, “hazelnut” and “banana” jumped out at me, causing my heart (and lower region) to flutter.

Max knows the effect of the stuff. Check out some of his sayings on his website:

“Chocolate is not just about taste” – DAMN STRAIGHT. It’s about smell, texture, a feeling. Oh lordy, chocolate.

“Yummy, stop it, Max, this is already too much!” – it’s like he read my mind…

“Are you a chocoholic having a sugar rush?” – always.

“Max I Scream” – Max, honey, I’m screaming out for you right now.

AND MY ALL-TIME FAVOURITE…

“[Our] chocolate should be savoured with all senses. Listen to the most romantic music, then watch it like a child’s fantasy that turns into reality, smell it like the rarest of perfumes, dip your fingers into it and lick it slowly and passionately. Make love to it. Enjoy it to the MAX.”

Anyone else just soil themselves in excitement?! Just me? Moving on…

PS: Besides ranting and raving (aka BLOGGING) about chocolate and food, I am just so happy it’s my birthday (week). I had a wonderful early birthday weekend with my boy, JT, had a deliciously fun catch-up with a friend last night (she spoilt me rotten with pressies including SUPER-SEXY RED LACY KNICKERS – WOO WOO WOO!), have a yummy day ahead with the work crew, and a chocoholic night ahead with my fellow wogalicious chocoholic pretend daughter and son, Katerina Ballerina and Greek Pete. Tomorrow proves to be seafood-tastic as a group of us hit up Newtown’s finest for a massive meal…. yep, I love to stretch out the celebrations. Sad part is I won’t see Mama or Papa Booti for yonks (yes, I did just use that word), but I will see Mini Booti and her other half on Friday night, so that’s exciting…

Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.

Did anyone ELSE soil themselves in excitement?! Still just me?

Mrs Brenner, out.

xxx

Ass prodding of a lifetime

I have been feeling a little odd today. A little stressed, if you will.

Eating chocolate hasn’t helped. Nor has eating chips.

But my midday massage helped… at least for an hour before ze butterflies fluttered back into my life. This guy was such a master with his palms, I almost wondered if I’d stumbled into more than a massage joint. I bit my lip as he thumped my back, yelping as he rubbed his hands all over me. Then he hit up the booti. BIG-TIME. He rubbed. He kneaded. He rolled. He poked. He prodded. He pinched (kidding!). He rubbed some more. I bit my lip again – but this time to hold in the laughter. My whole body was shaking so much, I was worried I was going to vibrate myself off the table!

This dude loved kneading so much, he missed his calling as a baker.