The truth of it is, is that last year at this point in the game I was 59kgs and 14.9% body fat. Last friday I came in at 62.2kgs and 18.4%. Freak out much!!! On the flip side however, I had lost 1.6kg from the monday to the friday~ so it's all happening. Just not at the rate it did last year. I haven't weighed in this week yet. I just think I'll loose my shit if I haven't lost anything. I am going to see Kylie next week to get her opinion, though. I'm nervous. I've put as much into these last four weeks as I put into the entire 16 weeks last year. I will be spewing~ SPEWING if she takes one look and says to shelve it for 6 months.
Last week was a bizaar series of HI/LOWS. I'm familiar with a lot of the faces at my gym now. It's nice to be able to say 'Hi' and give a smile. As much as I love it~ training is painful. I grunt a lot. A smile and a nod go a long way in brightening my day. So I thought it was pretty nice when one of the guys said hi to me in between sets. I'm not going to lie. He and his mate shit me a bit. Talking endlessly while draped over exactly the piece of equipment I want to use....checking themselves out in the mirror....However I'm a sucker for flattery and even though I'm not a massive fan (women who love shoes and understand the importance of being able to rock out a killer pair of knee~high boots will get me on this) I know I inflict a tonne of 'calf envy' on most dudes. So it came as no surprise that he said, "Can I just say~ you have amazing calves. As a guy I'm always trying to build them, they're my thing." Thank you, I say. I'd like to say I train them, but it's freaky genetics. He says, " I love them on girls, amazing...they're my thing." Well, that's nice of you to say, I say. It could have ended there....it should have ended there. Unfortunately, he leant in and whispered intensely, "Fucking LOVE them". Cue nervous laughter and quick side step away from me ~ him obviously horrified at his verbal diahorrea, whining...."Ahhhhh~ I'm gonna stop talking now...".
Don't worry, if I was ever in danger of getting a big head, there is another guy at the gym who likes to keep it real for me. This is the guy who walked up to me when I was about a month out of comp and probably should have been on suicide watch (how well I was coping to my ever expanding physique) looked me up and down and said, "Not in comp mode any more I see". GUTTED. Saturday he says," Here she is! Trimming down nicely. Yeah, you were getting quite overweight there for a bit." DICKFACE!!!!! Even if it's true, who says that??!
Haha~ got to love the hi/lows. Another massive Hi~ I had a mole removed from my chin. You know?! That big bloody moley~mole that has plagued me since my birth has finally left the building. Slightly miffed that this momentous event has been basically met with indifference by almost everyone I know. (What mole? From my best friend of 28 years.) The Doctor said to me I may end up with a little scar. I thought it was worth it. Once, to make someone feel better about their own angry and ugly looking new scar, I said that I quite liked them. I meant it. Our scars tell our story. They remind us of our interesting lives. To make him laugh I told him about the huge scar I have underneath my chin. That scar is so big it's got three stories to it! The first time I caught the ground with my face I was four. It was my sister's first birthday and there was about a million kids at our house for her party. We lived in a huge estate house that my parents had converted into a restaurant and bar. The second level had accomodation, and the very top level was our little apartment. I slide from the very top balastrading, planning to take it the whole way down to the ground floor. Unfortunately I fell almost as soon as I started to slide and basically fell three stories. My Pa said it was quite impressive how I managed to stick to the wall almost the whole way down. Probably saved me from cracking my skull too. The next time was almost a year later at my own fifth birthday party. My parents had given me a Wonder Woman outfit and I decided to dazzle everyone with my superhuman powers. I stood on a first floor windowsill, banged my gold cuffed (therefore magical) wrists together and bellowed," WONDER WOMAN!!!" before taking a flying leap before my guests (terrified) eyes. Needless to say the suit was hidden in the back of the cupboard and I was made to promise I would never, never attempt to fly again. The third time warms me to my bones. Whenever I think of this I am reminded that I have always been doing stupid things to try and get the attention of handsome boys. I was eight and desperate to impress my first real crush (Monkey Magic doesn't count) Zane Love. How could you not swoon for a boy called Zane Love? Swinging upside down on the monkey bars I screeched, "Hay Zane~ look at me!" In my mind I was going to execute the perfect backflip with pike landing. (I dunno~ I think the Olympics were on that year.) In reality~ with all the gracefulness of an Ox I belly~up'ed aaaaaand......caught the ground with my face.
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