The lovely M has a blog game thingy going on where she gives you a letter and you come up with ten words starting with that letter that somehow pertain to your life. Here is my lacklustre attempt at the letter T!

Total rest is what the physio ordered this week, since the knee hadn’t improved. No bike, no Spin, no Pilates, no Everest attempts – no freaking exercise at all. (Updated to clarify: This is rest for the upper body too as the shoulder/back are still problematic, see my comment below. The only thing I am doing is certain kinds of ab exercises and of course the physio exercises.)

For the past five-and-a-bit years I have spent all my energies trying to motivate myself to move my flabby arse, but I have to find the motivation not to move. It’s been complete and utter…

Torture! There was a time when I’d have done anything to avoid exercise. I’d long for broken legs or measles or rabies – anything to keep me out of PE class. I’ve finally got my note from the doctor and now I don’t want it. I feel so flabby and blah. But I will be good and rest properly, because I have a fear of…

Theatres. Operating theatres, that is. If my knee doesn’t heal soon I may need an arthroscopy. It is a routine procedure, but that doesn’t mean I won’t freak out. I don’t want a camera poking round in my joints, thanks very much.

Three is the number of days left in May, which means I have three days in which to finish the draft 2001 chunk of my stinking book. I am slightly behind schedule.

Time-wasting is what I am doing by writing this entry instead of writing those chapters.

Thirteen thousand words of shite is what I have so far. It stinks. Can you smell if from where you are? Let us pray that it will all scrub up at the editing stage.

Tea is a beverage I like to drink. Especially when paired with scones and jam and cream.

Tea is also another word for dinner, and tonight I’ll be cooking Melissa’s droolworthy Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Spicy Feta-Olive Salad.

Triceps are my favourite body part to exercise when doing weights. I like tricep kickbacks and barbell extensions, but cannot do tricep push-ups for love or money.

Two kilograms is the amount of Yeo Valley Natural Yogurt crammed into our fridge right now, since I accidentally clicked on four 500g tubs when placing our online grocery order, instead of the usual four wee 150g tubs. Anyone for smoothies?

Righto, old chaps. I better skdaddle. Hope you are all well!

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Hello comrades! I’m back from Amsterdam. Things didn’t turn out so well Radiohead-wise, but it’s a lovely town and we had a great time and I didn’t eat too badly. Ha!

My problem has been more about the days before and the days after. All this stupid knee/shoulder pain, and feeling frustrated and translating that into too many pieces of cheese on toast. But I was back on track today. No more wallowing.

. . .

This month is designated 2001 Month for The Book. I’m giving myself a month to write each year, if that makes sense. 2001 is proving to be a real bitch. I’ve got my notes and my outline and I’ve poured over the archives so many times, but I’m still struggling. It’s taken me two weeks to figure out why – I just don’t recognise myself.

I always downplay how much this Lard Busting Journey has changed me. I fear sounding like an egotistical wanker, and I don’t want people thinking I’ve done anything particularly special or difficult. People ask me How I Did It and I’ll say I just ate right and exercised. For five years.

But reading back, I was a completely different person in 2001 and it’s hard to relate to her. Who was this chick, hiding from the world, afraid to go to the pub with friends, exhausted by a walk around the block? Don’t get me wrong, I empathise with her, I want to hug her and sometimes kick her arse — but it’s so hard to believe that was actually me.

Back in the day I used to wander up and down the aisles at the supermarket in tears, wondering if I’d ever climb out of my black hole. Then I’d stop by the freezer and pick up a 4-litre tub of Home Brand Vanilla Ice Cream. No expense spared! I’d eat the whole lot it in front of the telly over the next few days, just plain or sometimes drizzled with passionfruit cordial. Cordial makes a great sauce on the cheap, don’t you know.

And then last week in the depths of my injury-related self-pity, I was cruising the freezer aisle again. I debated for ages over whether or not to buy a Marks & Spencer Exotic Fruit Split, a single serve ice cream with just 100 calories. Tastes like passionfruit!

So I still like my comfort food in the same flavours. Not everything has changed. But at least the portion sizes are different!

Y’know, I’m always bitching about how I’m taking so long to lose this blubber, but if it had happened any quicker my head would probably just explode from the enormity of it all.

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Hello dearests!

A day of rest seems to have helped the ol’ arm a tiny wee bit. I was such a miserable bastard on Saturday. Being physically unable to write was utterly depressing. I didn’t realise how much I depended on it as my outlet. I had things to say! I had Book Stuff to do! And since even old fashioned pen and paper were painful, I started to panic thinking I’ll never get this stinking project done and I’ll never accomplish anything and never be more than the typer of someone else’s letters. Oh comrades, it was a truly wild pity party.

I was convinced chocolate would make me better, but luckily we didn’t have any. Instead I had a wee homemade jam biscuit and spent the weekend being a hermit with the Scottish Companion, watching Northern Exposure Season 4 episodes and the most thrilling MotoGP race ever. I also ventured into the Real World twice to go to the gym.

I’m seeking medical advice on Wednesday. Woohoo…

. . .

The tedious trudge to the Finish Line continues. The scales are showing unpleasing numbers this week. You know what? Screw the scale. I know it’s evil. It’s just that I have this desire to officially reach a healthy weight/BMI. Don’t write and tell me I am obsessed, just please try and understand that I am really anally retentive and I’ve always been a huge nerd for numbers and statistics. I know that the journey doesn’t end at goal, but please just understand that after working on this lard busting project for over Five Long Years, there has to be a proper conclusion.

And not even being too fussy about the numbers. I’m only wanting to reach THE TOP of my healthy weight range for closure’s sake. After that I will just simply continue living the same healthy lifestyle I am now, and the numbers can settle wherever they bloody feel like. I want to tie this up this part of the process in a neat little package.

It’s a good thing I employ so many non-scale methods of measuring progress. There’s no way I’d have lost all this lard if it had only been about the scale. I set myself challenges. I have all manner of spreadsheets. I have plenty of variety and balance. But at this point I must focus even more on the non-scale stuff. I will pretend the scale isn’t an issue and get busy making a healthy life even healthier. The numbers will budge when they’re good and ready.

Here’s a few of my current dorky challenges:

• To beat my slowass rowing machine speed record (currently 2km in 10:15)
• Resume Operation Push-Up (I’d graduated from 0.5 to 2 proper full push-ups before my shoulder died. WOW!)
• Master the stability ball segment of Cathe CoreMax (currently can’t do it without falling off and crashing into the telly!)
• Learn to ride a BIKE.

Oh people! I bought a bike on Friday! It will be ready this coming Saturday. I have invested a nice chunk of funds into a piece of machinery that I don’t know how to operate. Holy crap! But I have done other things before that scared the crap out of me and I survived so let’s bring on one more. Variety is the spice of life.

Anyway as you can see I have plenty of stuff to do rather than faff about with the scales. I’d best get on with it then. Hope you’re all well

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