Unnaturally Perky and Upright


A young Australian woman was astounded to find today that her breasts actually stick out further than her stomach.

The woman, who would only be identified as "Dietgirl", discovered this phenomenon when checking out her own reflection in a shop window.

"It was in the post office," said Miss Dietgirl. "I got the shock of my life when I caught a glimpse of myself and there they were, just sitting up like that, as if they were their own entity."

Miss Dietgirl says previously there was no distinction between her breasts and "the colossal spare tyres" of her hips and waist.

"It’s been at least 6 years since there was some discernable shape about me," she said. "The stomach was always protruding further than the breasts. I am finally starting to feel like less of a shapeless blob and more like a normal, albeit still chunky, woman. I can’t tell you how happy I am."

Cynical sources have refuted her claims, saying that Miss Dietgirl was wearing a good quality bra that hoisted up her bosoms, thus creating the illusion that they were "unnaturally perky and upright" .

"She also was probably sucking her tummy in," they added.

Yesterday I spent an hour soaking in the bath BECAUSE I CAN. Six months ago I just could not get in that thing. I would have had to get a big crane to extract me from its enamel clutches.

It felt so good, to just lay there and soak and read a magazine and be totally self indulgent. I rolled over a few times. I kicked my legs around. I sat there stroking and poking my arms and cooing to them, "Ooh you’re getting so nice and firm now! Aren’t you! Aren’t you just!"

I got out the ol’ exfoliating scrub and polished myself from head to toe. Then when I finally got out, I slathered myself in moisturiser. I stood in front of the mirror and practiced various yoga poses and examined my calves and my butt and my waist and concluded that on the whole, things were getting smaller, slowly but surely.

Then it occurred to me that I was actually standing there, looking at my naked body, and I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t clenching my fists with anger, I wasn’t literally hitting myself or trying to smash the mirror. That’s what I used to do just seven months ago.

I know I say this a lot but I feel like I wasted soooo much time hating my body, hating myself. I wouldn’t go out, I wouldn’t answer the phone, I would pretend I wasn’t at home if friends came round, all because I was too ashamed of myself to be seen. This went on for years and years of my life.

I’m not even halfway to my goal but already I feel so completely new. I’m not hiding anymore. Sure, to most people I am still A Big Fat Mama, but who the fuck cares what they think? Those people are morons and they will never change. You can’t worry about what other people think of you. The only person you have to impress is YOURSELF.

And hot damn, I impressed myself last night. The scales WENT DOWN, baby! We had to move the BIG THINGY on the scale DOWN! I lost 1.3 kilos (3lb) and now I am only 0.6 kilos (1.5 lb) from the big 40 KILOS GONE!

I was so surprised and so fucking happy that I had to race over to the WW leader and tell her and she was over the moon, she had tears in her eyes and everything. "I can’t believe how far you’ve come" she says.

"Yeah but I’m not there yet," I said.

"So what? Look at what you’ve done! You should be proud! I know I’m proud."


"You never stay for the meetings. Can’t you stay next week? I want to tell everyone about you. You’ll be inspiring!"

"But I still have heaps more to lose! I don’t look any different!"

"It doesn’t matter! It’s all about the journey, y’know?"

Yeah, whatever, I thought.

Later that night I was laying in bed trying to think about how far I’ve come and how I tend to downplay my achievements. Why do I do this?

  1. Because I don’t want people (ie. you lovely Dietgirl readers, people at WW, my family) to think that I am an egomaniac.
  2. Because I’m scared if I start sharing my success, it will just stop happening. I’ll jinx it somehow.

So I had a little chat with myself…

"You’re doing good, you know that don’t you?"

"Yeah I guess. I feel like I’ve been lucky lately though. When’s the luck gonna run out?"

"It’s not luck, you idiot. You’ve been gymming and eating good and being kind to yourself. It’s hard work you know."

"Yes. Hmmm. I suppose you’re right! I am doing good."

"But you have to keep doing that."

"Oh I will. Don’t you worry."

"Hey, are you smiling? You are! I saw it!"

"I know! What can I say? I kick ass!"

"And is that a tear I see? You’re crying!"

"I know! I can’t help it! I’m so happy!"

"Me too!"

"Isn’t this great?"

"It is great! Hey, did you fart?"

"No! I did not fart. It must have been you!"

"But I AM you, you silly bitch!"

"Shut up and leave me alone, you smelly cow!"


Try talking to yourself now and then. It really helps. You can have no better ally than your own brain.

Bacon Rocks My World




Hehe. Well kiddies, I’ve had a shocking couple of days, eating wise, but I’m sure I’ll bounce back. No really, I will. In the past four weeks I lost 4.8 kilos so (11lb) so I’ve had a good run.

Yesterday I forgot my lunch, so I went to the little shop behind my work and got a chicken wrap. It’s a piece of lavash bread with chicken, salad, sour cream, onion, cheese and chili sauce on it. I skipped the onion (don’t want to kill people with my breath) and skipped the sour cream (very fatty) and observed the salad was nice and fresh and when they toasted the bread, there was no grease or anything used. So apart from the cheese, not too bad really. But what I didn’t notice til I was eating was that the chicken used was BBQ chicken, sure it was skinless and the breast meat, but there was a nice little puddle of oil at the bottom of the wrapper when I was done. Not overly bad but much fattier than I am used to, and I just felt clogged up and yuck afterwards. This just goes to show you: PLANNING is the key! If I’d had my perfectly healthy lunch with me I would have just eaten it and felt great and saved myself $5.30!

And so on to dinner last night, it was a friend’s birthday (the one who’s into weight training) and we went to this lovely resteraunt. EVERYTHING on the menu said "EAT ME". I am usually the kind of person who struggles to find something I like. I ended up chosing a wood-fired pizza, it had the normal tomato base, but the topping! Oh! The sweetest pumpkin, cashews, basil pesto, baby spinach and boccocini (sp?) cheese. AND IT WAS SOOOOO GOOD! Oh god it was good. I have been fantasising about it all day. You have no idea.

I think in the scheme of things that the pizza was okay. But then my friend and my sister ordered bread, and it was HUGE big mama pieces of italian bread, one was garlic and one was sun-dried tomato. I really didn’t want the bread but there was so much of it, so I did end up having a slice. Ooooh it was greasy but oooh it was good.

Instead of dessert I had a skim milk hot chocolate. With marshmellows. So there.

AND THEN this morning we all met up again for breakfast! And I had the Breakfast With The Lot. Two poached eggs, oven roasted tomatoes, mushrooms, huge chunk of bread, bacon, chippolata sausages AND hollandaise sauce. Good lord it was good. I couldn’t eat it all but I made a fair inroads, I tells ya. And washed it down with another skim milk hot chocolate. With marshmellows.


Ha ha! That thought didn’t even cross my mind. Nor did I feel guilt, shame, disgust. I’ve been really really good lately, and I’ve been exercising like a mofo, and it was a special occassion, so I thought TO HELL WITH IT! I am not afraid of food anymore, it’s great stuff and it’s my special friend πŸ˜›

The difference now is, I can have a wee splurge like that, but then I just get over it. When I get home tonight I’ll take the dog for a walk and I’ll have a nice light dinner (my sis is making something called Country Chicken Cobbler). And if the scales don’t make me leap for joy on Monday, I’ll get over it.

I really can’t tell you enough people, you have to learn how to move forward from your bad days. I get emails from people saying "I screwed up and now I feel like giving up". You just can’t think like that! You have to give yourself a little pep talk, pick yourself up and start again. All you have to do is be reasonable and healthy for the majority of the time, so then when there’s a special occassion you can enjoy it without punishing yourself. It’s all about moderation!

Arrgh! I am rambling. But it’s Friday afternoon and I am hyper and dying to go home.

In other news, I am really getting through my Inbox, so please don’t be mad if I haven’t replied yet. I love you, I really do. Hee hee.

BACON! Oh the bacon was good. But I felt so greasy afterwards. This is why you only eat these things EVERYONE ONCE IN A WHILE.

And the sausages! Oh don’t get me started on those. Mmm mmm.

Are You Getting Some?

Well looks like my dream was slightly prophetic, I did have a big loss last night. Two kilos! Woohoo! That’s 4.4 pounds to you non-metric ones. I just felt really really good all week, and really motivated. When you’re in that frame of mind, you just have to go for it and eat right and exercise your arse off, and really take advantage of the positivity, because next week you may not feel so good.

A pretty pessimistic statement, I know. But really, life has ups and downs, you can’t feel euphoric all the time. That’s not to say I ever “blow my diet” when things go bad, in seven months I can honestly say I’ve never felt like I’ve “blown” anything (!!!) or “fallen off the wagon”, it’s just that some weeks you’re really busy or things happen and you can’t be has “hard core” as other weeks.

It’s hard to wrap your head around that. But you will have far more success losing weight if you stop being so fascist and fantatical about the concept of a diet, and simply tell yourself “sometimes I’ll have fantastic weeks and sometimes I’ll have so-so weeks”, rather than “OH MY BLOODY GOD I’VE BROKEN MY DIET AND IT’S ALL OVER AND I AM GOING TO EAT A BARREL OF LARD NOW!”.

Anyway. Do you know I only have 1.9 kilos (4.2lb) til I reach the amazing magical 40 kilos gone? Holy crap. I am hoping to get there by mid-September. That is my little goal. I am particularly chuffed because it means the weigh-lady will have to move the BIG THINGY on the scale down another notch. So I will have gone from the ELEPHANT FAT setting when I started, to the SUPAFAT setting, down to STILL PRETTY FAT, REALLY. It’ll be a nice progression.

Plus, when I get to the 40 kilos, Mum is taking us out to this swanky restarant that we all love. No! I hear you gasp. You can’t reward dieting success with food! Oh shut up. The hell I can’t. It’s an expensive resteraunt, and life is short, the food is good, and it tastes even better when you have something to celebrate.

So there.

My boss said to me recently, “What’s up with you?”


“What are you looking so happy for?”

“I don’t look happy. Do I?”

“Shit yeah. You’ve got this big stupid grin on your face and you’re just skipping around all the time or something.”

“Oh! I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’ve got a BOY haven’t you? You’ve got that I’VE GOT A BOY glow about you! You’re GETTING SOME, aren’t you?”

“No! I have not got a boy! And I am not getting some!”

“You have to be! Why else would you be so happy! Look! Your cheeks are all flushed and everything! You’ve got a boyyyyyyyyyyfriend! You’ve got a boyyyyyfriend!”

For the record I do not have a boyfriend and I am not Getting Some™, not unless you count a little object that goes bzzzzz bzzzzz. It’s sad that she thinks the only way I could possibly look so happy is because of someone else! If I am looking happy and glowing, it’s all my own doing. All this exercise and healthy eating has elevated my moods, for sure. But if people want to think I have some sort of hot crazy sex life, well perhaps I will just let them think that. Mwahaha.

Grunt Yourself Thin

I’ve discovered pumping iron is far more fun if you grunt and carry on like Monica Seles. You know, that lovely "urrrrrnnnnnnnurrghhhhhh!" sound she makes when she whacks the ball? I like to do that when doing my gym thang. It cracks me up, and it’s always easier to work out if you’re having a laugh. You don’t notice the glorious ache of your limbs so much. Plus it gets up the nose of the serious gym junkies, who prance around wearing tiny shorts and air of superiority, like they’ve got a ruler lodged firmly up their arse.

Just don’t grunt too loud, otherwise you’ll look like a real dickhead.

Last night I dreamed of the Weight Watchers scale. I really do look forward to my weigh-ins, unless I know I’ve had a crap week. But most Monday’s I am jittery all day, coz I am just so damn keen to get on that scale. This week I must be keener than usual, coz last night I dreamed I sprinted into the WW class (okay, more of a gallumph than a sprint) and knocked over all the people obediently waiting in line and declared that I MUST be weighed right now. I barged the weigh-lady out of the way and lined up the weight then hopped on. The bar thingy went down with a BANG, that nice decisive sound when you KNOW you’ve had a good week. So I started moving the slidey thing down to get it to balance. But then weigh-lady hopped up and started fiddling with it, and it started swaying wildly.

"DON’T TOUCH THAT SCALE, WOMAN! I CAN DO IT MYSELLLLLLLLLLF!" I was screaming. But she persisted and I woke up ranting and raving and not knowing what the hell I’d lost.

Wonder if that’s a good or bad omen for tonight? Or perhaps a subconscious memo: Miss Dietgirl, You Are Obsessing Too Much.


Silly Gym Vultures

My co-worker was absent on Monday, came in Tuesday, went home after a few hours, came in today (Wednesday) and had to leave to go to the doctor, then calls up the boss just now to say the doc gave her a certificate and she will be off for the rest of the week.

This girl is ALWAYS sick. She averages a day off every week. She's had this horrible, phlegmy, rattling cough for weeks now that makes my skin crawl. She's always pale and pasty looking. She's very thin.

She also has a family block of chocolate on her desk which serves as her breakfast and a snack thoughout the day. She drinks about four cans of Diet Coke. She has McDonalds or KFC for lunch three or four times a week. She smokes like a chimney.

It just really gets my hackles up, coz she has the nerve to say, "I dunno why I get so sick." Arrgh! And of course I have to bust my butt doing extra work in her absence.

I just never see her eat anything of any nutritional value whatsover. Even when I was eating like an insane pork back in January, I would still eat a shitload of fruit and vegetables. (Yep, slice up some fruit on top of that icecream baby, that'll out the fat, eh? :P) This girl just eats really, really badly. And the smoking doesn't help either.


Anyway, I don't want to sound preachy or smug. Fred has the smug thang pretty much covered πŸ˜› It's just the more I get into this caper, the more aware I am of these things. Fair enough if she takes bad care of herself and doesn't complain and is happy, if people want to live that way, well good for them. But when she drags her sorry self to work and moans and groans and coughs in my direction then takes heaps of days off at the company's expense, THEN it pisses me off.


I've come to the conclusion that those vultures at the gym doesn't know squat about fitness. I don't know much either, but I am paying them $500 a year (which amounts to about $2.20 in US dollars. Our dollar stinks) for the privilege of shaking my blubber at their holy domain and while I have no problem with the actual facilities, I have a problem with the staff.

I've had three fitness assessments now, and while they all coo and cheer over my progress, they won't listen to me. They are so pre-occupied with weight loss. Sure I want to lose a helluva lot more weight, but now I am more about getting fit and eating healthy, because that is how I have to behave for the rest of my life. So I say to them, I feel stronger and I need to push myself more, can you give me a decent weight training program? Back in April, Allison says, no no, no weights for you! You'll get disillusioned coz your weight will go up coz muscle weighs more than fat! Blah blah blah!

The uneducated me back then, when I had no mind of my own, when I thought that I knew nothing because I was a stupid fat girl and only OTHER PEOPLE could tell me how to transform MY body, just nodded in agreement to Allison and continued with endless cardio.

Then the other day, Fitness Chick Cathy FINALLY gave me some weights to do. I was happy. BUT she got me sitting on each bloody machine for all of 5 seconds and told me how to do each exercise, but didn't give me any advice on form or what muscles it should be working, how I should feel, etc etc. Plus all the weights she gave me were upper  body. What about my chunky legs?

So I've been reading like mad about weight training for women, all the benefits of it, suggested programs. I feel like I do a fair bit of cardio walking the dog every day, so I want to use my gym time more effectively. The most brilliant site I found via Pound is Krista's Women's Weightlifting Links n Lessons page. It's an amazing resource, completely non-commerical, just non-bullshit sound advice from a girl who's hooked on the iron. I have literally read every word on that site twice over and found it invaluable.

What could be particularly interesting is her page "No Fat Chicks", it's all about "why overweight beginners rightly hate aerobics classes". If you're overweight and cardio (walking, cycling, whatever) is really stressful on your joints, Krista says weight-training is a must. Sound bizarre? Go read that page, I urge you. She even sets out a very simple 12 week program. It focuses on your eating and exercise, both weights and light cardio. I really wish I had found this back at the beginning, it's really great stuff and SO reassuring for a big fat pork like me that THERE IS HOPE FOR YOU!

Anyway, I had a point here. Hmm. Oh! Yes. Silly gym staff.

After reading Krista's site I knew I needed to overhaul what I'm doing at the gym. I was catching up with a friend of mine the other day and turns out she has been doing weigh training for aaaages and she really knows her stuff. She used to play soccer for Australia so she knows a lot about fitness and nutrition and actually lost about 20 kilos herself, she used to be a mini-pork, and has kept it off for 5 years.

There was none of the silly crap the gym vultures try to feed me. So she offered to help me come up with a program and show me how to use the equipment properly! Brilliant! I will have to smuggle her into the gym somehow, since she's not a member. Maybe she'll fit into my backpack, she's pretty teeny…

And finally, I am really lacking in things to wear right now, and really lacking in funds to buy new clothes. Urgh. The more weight I lose, the less content I am with baggy clothing and hiding. I want to show off my body a little more, even thought it's still hefty. But you look slimmer in clothes that fit you properly than baggy clothes. Some pants  I have to pull right up nearly to under my boobs, just so they'll have a hope of staying up! So yesterday I decided to look back through the wardrobe archives, the ghosts of Sizes Past, and found my old suit, size 20, last worn in mid-1998. The jacket didn't fit by a long shot, but THE PANTS, baby! I got into the pants! They fit just fine and were only the tiniest big snug across my thighs when I sat down, but highly wearable!

Sure they were from K-Mart or some such place, where the sizes tend to be a bit more generous, but still! Wow! Pants from three years ago! That just rocked my world.

Speaking of sizes, was reading a story the other day in an Aussie magazine about clothing, and I did not realise the difference in clothing sizes. An Aussie size 12 is a SIZE 8 in the USA! It always floored me when they'd say "such and such model is a size 2" and I'd say "what the hell kind of whisp of air can get into a size TWO?" but now I realise a size two would actually be 6-8 here. And my sisters Gap jeans from when she was in the states were a US 8, which is an Aussie 12! So she's not such a skinny whore after all! Ahahahahaaaaa!

I'm kidding! I love my sister! By the way, she reached her WW goal last Monday and is now starting maintainence! She rocks! Woo!

SO when I say I got into size 20 pants yesterday, that is size 16 to you Americans.

All I can say is, don't ever come to Australia and buy clothes, coz the tags will be two sizes up, and how crushing would that be to your self esteem? πŸ˜›

Get Some Pants

I don't have to go to physiotherapy anymore. Apparently I am all cured, she even joked that I must have had a "back transplant", because it had improved SO much so quickly. She said it was all due to my hard work and willingness to change. She says she gets so many people that waltz in expecting a miracle cure without them having to do anything, without them having to change any bad habits.

I was very flattered but said to her, after this weight loss shennanigans, what's one more change in my life? I can handle anything now. Ha ha.

She also told me that I should buy some new pants, the ones I had on were falling down. That made my day!

Funny how change becomes easier the more you do it. Back in January I felt paralysed with fear, I felt trapped in my body. I felt totally incapable of improving my situation. I just simply couldn't see how I could possibly ever feel any better than I did back then. Which was pretty damn crap.

But little by little things changed. The key for me was starting out small. First thing was to get into the kitchen and throw out all the junk food, and organise the room so it felt more inviting. If your kitchen's clean and organised you're more inclined to cook, as opposed to cruising by Macca's for a Quarter Pounder meal.

So after that I felt more prepared to start to change my eating habits. Mine were in a shocking state so I went to WW.

Once I'd learned good eating habits, I began to tackle the exercise thing, starting out with just huffing and puffing my way around the block.

I promise you, your confidence will grow and you'll just want to do more and more. It gets addictive, this change thing.

If the big picture overwhelms you, begin with some small changes. Rome didn't become a fat ass in a day. You can't expect to overhaul years of bad habits all at once.

Start small, but dream big. Big fat lardy dreams.

Shall I Compare Thee To A Stick Insect?

As usual I am late with the Weigh-In Post Mortem. I lost 1.2 kilos (2.6 lb). Hurrah! I really did have a good week.

Five times to the gym and all. Plus I ate fish! Three times, no less! I am really getting interested in nutrition lately. But not too interested. I still had my weekly hot fudge sundae from McDonalds. You have to have some vices.

Anyway, now I've hit 75 pounds lost, so I am now eligible to submit to Fred's Transformation Stories. But I dunno, I take photos of myself all the time, and I peer and I peer at them, and sometimes I think, woohoo! There's a difference! Then the next day I'll think there's no difference at all. Right now I am firmly in the "no difference at all" frame of mind.

Much of that was sparked by my Fit Ball class last night. When I had my fitness re-assessment on Monday, Fitness Chick Cathy suggested I try the class coz it gives you a good overall workout but doesn't have the brutal impact of your traditional aerobics. So I said cool.

The class members weren't all hard-core leotarded freaks like I see going in for Body Pump or Step classes, but they were all way smaller than me. I decided to ignore that and concentrate on trying to pretend I was coordinated and follow the instructor. It was Fitness Chick Cathy herself, and she gave me a little wave and smile.

Are you all familiar with fit balls? Swiss balls? They're huge rubber balls that you sit on and you can do all sorts of exercises on them and they're very good, especially for beginners. You can use them to do crunches and pushups and squats bazillions of other things, and the ball supports you so it's good for the chronic lard ass like myself.

First thing we did was kinda sit on the balls. "Okay, now we're going to bounce," she says.

Bounce? Holy crap. Yes she did mean bounce. Up and down and up and down. I could feel my boobs and other wobbly things flying all over the place. Then we kicked our legs out this way and that way and waved our hands around in the air and tossed the ball around and lunged and bounced around some more. My sister, who's slim and coordinated, was just as crap as I was. I'd finally get some sort of rhythm going when either a) I realised everyone had moved on to the next move or b) I looked over my sister, who was flailing her arms like a deranged puppet and gasping from trying not to laugh, which of course would make me laugh. We spent the whole hour cackling away. Luckily there were two other beginners who had just as much trouble as us, so we felt better.

I really did not expect the class to be so damn difficult. I didn't know there were so many things you could do with a great big ball. I discoverd muscles that I never knew existed before. I rediscovered just how unfit and uncoordinated I was.

This was all made worse by the fact I'd forgotten my water bottle. It was a long hour. Plus I have the flu at the moment, so all the bouncing was making my head spin. I had to keep stopping and fumbling for the ol' kleenex.

It was a typical example of my Jeckl/Hyde extremes. One minute I am laughing and having a grand old time, but then we'd so a move and I was really crap at it, or I began to get a bit tired and sore, and my posture on the ball got really crap. The key to fitball is to make sure you hold your spine up, you know, use your abs and be nice and straight. My sister is a genius at that thanks to her Pilates classes, but as the class wore on I just seemed to slump down along with my spirits. I looked around at all the other chicks, even the taller and larger ones seemed to nice and toned and strong, and here I was, a big blob on a ball. Since my posture was dying it seemed like there was no distinction between my boobs and hips, just one big porky bit, bouncing back at me from the wall of mirrors.

Even as I am stomping along doing all the moves my brain is ticking away, the realisation dawning on me… You still weigh 125 kilograms. You are twice the weight of most of these chicks. You can't even do half of these moves properly. Your trackpants are a size 24. You're a long long long way from being even considered plain 'overweight'. You're still really 'damn huge'. You still have a long long long way to go.

This mood has lingered long after the class. I am trying to ignore it but I just feel so blah. I know it's pointless but I keep thinking, why did you let yourself get so big? I get so caught up in my weekly losses that I sometimes forget how far I still have to go, I forget that I am still stuck in this huge lump of a body, because in my mind I'm already slim. I'm so impatient. I'm so fed up with looking like this. I wish my body could catch up with my mind.

I am always like this after I go to a class at the gym. I went to Body Balance last October and I sobbed for hours afterwards because I was so big I couldn't keep up at all. And I don't even compare myself to the little skinny preying mantis chicks. I'm comparing myself to the ordinary average normal kind of woman, and I'm eons away from even that. And then there's those mirrors, flashing your image there in booming stereo, nowhere for you to hide, nothing for you to look at but yourself and your flaws bathed in flourescent light.

How do you learn to like yourself? How do you stay positive? I really thought I had it down. But I keep faltering and the negativity creeps back in.

But I'll be fine. Despite my melancholy I have no desire to eat badly or to stop exercising. And I know the flu has sapped the life out of me right now. I'll go back to that class next week and I'll keep on going and I'll slowly get better at it. These days, I'm not the kind of girl who gives up.