I have this whole complex about this site and feeling uncomfortable when I rave on about myself too much, fearing I will sound like I am up my own arse, thus don’t update regularly. Is that not bloody ridiculous? After all this is a journal, and it is called The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl, and I am Dietgirl, so logic follows that it should be about me and my adventures.
Looking back through the archives, and I know I’ve said this before, my greatest periods of success have been when I wrote regularly. As Julie often says, writing is an invaluable tool for weight loss. And yesterday I was moaning that I couldn’t get my brain back into the weight loss gear. So I’m going to set another mini goal – to write at least three times a week on this site. I will stop worrying about the quality of the writing or whether I sound like a wanker, instead I’ll just spew it out. Hopefully by writing more often I’ll wind up putting more thought into what I eat and how I move my arse. Please check back regularly, and if you don’t see me updating feel free to kick my arse.
. . .
So now I am publically declaring my intent to go to the gym tonight and do the Body Pump class, even though McShouty takes the Friday night class and I can’t stand her. If I am feeling energetic (ie. if she isn’t being too annoying) I might even stay for the Body Combat class afterwards. But for some reason I struggle to do cardio after weights. I can do cardio first, weights second with no worries. But after I’ve been lifting I just want to shuffle home and be done with it. We’ll see how it goes.
Update: I went home after Pump. McShouty was McShitting me. I could put up with it while I had weights to play with, but Combat class would have been something else. I wasn’t in the mood for her “hoo ha hoo” or “come and get me”. Instead I took a brisk extended walk home.
. . .
You know that old saying, “mind over matter”? I really stopped minding my matter over these past couple of months. The mind is such a powerful thing, it can convince you that your ever-expanding matter doesn’t matter. Like recently when I noticed my jeans were very smug around my stomach. My mind said to me, “Looks like they’ve shrunk in the wash!”.
Never mind that they hadn’t been washed in weeks.