I am alive.
Just busy living the life I could only have imagined!
I have started about five posts to bring you all up to speed but I have the concentration of a goldfish at present (very unlike me!). Life is just so good that I'm dizzy with the excitement of it all!
I do promise a more beefy post in the near future. Oi! Eye rolling and skepticism will not bring it to fruition any faster!
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Saturday, October 27, 2007
A year without Nan-ma
The 26th marked one year since my grandma lost her two and a half year battle with cancer.
On Friday, I stood on the river bank in Zurich and thought about her.
How happy she would've been with me travelling - seeing the world and experiencing all she'd talked to me about in excited tones first hand.
How she would be absolutely champing at the bit to see my pictures (and very probably the ONLY person who would look at EVERY picture with more than a cursory glance!).
How she would be quietly boasting to her Gir! Guide posse about my most recent career achievements.
How proud she would be of me, generally - of how far I've come and how much I've changed from that scared young woman who boarded a plane for Saudi Arabia headed into the unknown.
I loved her for what she inspired me to do. I loved her for her wisdom. I loved her for her utter belief in me. I loved her cause she was my Nan-ma. I will always love her and think of her often.
I will never be able to read an article about Gir! Guides (unbelievably, there was an article in the Metr* today that stated that 2/3 of successful career women were either a Brown!e or Gir! Guide when they were younger. Grandma loved to spout it's virtues!) or listen to Michael Buble without thinking of my grandma.
Here's to you Nan-ma.
PS. I'm learning Mah-jong in your honour
PPS. I'm still pretty crap though!
On Friday, I stood on the river bank in Zurich and thought about her.
How happy she would've been with me travelling - seeing the world and experiencing all she'd talked to me about in excited tones first hand.
How she would be absolutely champing at the bit to see my pictures (and very probably the ONLY person who would look at EVERY picture with more than a cursory glance!).
How she would be quietly boasting to her Gir! Guide posse about my most recent career achievements.
How proud she would be of me, generally - of how far I've come and how much I've changed from that scared young woman who boarded a plane for Saudi Arabia headed into the unknown.
I loved her for what she inspired me to do. I loved her for her wisdom. I loved her for her utter belief in me. I loved her cause she was my Nan-ma. I will always love her and think of her often.
I will never be able to read an article about Gir! Guides (unbelievably, there was an article in the Metr* today that stated that 2/3 of successful career women were either a Brown!e or Gir! Guide when they were younger. Grandma loved to spout it's virtues!) or listen to Michael Buble without thinking of my grandma.
Here's to you Nan-ma.
PS. I'm learning Mah-jong in your honour
PPS. I'm still pretty crap though!
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Green
I’m green. And not in the sense of eco-friendly. Nor from being afflicted with some form of motion sickness. But rather with envy.
I’m jealous. Dead jealous. There. I said it.
Why? Well, this week my darling, long time friend sent me some pictures of herself. She has lost 50kg+. On her own, I might add – no gimmicks, no frills just sheer guts (no pun intended) and determination despite having two small children who demand much of her time.
I knew she’d lost this unbelievable amount of weight but until you see it with your own eyes you simply cannot imagine it. She sent me a picture to give me an idea of what she looks like these days. There is nothing left of her. She’s so tiny.
In the past, we had a crack at losing weight together when we were sharing a house. Mind you, neither of us were terribly successful at that point in time. But now, well, she’s a roaring success. I feel slightly like a failure.
It’s hard to articulate why.
We are about the same height and currently I’m about 5kg lighter than her. Yet I still look big compared to her. I looked at myself in the mirror the other night and was brutally honest with myself. I am still carrying substantial weight on my lower stomach, inner thighs and underarms. As I stood there staring at myself, my mind’s eye saw the picture of my friend and I found myself feeling very disappointed with me and my body. I am still a big girl really. I’m just envious. I simply don’t look as good as she does.
We have both worked hard and sacrificed a lot to get to where we are but it seems I am all too human and always want more. Or what others have. I know I touted in my last post that I am cool with not necessarily achieving the same weight loss numbers or low dress sizes as others who begun this journey with me have. But I guess when you get to the heart of it, I’m not. I feel like if I’d worked out harder, longer, more often. If I had forgone that dessert or skipped lunch more often, I too would be waif like at this very moment in time. Sigh.
Pure laziness, fatigue and/or cockiness has seen my exercise routine slip and my eating habits have become less than desirable.
But seeing your friend look like a minx in everyday clothes has spurred me on. I am determined to lose 5kgs before heading to the sun and white sand of Dubai at the end of November.
To make this a reality I have written down what exercise I plan to do which I both enjoy and that I know is effective for my body, which includes: running, spin classes, body pump and Bikram yoga.
I am going to make myself a little bento box of food every night to take to work with me so this will eliminate the temptation to grab snacks while on the run between hospitals.
All green envy aside, I would like to say a huge congratulations to my girlfriend for her amazing weight loss and her inspiration.
I’m jealous. Dead jealous. There. I said it.
Why? Well, this week my darling, long time friend sent me some pictures of herself. She has lost 50kg+. On her own, I might add – no gimmicks, no frills just sheer guts (no pun intended) and determination despite having two small children who demand much of her time.
I knew she’d lost this unbelievable amount of weight but until you see it with your own eyes you simply cannot imagine it. She sent me a picture to give me an idea of what she looks like these days. There is nothing left of her. She’s so tiny.
In the past, we had a crack at losing weight together when we were sharing a house. Mind you, neither of us were terribly successful at that point in time. But now, well, she’s a roaring success. I feel slightly like a failure.
It’s hard to articulate why.
We are about the same height and currently I’m about 5kg lighter than her. Yet I still look big compared to her. I looked at myself in the mirror the other night and was brutally honest with myself. I am still carrying substantial weight on my lower stomach, inner thighs and underarms. As I stood there staring at myself, my mind’s eye saw the picture of my friend and I found myself feeling very disappointed with me and my body. I am still a big girl really. I’m just envious. I simply don’t look as good as she does.
We have both worked hard and sacrificed a lot to get to where we are but it seems I am all too human and always want more. Or what others have. I know I touted in my last post that I am cool with not necessarily achieving the same weight loss numbers or low dress sizes as others who begun this journey with me have. But I guess when you get to the heart of it, I’m not. I feel like if I’d worked out harder, longer, more often. If I had forgone that dessert or skipped lunch more often, I too would be waif like at this very moment in time. Sigh.
Pure laziness, fatigue and/or cockiness has seen my exercise routine slip and my eating habits have become less than desirable.
But seeing your friend look like a minx in everyday clothes has spurred me on. I am determined to lose 5kgs before heading to the sun and white sand of Dubai at the end of November.
To make this a reality I have written down what exercise I plan to do which I both enjoy and that I know is effective for my body, which includes: running, spin classes, body pump and Bikram yoga.
I am going to make myself a little bento box of food every night to take to work with me so this will eliminate the temptation to grab snacks while on the run between hospitals.
All green envy aside, I would like to say a huge congratulations to my girlfriend for her amazing weight loss and her inspiration.
Saturday, September 29, 2007
And that makes a year
So the one year anniversary of my band passed unceremoniously. No bells and whistles. No champagne toasts. No victory dances. It was just an ordinary day. With only the briefest moment devoted to remembering the significance of the date.
But, as promised, here is a summary of the inaugural year of Bandit Girl:
- My band is but a tool
- I have a love/hate relationship with it. There are days where I can’t imagine and don’t ever want to be without it. And there are others I curse it as I struggle to swallow a sip of water or a teaspoon of yoghurt
- It took 8 fills and £720 to get my band reasonably adjusted but not necessarily perfect
- My scars are all but faded
- I occasionally get port pain - especially if I'm doubled over for a while or slouching
- I lost a total of 25.3kg (55.7lbs) in one year
- My friend who had surgery the same day weighed more when we were being rolled in theatre but has lost more than I have (and is significantly smaller!) in the same time frame. Truthfully, I am sometimes envious. But then I give myself the proverbial kick, wish her every good thing and realize that everyone’s journey is unique. I now fully appreciate that each person’s body will respond differently. I am so thankful that the surgery and lifestyle changes have been this successful so far
- I would like to lose another 12-14kg (26.4-30.8lbs) … I don’t have a time frame in which to achieve this
- My BMI has dropped from 37.6 to 29
- I have lost 4 dress sizes – from a 22 to a 14 but bordering on a generous size 12 fit
- I’m not so small I don’t recognize myself – other people seem to think changes are dramatic
- My bra size has gone from a 42DD to a 32H
- When it comes to picking clothing items with the heinously vague sizing: S, M, L, XL .. I am now a medium
- I have given away 6 large black bin bags of clothes including an evening gown which cost me £160 … I never got to wear it … it still had it’s tags
- I have lost a shoe size
- I have discovered I have cheek & collar bones
- I have extremely small wrists and fingers
- Rob insists my head has got smaller … go figure
- I have less cellulite on my thighs – it’s still there but you now have to get up close and personal to witness it
- My boobs still droop but not nearly as much as they use to
- I no longer have an apron tummy but I will always have a bit of a rounded tummy – wash board abs will never be mine
- I lose a considerable amount of hair and tend to bruise easily if I don’t regularly take a multi-vitamin
- I take more pride and time in myself – regular hair and beauty appointments, purchasing quality make up and underwear that makes me feel like a goddess even in my unflattering work trousers
- I will more than likely have cosmetic surgery to tidy up the aftermath
- I cannot eat bread. Or muffins. Or chicken. Or steak. Or fries.
- I can only occasionally eat pasta
- More often than not I struggle with yoghurt
- What I can eat today does not necessarily mean I can eat tomorrow
- I have had two major, kick arse chokes in the past year
- These days I very rarely choke or spit/slime … but trust me, it took almost a year to get a handle on
- I am not always hungry but eat anyway
- I am still learning to listen to my body
- When relatively well adjusted, I eat about a cup/cup & a half of food at a time
- When I’m too tight, I’m lucky if I can eat two mouthfuls
- If I over eat, I get hiccups, sneezes, watery eyes or shoulder pain. Sometimes it can be a combination of all of these!
- Most of my medications and supplements have to be in liquid or dissolvable form otherwise they get stuck in the stoma which then feels like I’m having a heart attack
- On days I still struggle with eating too much chocolate
- Nutella does not constitute a food group
- I do drink the odd bubbly beverage – alcoholic not softdrink
- I can now run
- I enjoy kick arse yoga
- My body shape changes significantly when I am regularly running and doing yoga
- I now have room to move in an airline seat
- I occasionally go for a colonic to ensure that my bowels are healthy but generally speaking, I am regular in the elimination department. I don’t need laxatives.
I don't profess to be a completely reformed individual who follows all the rules to a 'T' but I have bumbled by and got some decent results.
I am still learning stuff.
But looking back - the ups, the downs, the good, the bad, the ugly - if I had to live life over, I would definitely have surgery all over again . It was the best decision I ever made.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Must have smart pants
Okay, all you smarty pants-es out there ... you win. I am sooo not good at this regular blogging gig ... as the lack of promised summary of my tumultous year may have suggested.
I swear I kept sitting down to write it (okay, well i at least thought about it often) but I never seemed to come up with the goods. There have been things to do or someone to catch up with ... that in itself, my friends, speaks volumes ... a far cry from how I use to be. Think, hermit. Think, insecure. Think, Ugly Betty without attitude. And that may be a close summation of all that I was. Now I'm dead disappointed if a mate pulls out of a social rendevous.
But aside from the blossoming social life. I have moved house. It has been a little stressful and time consuming but I must admit, it's nice to now have a proper one bedroom apartment. The whole studio apartment arrangement began to wear thin. 2 years of living in one room will make anyone find the extra cash for a plush pad! Admittedly, I have had some ongoing problems with the landlord not doing the bits and pieces to the property as promised. I had to send Rob into the landlord's office to quietly scare the be-jesus out of them to get stuff done! Shockingly girly but effective tactic.
I have also been applying for jobs in Oz. At one point I was spending every waking hour answering assessment criteria (literally five questions which you write a short essay on)... I nearly gave up it was so daunting! But my applications are in and now I just wait.
As for my weight. Not much is happening. I'm barely eating anything and have had to go for colonics just to get a proper bowel movement. Noice, huh?! So I have decided to go and have some fluid removed so I can get proper nutrition during this last push to get to my goal weight (whatever that actually is!).
So, ummm, that's it for now people. I wouldn't bank on another titillating installment for a week or two (I'm trying reverse psychology on myself!).
I swear I kept sitting down to write it (okay, well i at least thought about it often) but I never seemed to come up with the goods. There have been things to do or someone to catch up with ... that in itself, my friends, speaks volumes ... a far cry from how I use to be. Think, hermit. Think, insecure. Think, Ugly Betty without attitude. And that may be a close summation of all that I was. Now I'm dead disappointed if a mate pulls out of a social rendevous.
But aside from the blossoming social life. I have moved house. It has been a little stressful and time consuming but I must admit, it's nice to now have a proper one bedroom apartment. The whole studio apartment arrangement began to wear thin. 2 years of living in one room will make anyone find the extra cash for a plush pad! Admittedly, I have had some ongoing problems with the landlord not doing the bits and pieces to the property as promised. I had to send Rob into the landlord's office to quietly scare the be-jesus out of them to get stuff done! Shockingly girly but effective tactic.
I have also been applying for jobs in Oz. At one point I was spending every waking hour answering assessment criteria (literally five questions which you write a short essay on)... I nearly gave up it was so daunting! But my applications are in and now I just wait.
As for my weight. Not much is happening. I'm barely eating anything and have had to go for colonics just to get a proper bowel movement. Noice, huh?! So I have decided to go and have some fluid removed so I can get proper nutrition during this last push to get to my goal weight (whatever that actually is!).
So, ummm, that's it for now people. I wouldn't bank on another titillating installment for a week or two (I'm trying reverse psychology on myself!).
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Bringing sexy back
Come now, possums, don't look so shocked. How 'bout you pretend I post regularly and I will forgo my grovelling apologies for my absence ...
But in the interests of good will to mankind, I thought I might post a couple of pictures to show the wee difference between a year ago and now. On the 19th July it will be a year since I found myself in a hysterical state on an operating table in Belgium. I am now almost 24kgs lighter. But I digress ... all you want is the pictures, huh?!
I must warn you though that the before pictures are hideous ... so, may I suggest if you're eating or scare easily please look away ... I wish I was being funny ...
Ahem ... ah, people, are you sure you're ready for this ... I'm not entirely certain I am ...
At the time I knew I felt uncomfortable in my own skin but I had no real perception of just how big I had ballooned. I had an 'apron' tummy and cottage cheese thighs. My scolosis is absolutely apparent.
Gawd, I look like a happy camper in the first of the clothed shots, huh?! ... but one must be mindful, when you're lumping around almost 97kg of weight on a tiny 5' 3" frame, there's not much to smile about.
And now, ladies and gentlemen, I'm bringing sexy back. I'm still about 15kgs off my target weight but I appreciate just how far I've come and how different I now feel.
I'm a very comfortable UK/Oz size 14 or a US size 10 ... sweeeeeet! These pictures were taken a couple of days ago when I attended a royal wedding in Qatar. I felt absolutely amazing in this dress .... so much so, that I didn't really want to take it off at the end of the night!
Breasts. What breasts?! As a matter of fact, I do love them very much.
So, on or around my one year band anniversary, I will endeavour to give a relatively condensed summary of the last year. There have been the typical highs & lows ... as well as adjustments (not only with the band but with my lifestyle!), frustrations and pleasant suprises.
I know you're all going to start making bets amongst yourselves about just how long said post will take to eventuate! You doubt me?! LOL!
Friday, June 08, 2007
Just call me Princess
Hi my name is Dee and I have neglected my blogging obligations.
But I have a good reason - as always! - for being incommunicado.
Baited breath, people, baited breath.
I landed a short term contract treating a member of the Qatari Royal Family. Yeah-huh. Who would believe it?! Quietly, I am earning a tidy sum of money for doing something I love for a client who happens to be from a rather influential (a wee understatement) and wealthy (gross understatement!) family. I have been waking up for the last week and a bit pinching myself in disbelief.
I was flown from London to Doha in business class - an amazing experience if I do say so myself! I am staying in a 5-star hotel with all expenses paid. I have a driver. I have spent a mere sum of 5oGBP in the last 10 days (which is impossible to do in London).
The only down side to this venture? The hotel I am staying at does not have a pool (madness) and is one of the only 'dry' hotels in Doha (wouldn't you know it!).
That being said, I could so get use to all this.
You know what? Just call me Princess!
I plan to write a more complete account of this experience but at the moment life is a bit of a whirlwind ... no complaints mind you, no complaints!
But I have a good reason - as always! - for being incommunicado.
Baited breath, people, baited breath.
I landed a short term contract treating a member of the Qatari Royal Family. Yeah-huh. Who would believe it?! Quietly, I am earning a tidy sum of money for doing something I love for a client who happens to be from a rather influential (a wee understatement) and wealthy (gross understatement!) family. I have been waking up for the last week and a bit pinching myself in disbelief.
I was flown from London to Doha in business class - an amazing experience if I do say so myself! I am staying in a 5-star hotel with all expenses paid. I have a driver. I have spent a mere sum of 5oGBP in the last 10 days (which is impossible to do in London).
The only down side to this venture? The hotel I am staying at does not have a pool (madness) and is one of the only 'dry' hotels in Doha (wouldn't you know it!).
That being said, I could so get use to all this.
You know what? Just call me Princess!
I plan to write a more complete account of this experience but at the moment life is a bit of a whirlwind ... no complaints mind you, no complaints!
Monday, May 21, 2007
Run baby run: Part 6
Okay. Are you all sitting down?
I ran for one hour this morning. ONE. HOUR.
STRAIGHT.
I stepped off the treadmill sopping in sweat but smiling at my achievement. One hour of continuous running with very little back pain (started tweaking at about the 4.5km mark).
I completed 7-something kilometres of running. Running 5kms in 41 mins. An improvement of 1 1/2 mins from my last run and an overall 4 mins off my first timed 5km run. Sweeeet!
My fitness keeps on improving. Strangely enough, it suprises the hell out of me just what my body can do these days. Like running. Holding a full 'plank' posture. Doing a proper push up.
How can I not love the skin I'm in?! I mean, this wee bod can break into a run or bend itself into a pretzel at the drop of a hat if I demand it .... all the while it continues to slowly burn the lard off my arse. I'm asking this baby to multi-task and you know what? She's coming up with the goods. Lovin' it!
I ran for one hour this morning. ONE. HOUR.
STRAIGHT.
I stepped off the treadmill sopping in sweat but smiling at my achievement. One hour of continuous running with very little back pain (started tweaking at about the 4.5km mark).
I completed 7-something kilometres of running. Running 5kms in 41 mins. An improvement of 1 1/2 mins from my last run and an overall 4 mins off my first timed 5km run. Sweeeet!
My fitness keeps on improving. Strangely enough, it suprises the hell out of me just what my body can do these days. Like running. Holding a full 'plank' posture. Doing a proper push up.
How can I not love the skin I'm in?! I mean, this wee bod can break into a run or bend itself into a pretzel at the drop of a hat if I demand it .... all the while it continues to slowly burn the lard off my arse. I'm asking this baby to multi-task and you know what? She's coming up with the goods. Lovin' it!
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Nip 'n' tuck
No doubt this entry is going to raise some eyebrows. I expect there will be skeptics and critics amongst you. Those who will not or cannot understand my reasons. Those who will say it’s all for vanity. But I would like to hope there are a few of you out there that have an open mind and maybe even a couple who are quietly (or vocally) backing Bandit Girl every mad step of the way on her journey.
So what’s the fuss?
I’m considering cosmetic surgery. The whole thing is in it’s infancy stages. I mean, I’m only just now heading into a weight range that would warrant starting research to begin with. Believe me, I’m not in a screaming rush to go under the knife. And trust me, it won’t be for the reason of weight loss but rather to inhibit the jiggle of the jiggly bits which steadfastly refuse to be non-jiggly. Technical, huh? The basic plan is this … I am going to get to a weight where I feel really comfortable in my skin; maintain this for a couple of months and only then go for some nip ‘n’ tuck.
I’m considering the following:
- A lift and plump to the boobs
- Liposuction (or safer alternative) to my stomach, inner thighs, bingo wings and maybe neck (if the fatty pocket doesn’t completely disappear with further weight loss)
- Nose job – this is not a priority and I may never have this done. I have wanted my nose done since I was 20 but most people assure me that it’s fine – I, however, think it’s a little bulbous!
I guess some of it’s vanity but the other side to it is that I have NEVER felt comfortable in my body. I have never looked at myself and gone “Hot damn, diggity dog .. you’re on fire!” or smiled to myself, smug with the knowledge that I look fantastic. My youth is galloping past and I want my gawd damn moment to shine. I want to feel ridiculously comfortable in my skin. I want to look how I always dreamt I could look. I want to look at the end product – surgery enhanced and all – and be proud of what I see … knowing just how much hard work, effort, dedication and determination went into achieving it. And that I achieved the one thing I thought I couldn’t do.
Monday, May 07, 2007
In a nutshell
Wow. Is it just me or as you get older time seems to be going faster? I could've sworn I had written a post mere days ago ... but evidently it was almost three weeks ago!
Just a quick update:
Weight:
I am now at the lowest weight I've ever been in my adult life. I dare not write the number or post a ticker for an irrational fear of jinxing the gorgeous number that flashed up on the scales this morning. Mad, I know. Suffice to say I feel amazing. And once again, I'm having problems with finding threads to cover my arse and still look half decent. My smallest jeans can be taken on and off without undoing the button or zip. I think I will just have to bite the bullet and part with £15 for a new pair. Oh what a shame.
I have failed to share with you all but I hit a plateau in my weight loss efforts for about 6 weeks. It was the longest, most frustrating period of my journey to date. There were countless times that I felt like giving up and yelling "Screw you!"to my body but stuck with the exercise and good eating habits ... and then about a week ago it happened ... I began to melt again. Thank the Guy in the Sky!
Exercise:
Slight cut back on the amount of weight training I had been previously doing and focussing on cardio and fat burning exercise. Just to see some pounds move. Undoubtedly, I will have to jazz it up a bit in a couple of weeks though - increase the time, intensity or type of cardio.
On the running front, I am still keeping on although I am taking it a bit easy due to some knee pain. Although I haven't done another timed 5km run recently, I still continually suprise myself at just how long and how far I can run without feeling out of breath or in pain. There is NO WAY I could've shuffled yet alone run a year ago! Mind you, I'm not a speedy or pretty looking runner but the fact that I can break into a run is frightfully exciting!
To help with my running and ensuring I am exercising effectively, I have been planning to get a heart rate monitor for the past 4 months. I've been doing some haphazard research at present and Rob (being the gorgeous, supportive man he is) has offered to buy one for me for my birthday ... the problem is deciding which one!
Colonic irrigation:
I am now a fashionable, savvy and uber health conscious Londoner. I have had colonic hydrotherapy aka colonic irrigation. After suffering with bloating and wind problems for about three weeks, I went for a colonic irrigation. It was the most bizarre experience and I can't even begin to accurately describe the experience (and would you really want me to anyway?!)! Apparently my bowels are in good working order but I had an inordinate amount of trapped wind. Following the treatment my bloating subsided, my stomach went back to being 'flat' and I felt sooo much better. Although it is said that some people can lose between 1-4lbs after a treatment, I, unfortunately, didn't have that good fortune. My weight was more or less the same pre and post-treatment. But my insides were the happiest campers in London!
Clothing:
I have to do another run to Good Sam's within the next week or two. I have bulging bin bags of my size 16-18 clothes. I need to get rid of unnecessary to make room for my sexy new size 12-14 summer wardrobe! I finding myself smiling with disbelief every time I walk into a clothing shop and don't have to go to the size 16 plus section. And as for the shops that only start at size 16 ... on the occasions where I absent mindedly walk in and start browsing, I realise after a few minutes that all eyes are on me and I'm drawing attention to myself! I am now an off the rack kinda gal! Gawd, whoever would've thought .... bring on size 8-10!
Just a quick update:
Weight:
I am now at the lowest weight I've ever been in my adult life. I dare not write the number or post a ticker for an irrational fear of jinxing the gorgeous number that flashed up on the scales this morning. Mad, I know. Suffice to say I feel amazing. And once again, I'm having problems with finding threads to cover my arse and still look half decent. My smallest jeans can be taken on and off without undoing the button or zip. I think I will just have to bite the bullet and part with £15 for a new pair. Oh what a shame.
I have failed to share with you all but I hit a plateau in my weight loss efforts for about 6 weeks. It was the longest, most frustrating period of my journey to date. There were countless times that I felt like giving up and yelling "Screw you!"to my body but stuck with the exercise and good eating habits ... and then about a week ago it happened ... I began to melt again. Thank the Guy in the Sky!
Exercise:
Slight cut back on the amount of weight training I had been previously doing and focussing on cardio and fat burning exercise. Just to see some pounds move. Undoubtedly, I will have to jazz it up a bit in a couple of weeks though - increase the time, intensity or type of cardio.
On the running front, I am still keeping on although I am taking it a bit easy due to some knee pain. Although I haven't done another timed 5km run recently, I still continually suprise myself at just how long and how far I can run without feeling out of breath or in pain. There is NO WAY I could've shuffled yet alone run a year ago! Mind you, I'm not a speedy or pretty looking runner but the fact that I can break into a run is frightfully exciting!
To help with my running and ensuring I am exercising effectively, I have been planning to get a heart rate monitor for the past 4 months. I've been doing some haphazard research at present and Rob (being the gorgeous, supportive man he is) has offered to buy one for me for my birthday ... the problem is deciding which one!
Colonic irrigation:
I am now a fashionable, savvy and uber health conscious Londoner. I have had colonic hydrotherapy aka colonic irrigation. After suffering with bloating and wind problems for about three weeks, I went for a colonic irrigation. It was the most bizarre experience and I can't even begin to accurately describe the experience (and would you really want me to anyway?!)! Apparently my bowels are in good working order but I had an inordinate amount of trapped wind. Following the treatment my bloating subsided, my stomach went back to being 'flat' and I felt sooo much better. Although it is said that some people can lose between 1-4lbs after a treatment, I, unfortunately, didn't have that good fortune. My weight was more or less the same pre and post-treatment. But my insides were the happiest campers in London!
Clothing:
I have to do another run to Good Sam's within the next week or two. I have bulging bin bags of my size 16-18 clothes. I need to get rid of unnecessary to make room for my sexy new size 12-14 summer wardrobe! I finding myself smiling with disbelief every time I walk into a clothing shop and don't have to go to the size 16 plus section. And as for the shops that only start at size 16 ... on the occasions where I absent mindedly walk in and start browsing, I realise after a few minutes that all eyes are on me and I'm drawing attention to myself! I am now an off the rack kinda gal! Gawd, whoever would've thought .... bring on size 8-10!
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Run baby run: Part 5
Another update on the running.
I ran/walked the same 5km circuit yesterday. Guess what?! I shaved 2 1/2 mins off last week's time! My first attempt was 45mins on the nose; yesterday my time was 42:28mins. I am determined to get my time down to 35mins by July.
***
And now for an unashamed plug for sponsorship and donations for my Race For Life run in July. I have attached a widget thing on my sidebar where you can click and sponsor me. It's secure payment. You can use a credit or debit card. You can also go directly to my web page - through which you can also donate/sponsor. The web address is: www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/gypsydee. I'd appreciate donations however small or large. Research into the causes and cure for cancer is vitally important. The number of people diagnosed with cancer every year world wide is on the rise. Chances are, most of us at some point in our lives, will end up knowing, supporting or caring for someone ... a friend, a family member ... who has been diagnosed with cancer. There has to be a cure. There just has to be.
I ran/walked the same 5km circuit yesterday. Guess what?! I shaved 2 1/2 mins off last week's time! My first attempt was 45mins on the nose; yesterday my time was 42:28mins. I am determined to get my time down to 35mins by July.
***
And now for an unashamed plug for sponsorship and donations for my Race For Life run in July. I have attached a widget thing on my sidebar where you can click and sponsor me. It's secure payment. You can use a credit or debit card. You can also go directly to my web page - through which you can also donate/sponsor. The web address is: www.raceforlifesponsorme.org/gypsydee. I'd appreciate donations however small or large. Research into the causes and cure for cancer is vitally important. The number of people diagnosed with cancer every year world wide is on the rise. Chances are, most of us at some point in our lives, will end up knowing, supporting or caring for someone ... a friend, a family member ... who has been diagnosed with cancer. There has to be a cure. There just has to be.
Friday, April 13, 2007
Urgh
My stomach is so bloated. It's been this way for almost five days now. And I have no idea why. It's a terribly uncomfortable feeling. I remember feeling this way prior to taking medication for endometriosis.
But after I started the medication, I ceased having a period and never experienced the bloating thing again. Until now. Two years later. I have been having a few gynae issues lately. I really must find myself a gynaecologist here in London. Probably due a check up.
I feel like crap. My weight has shot up. Shut up. I know I said I was going to take the focus off the scales but with this bloating I wanted to keep tabs on what was happening.
I can't even take anti-inflammatories. Strict band rules ... unless I want some eroded stomach lining.
Urgh.
But after I started the medication, I ceased having a period and never experienced the bloating thing again. Until now. Two years later. I have been having a few gynae issues lately. I really must find myself a gynaecologist here in London. Probably due a check up.
I feel like crap. My weight has shot up. Shut up. I know I said I was going to take the focus off the scales but with this bloating I wanted to keep tabs on what was happening.
I can't even take anti-inflammatories. Strict band rules ... unless I want some eroded stomach lining.
Urgh.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
And?
My application for a Highly Skilled Migrant Permit was approved!
One huge relief ... yes. But in typical UK beauracratic style, I now have to apply for Leave to Remain in the UK which is not necessarily granted even though I have HSMP status! It's a complete farce. Anyway, I sent off my application, passport and 350GBP to the Border and Immigration Department.
All up, I will have coughed up 665GBP plus all the postage costs for this visa.
So there will be no way that I will accept a permanent position at any hospital in London after outlaying that kind of money. I only recently found out what a permanent therapist earns .... 1130GBP per month. I earn substantially more than that. And when my rent is 600GBP per month ... that kind of money wouldn't stretch far at all. I'd rather go out on a limb and set up a private practice than work for a pitance.
Saying all this, I'm still to find out what is happening with the position in the Middle East. Apparently it's still in the pipe line. The delay is down to licences and red tape. Pfft. I'll believe it's real when I see a contract and an airline ticket.
In the meantime, I nervously await the return of my passport ... and final approval and a visa for me to remain in the UK. Joy.
One huge relief ... yes. But in typical UK beauracratic style, I now have to apply for Leave to Remain in the UK which is not necessarily granted even though I have HSMP status! It's a complete farce. Anyway, I sent off my application, passport and 350GBP to the Border and Immigration Department.
All up, I will have coughed up 665GBP plus all the postage costs for this visa.
So there will be no way that I will accept a permanent position at any hospital in London after outlaying that kind of money. I only recently found out what a permanent therapist earns .... 1130GBP per month. I earn substantially more than that. And when my rent is 600GBP per month ... that kind of money wouldn't stretch far at all. I'd rather go out on a limb and set up a private practice than work for a pitance.
Saying all this, I'm still to find out what is happening with the position in the Middle East. Apparently it's still in the pipe line. The delay is down to licences and red tape. Pfft. I'll believe it's real when I see a contract and an airline ticket.
In the meantime, I nervously await the return of my passport ... and final approval and a visa for me to remain in the UK. Joy.
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Hold the phone ...
there's an outcome on my visa application.
Although I am yet to find out what it is. A decision has been made by the assessor but the Home Office could not tell me whether the decision was favourable or not over the phone.
Apparently a package containing the all important decision letter and my certificates were delivered to the house today but as I was not there to sign for it, I have to go collect it from the delivery centre. Tomorrow. Yeah, you read it right ... tomorrow. Why? Because the delivery office where my recorded signature package is being held only opens between 7am & 1pm. Dead convenient for those of us with regular jobs.
So I now have 14hrs to dangle on tenterhooks. Gulp. Keep your fingers crossed for me peoples.
Although I am yet to find out what it is. A decision has been made by the assessor but the Home Office could not tell me whether the decision was favourable or not over the phone.
Apparently a package containing the all important decision letter and my certificates were delivered to the house today but as I was not there to sign for it, I have to go collect it from the delivery centre. Tomorrow. Yeah, you read it right ... tomorrow. Why? Because the delivery office where my recorded signature package is being held only opens between 7am & 1pm. Dead convenient for those of us with regular jobs.
So I now have 14hrs to dangle on tenterhooks. Gulp. Keep your fingers crossed for me peoples.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
My arse had it's own postcode
Oh my gawd.
I found pictures I took of myself the day before my surgery 9 months ago. They are positively hideous. I wish I was exaggerating but I’m not. I wish I could be brave enough to post them for your viewing pleasure. But I just can’t bring myself to do it for the shame of it. Maybe after I’ve shaved a couple more kilos off my frame and I may very well find the courage to do so. We can all but hope. They will frighten you. Guaranteed. Let’s just say there was no bloody wonder I felt awkward in my body and definitely would explain why I could only fit a few articles of clothing in my wardrobe … I was positively bursting out of my body seams! Let me try and paint you a picture. I stood there in only a pair of knickers and a bra for one lot of shots; jeans and a tight fitting t-shirt for the second lot. I had doughy, deathly white, deeply dimpled thighs. My legs were huge … I don’t recall it but I surely must’ve waddled instead of walked. My arse was wide, flat and had it’s own postcode. My gut protruded out much farther than my boobs. I looked all squished together in the trunk and hip area … rather like I had been concertinaed together … I had absolutely no waist to speak of. I had massive rolls of fat on my back – just above my waist – big lardy handles which were an obvious indication of my gluttony. I wish someone had used them to restrain me from walking down the confectionery aisle of the supermarket. I had a significant double chin. My cheeks were chubbier than a cherub’s. I looked miserable. I remember feeling miserable. I also remember standing there as the self-timer mode went off on the camera praying that the surgery would end up helping me successfully lose weight. I couldn’t stand myself.
**Ching ching – 9 months later**
I am now a definite size 14. Consistently. In every high street shop in London. It still surprises me. I started out as a size 18-22. Nowadays, when I hold up a pair of size 18 jeans it shocks me. They look huge. How did I ever let myself get that lardy? It took a helluva lot of material to cover my arse back then!
I bought my very first ever full length mirror a couple of weeks ago. The main reason was because I was having trouble noticing and appreciating the changes that are happening with my body. As I’ve mentioned before, I still sometimes think I’m 96.4kg. Since the purchase of “The Mirror”, I now make a point of looking at myself at least once a day … whether I be naked, in underwear or fully clothed it doesn’t matter … I just find that I need to stand there for a minute or two to appreciate and acknowledge the changes that have and continue to happen to my little bod. I’m sure it will take me quite some time to really believe I am smaller than I see myself in my mind’s eye. But before you panic, I can assure you I won’t ever become as deluded as an anorexic who stands there with bones clearly poking out of her skin thinking “God, I’m fat”. You see, I love my curves. Just want to downsize them another size or two. Okay, two if we’re being honest.
I found pictures I took of myself the day before my surgery 9 months ago. They are positively hideous. I wish I was exaggerating but I’m not. I wish I could be brave enough to post them for your viewing pleasure. But I just can’t bring myself to do it for the shame of it. Maybe after I’ve shaved a couple more kilos off my frame and I may very well find the courage to do so. We can all but hope. They will frighten you. Guaranteed. Let’s just say there was no bloody wonder I felt awkward in my body and definitely would explain why I could only fit a few articles of clothing in my wardrobe … I was positively bursting out of my body seams! Let me try and paint you a picture. I stood there in only a pair of knickers and a bra for one lot of shots; jeans and a tight fitting t-shirt for the second lot. I had doughy, deathly white, deeply dimpled thighs. My legs were huge … I don’t recall it but I surely must’ve waddled instead of walked. My arse was wide, flat and had it’s own postcode. My gut protruded out much farther than my boobs. I looked all squished together in the trunk and hip area … rather like I had been concertinaed together … I had absolutely no waist to speak of. I had massive rolls of fat on my back – just above my waist – big lardy handles which were an obvious indication of my gluttony. I wish someone had used them to restrain me from walking down the confectionery aisle of the supermarket. I had a significant double chin. My cheeks were chubbier than a cherub’s. I looked miserable. I remember feeling miserable. I also remember standing there as the self-timer mode went off on the camera praying that the surgery would end up helping me successfully lose weight. I couldn’t stand myself.
**Ching ching – 9 months later**
I am now a definite size 14. Consistently. In every high street shop in London. It still surprises me. I started out as a size 18-22. Nowadays, when I hold up a pair of size 18 jeans it shocks me. They look huge. How did I ever let myself get that lardy? It took a helluva lot of material to cover my arse back then!
I bought my very first ever full length mirror a couple of weeks ago. The main reason was because I was having trouble noticing and appreciating the changes that are happening with my body. As I’ve mentioned before, I still sometimes think I’m 96.4kg. Since the purchase of “The Mirror”, I now make a point of looking at myself at least once a day … whether I be naked, in underwear or fully clothed it doesn’t matter … I just find that I need to stand there for a minute or two to appreciate and acknowledge the changes that have and continue to happen to my little bod. I’m sure it will take me quite some time to really believe I am smaller than I see myself in my mind’s eye. But before you panic, I can assure you I won’t ever become as deluded as an anorexic who stands there with bones clearly poking out of her skin thinking “God, I’m fat”. You see, I love my curves. Just want to downsize them another size or two. Okay, two if we’re being honest.
Monday, April 09, 2007
Run baby run: Part 4
Whoever suggested that exercise curbed your appetite was either anorexic or had never run a day in their life. My appetite has been gigantic since taking up the running gig. Strangely enough though, all this pushing my body to it’s limits has developed a new respect for it ... I want to look after it, nurture it and thank it for all it does for me. I have been fueling my body with good quality food as frequently as it demands. Which, at the moment, is every 2 hours. Not exactly the recommendations Bandsters are advised to follow … but what the hey. I am trying to listen and become more attuned to my body. I am going to try to take the focus off the scales for a little while.
And now, let me bang on about the actual running thing. I know. You lucky, lucky devils! On Sunday I ran/walked a 5km circuit. The time? 45 minutes exactly. Okay, not a pocket rocket time but that did include walking the hill sections and the pedestrian footbridge over the train line with 45 stairs each side. At times, the running was not always comfortable but I persisted … and although the time was slow, I was pretty proud of myself. Think about it, folks ... in spite of my weight loss, I am still 15-20kgs overweight (depending on whether you want to follow my recommended BMI or a weight range like WW) and I have a severe congential scoliosis. So, to drag my partially disabled bulk around the full circuit at all is amazing. I hope to get my run/walk down to 35-38 mins by race day in July. Here's hoping.
I have already devoured the two books I bought on running. They will now be my bible, the sacred reference books on all things running. Both books were interesting, informative reads and quite inspiring. It was through reading these books that I learnt that I should only tackle one running element at a time ie. build up endurance before running hills or speed workouts, that is unless I fancy sustaining an injury or experiencing physical burn out. So that was the primary reason for not running the hills on my Sunday run … not because I didn’t want to try but I because I don’t really want a whacking big injury before I’ve barely beguan!
I really do believe that running is going to change me – not only physically but mentally and emotionally as well. Weird you say? Have a read of what John Bingham writes in “Marathon Running for Mortals”:
“Crossing the starting line may be an act of courage, but crossing the finishing line is an act of faith. And faith is one of the most powerful emotions you can experience. Faith is what keeps us going when nothing else will. Faith is the emotion that conquers fear. Faith is the emotion that will give you victory over your past, the demons in your soul and all of those voices that tell you what you can and cannot do and can and cannot be.”
How can you not be inspired to run after reading that?
And now, let me bang on about the actual running thing. I know. You lucky, lucky devils! On Sunday I ran/walked a 5km circuit. The time? 45 minutes exactly. Okay, not a pocket rocket time but that did include walking the hill sections and the pedestrian footbridge over the train line with 45 stairs each side. At times, the running was not always comfortable but I persisted … and although the time was slow, I was pretty proud of myself. Think about it, folks ... in spite of my weight loss, I am still 15-20kgs overweight (depending on whether you want to follow my recommended BMI or a weight range like WW) and I have a severe congential scoliosis. So, to drag my partially disabled bulk around the full circuit at all is amazing. I hope to get my run/walk down to 35-38 mins by race day in July. Here's hoping.
I have already devoured the two books I bought on running. They will now be my bible, the sacred reference books on all things running. Both books were interesting, informative reads and quite inspiring. It was through reading these books that I learnt that I should only tackle one running element at a time ie. build up endurance before running hills or speed workouts, that is unless I fancy sustaining an injury or experiencing physical burn out. So that was the primary reason for not running the hills on my Sunday run … not because I didn’t want to try but I because I don’t really want a whacking big injury before I’ve barely beguan!
I really do believe that running is going to change me – not only physically but mentally and emotionally as well. Weird you say? Have a read of what John Bingham writes in “Marathon Running for Mortals”:
“Crossing the starting line may be an act of courage, but crossing the finishing line is an act of faith. And faith is one of the most powerful emotions you can experience. Faith is what keeps us going when nothing else will. Faith is the emotion that conquers fear. Faith is the emotion that will give you victory over your past, the demons in your soul and all of those voices that tell you what you can and cannot do and can and cannot be.”
How can you not be inspired to run after reading that?
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
The reading matter of Bandit Girl
I was curled up reading my newly purchased book on "Running for Women" tonight when it suddenly occurred to me.
I love books (okay ... that part didn't just occur to me!). I surround myself with them. Library books. Purchased books. Borrowed books. Free books. Thick books. Thin books. Reference books. Fictional books. Love 'em. Every one of them.
Prior to my band I owned a swag of weight loss books. And I mean a swag. Everything from the psychology of eating self help books, diet specific books, books on super foods, calorie counting books, intuitive eating books. On and on the list went. My library of such material grew to mammoth and rather ridiculous proportions (in hindsight, of course!).
However, over the past 9 months since surgery and with the slow but steady success of the band, I have pared down my collection of these books. And I am left with but one. Good ole' Gillian McKeith's "You Are What You Eat". And now? Well, let's just say there is a definite sea change! I have oodles of books on fitness & health (not dieting) - yoga books, a book on anatomy for strength and fitness training, weight training books, books on running, beauty books (make up application and hair styling) and photography books. Gone are the Weight Watchers and Slimmers magazines; replaced with Practical Photography, Bravissimo catalogues (lingerie) and fashion magazines like Red & Grazia (I don't buy these often but when I plan for a lazy weekend they are the bomb!).
And as for the matter that covers my fridge. Previously, it would be on the calorie values of some of my favourite foods and 'diet' sayings to try and prevent me from eating (as if that was going to stop me! Ha!). Now I have magnets that have inspirational sayings (basically affirmations acknowledging how far I have come); a flyer from the local organic food store; a yoga time table and snippets on travel locations/hotels and an article on the newly opened Sex Academy.
I guess some would shrug and say, "Big deal, Bandit Girl". But to me it is a big deal. It's a monumental change. I have, without even being completely aware, moved from being focussed on food, calorie counting and weight loss to being far more interested in health, fitness, my hobby and learning to look like a gorgeous goddess. I really love this change. I love feeling like a normal, healthy human being. Not an obsessed, hung up, waiting-for-my-life-to-begin-when-I-lose-40kg human being. Sweeeeet!
I love books (okay ... that part didn't just occur to me!). I surround myself with them. Library books. Purchased books. Borrowed books. Free books. Thick books. Thin books. Reference books. Fictional books. Love 'em. Every one of them.
Prior to my band I owned a swag of weight loss books. And I mean a swag. Everything from the psychology of eating self help books, diet specific books, books on super foods, calorie counting books, intuitive eating books. On and on the list went. My library of such material grew to mammoth and rather ridiculous proportions (in hindsight, of course!).
However, over the past 9 months since surgery and with the slow but steady success of the band, I have pared down my collection of these books. And I am left with but one. Good ole' Gillian McKeith's "You Are What You Eat". And now? Well, let's just say there is a definite sea change! I have oodles of books on fitness & health (not dieting) - yoga books, a book on anatomy for strength and fitness training, weight training books, books on running, beauty books (make up application and hair styling) and photography books. Gone are the Weight Watchers and Slimmers magazines; replaced with Practical Photography, Bravissimo catalogues (lingerie) and fashion magazines like Red & Grazia (I don't buy these often but when I plan for a lazy weekend they are the bomb!).
And as for the matter that covers my fridge. Previously, it would be on the calorie values of some of my favourite foods and 'diet' sayings to try and prevent me from eating (as if that was going to stop me! Ha!). Now I have magnets that have inspirational sayings (basically affirmations acknowledging how far I have come); a flyer from the local organic food store; a yoga time table and snippets on travel locations/hotels and an article on the newly opened Sex Academy.
I guess some would shrug and say, "Big deal, Bandit Girl". But to me it is a big deal. It's a monumental change. I have, without even being completely aware, moved from being focussed on food, calorie counting and weight loss to being far more interested in health, fitness, my hobby and learning to look like a gorgeous goddess. I really love this change. I love feeling like a normal, healthy human being. Not an obsessed, hung up, waiting-for-my-life-to-begin-when-I-lose-40kg human being. Sweeeeet!
Monday, April 02, 2007
Run baby run: Part 3
I hurt. Everywhere. My back. My knees. My ribs. My boobs. My eyes. My arms. Any movement seems to elicit pain. Not uncomfortable pain. But rather the type you get when you know you've pushed yourself hard and you feel a certain sense of satisfaction.
I went out hard today and feel a great sense of achievement in spite of pain and the exhaustion from a long night vigil for my family.
I literally had to pick my arse up by it's cheeks and drag it to the gym this morning at 6am. To my pleasant suprise, I found that my usual Body Pump class had been increased from 45 min to an hour. Yesss! I lifted heavier weights. I completed more repetitions than usual despite the screaming protests of my muscles. I worked hard. I even had the sopping wet t-shirt to prove it!
I took a little more time and care with getting dressed and made up and felt like one hell of a classy chick cutting up the pavement on my way to work. I may have even 'minced' into the foyer of the hospital.
Then, after work I went on the much feared run with the running group. I ran for almost an hour .. I may have walked for a total of 15mins. Admittedly, at times my running was barely faster than walking. But I would like to point out that the Oxford dictionary defines running as: moving at a speed faster than a walk ... albeit just! My back was killing me. And at times I thought I would pass out ... but maybe some of that had to do with the lack of oxygen I was able to inhale due to the fierce constriction of my new running bra! But I just kept going.
You know what? I kind of enjoyed it. It was complete hell but the fact that there were 10 women of varying abilities, shapes, ages and running ambitions made it a hoot. We did split runs (fast/slow), fast relays and a fun, fiesty game of 'tiggy'(tag) on the way back to the hospital. I loved it. I loved the camaraderie. I loved the support ... these women encouraging me, supporting me, cheering me on yet being understanding enough to jog at an almost non-pace when my back pained too much to run. I think I may be hooked. It's social. It's outdoors. And dammit, it may just end up being more fun than I could imagine.
So here's to uber sore muscles tomorrow and pushing the boat out of the harbour of comfortable and familiar.
Must. Read. One. Chapter. Of. Running. Book. Before. Falling. Asleep. Maybe not.
I went out hard today and feel a great sense of achievement in spite of pain and the exhaustion from a long night vigil for my family.
I literally had to pick my arse up by it's cheeks and drag it to the gym this morning at 6am. To my pleasant suprise, I found that my usual Body Pump class had been increased from 45 min to an hour. Yesss! I lifted heavier weights. I completed more repetitions than usual despite the screaming protests of my muscles. I worked hard. I even had the sopping wet t-shirt to prove it!
I took a little more time and care with getting dressed and made up and felt like one hell of a classy chick cutting up the pavement on my way to work. I may have even 'minced' into the foyer of the hospital.
Then, after work I went on the much feared run with the running group. I ran for almost an hour .. I may have walked for a total of 15mins. Admittedly, at times my running was barely faster than walking. But I would like to point out that the Oxford dictionary defines running as: moving at a speed faster than a walk ... albeit just! My back was killing me. And at times I thought I would pass out ... but maybe some of that had to do with the lack of oxygen I was able to inhale due to the fierce constriction of my new running bra! But I just kept going.
You know what? I kind of enjoyed it. It was complete hell but the fact that there were 10 women of varying abilities, shapes, ages and running ambitions made it a hoot. We did split runs (fast/slow), fast relays and a fun, fiesty game of 'tiggy'(tag) on the way back to the hospital. I loved it. I loved the camaraderie. I loved the support ... these women encouraging me, supporting me, cheering me on yet being understanding enough to jog at an almost non-pace when my back pained too much to run. I think I may be hooked. It's social. It's outdoors. And dammit, it may just end up being more fun than I could imagine.
So here's to uber sore muscles tomorrow and pushing the boat out of the harbour of comfortable and familiar.
Must. Read. One. Chapter. Of. Running. Book. Before. Falling. Asleep. Maybe not.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
If only it were April fools
It's 11:40pm Sunday night in the UK. I have just got a frantic text message from my mum saying a tsunami warning had been issued for Cairns. I text her back and said, "Are you sure it's real and not a belated April fool's joke?". Unfortunately, it isn't. I've logged onto the Bureau of Meteorology website and sure enough there is a massive warning for coastal towns of the east coast of Australia from the northern penninsula to Brisbane for a Tsunami strike.
I have received a message from a friend who's parents and their catamaran (which they lovingly built from scratch) were moored in the Solomon Islands. She has told me that her parents and the boat are okay but the island of Gizo is completely wiped out.
I cannot believe it. Only yesterday did my mum tell me with much excitement that she was coming to visit me in the UK for two weeks in June. This is huge. My mum has never travelled outside Oz before. I sent her a text message a week ago asking if she'd consider coming over to visit me but I figured she wouldn't have the cash, the time or the desire to visit me overseas before Rob and I headed back to Oz to build a little nest. But to my great suprise and joy, she has decided she is going to take the plunge and come in the next lot of school holidays (as she works at a school). I have been on cloud 9 ever since she told me.
Now I'm in a state of panic. I'm trawling the internet. Calling her. Texting her. Texting her again. Gawd, I can't believe this. It's completely nuts. I cannot do anything to help. I feel rather helpless. There is no way I can sleep till I know everything is going to be okay ... or not. Please keep my family and friends in your thoughts and prayers.
I have received a message from a friend who's parents and their catamaran (which they lovingly built from scratch) were moored in the Solomon Islands. She has told me that her parents and the boat are okay but the island of Gizo is completely wiped out.
I cannot believe it. Only yesterday did my mum tell me with much excitement that she was coming to visit me in the UK for two weeks in June. This is huge. My mum has never travelled outside Oz before. I sent her a text message a week ago asking if she'd consider coming over to visit me but I figured she wouldn't have the cash, the time or the desire to visit me overseas before Rob and I headed back to Oz to build a little nest. But to my great suprise and joy, she has decided she is going to take the plunge and come in the next lot of school holidays (as she works at a school). I have been on cloud 9 ever since she told me.
Now I'm in a state of panic. I'm trawling the internet. Calling her. Texting her. Texting her again. Gawd, I can't believe this. It's completely nuts. I cannot do anything to help. I feel rather helpless. There is no way I can sleep till I know everything is going to be okay ... or not. Please keep my family and friends in your thoughts and prayers.
Run baby run: Part 2
I think I need to lie down. I can't believe I'm planning to do some serious running. Am I completely nuts? Trust me, I'll keep you informed!
I now own two books on running. "The Complete Book of Running for Women" (Claire Kowalchik) and "Marathon Running for Mortals" (John Bingham & Jenny Hadfield). I have already devoured half of the Claire Kowalchik's book in one day. It is so full of information and inspiration. Just reading makes me want to run! I have trawled the internet for a load of websites on running for women and bookmarked them into my one of my favourites folders labelled "Health & Fitness".
I am also the proud owner of a contraption of sorts. A sports bra with bells & whistles, hooks & velcro. It feels a little like a chastity belt for my boobs ... I am not yet convinced that prolonged wear won't induce an asthma attack! To say it's a little firm would be an understatement of sorts!
And, I even contacted a friend of mine who regularly goes along with the running group formed by a bunch of people that we work with ... and I have kinda committed to going along tomorrow night. Gulp. A couple of the running club members run marathons every couple of weeks ... for fun! Ha! This is going to be interesting. Fingers crossed I make it home ... without suffering a coronary or a bra induced asthma attack!
Bandit Girl is going to become a runner ... okay, clearly not the stereotypical tall, lithe, lean, long striding runner but one day soon you'll see me out there doing something a lot like running. I would like to think it will be in a manner that will not draw public smirking and finger pointing! But that is a very real possibility.
Who knows ... maybe one day those internet websites on running may have their very own folder labelled "Running". Maybe.
I now own two books on running. "The Complete Book of Running for Women" (Claire Kowalchik) and "Marathon Running for Mortals" (John Bingham & Jenny Hadfield). I have already devoured half of the Claire Kowalchik's book in one day. It is so full of information and inspiration. Just reading makes me want to run! I have trawled the internet for a load of websites on running for women and bookmarked them into my one of my favourites folders labelled "Health & Fitness".
I am also the proud owner of a contraption of sorts. A sports bra with bells & whistles, hooks & velcro. It feels a little like a chastity belt for my boobs ... I am not yet convinced that prolonged wear won't induce an asthma attack! To say it's a little firm would be an understatement of sorts!
And, I even contacted a friend of mine who regularly goes along with the running group formed by a bunch of people that we work with ... and I have kinda committed to going along tomorrow night. Gulp. A couple of the running club members run marathons every couple of weeks ... for fun! Ha! This is going to be interesting. Fingers crossed I make it home ... without suffering a coronary or a bra induced asthma attack!
Bandit Girl is going to become a runner ... okay, clearly not the stereotypical tall, lithe, lean, long striding runner but one day soon you'll see me out there doing something a lot like running. I would like to think it will be in a manner that will not draw public smirking and finger pointing! But that is a very real possibility.
Who knows ... maybe one day those internet websites on running may have their very own folder labelled "Running". Maybe.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Run baby run: Part 1
Right. Hold onto your hat people. I'm inspired. I'm going to run the race for life in July in rememberance of my Grandma and uncle who died of bowel and lung cancer respectively.
It's 5km. I know that may sound like nothing to some of you but I'm determined to be in adequate shape to run the whole bloody thing. And then?
Well, I'm considering running a half marathon. It may not happen this year. Or maybe it will but it would have to be the latter half of the year, as I will need all the time I can to seriously train (hard) and improve my endurance. I don't think there will be any runs here in the UK at the end of the year as it will be winter ... so maybe I'll investigate what half-marathons are scheduled back in Oz.
So, I am now off to Waterstone's bookshop to see if I can find a book on training to run a marathon. I do kind of remember I friend of mine mentioning a book matching this description way back when I considered running to be a sport for the insane. That very well may explain why I can't even vaguely recall the title of the book!
It's 5km. I know that may sound like nothing to some of you but I'm determined to be in adequate shape to run the whole bloody thing. And then?
Well, I'm considering running a half marathon. It may not happen this year. Or maybe it will but it would have to be the latter half of the year, as I will need all the time I can to seriously train (hard) and improve my endurance. I don't think there will be any runs here in the UK at the end of the year as it will be winter ... so maybe I'll investigate what half-marathons are scheduled back in Oz.
So, I am now off to Waterstone's bookshop to see if I can find a book on training to run a marathon. I do kind of remember I friend of mine mentioning a book matching this description way back when I considered running to be a sport for the insane. That very well may explain why I can't even vaguely recall the title of the book!
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The long weekend of boy
8:35am Saturday 17th March
“Fark, fark, fark … move people! I’m running laaaate!”. It was all I could think as I ran through the rabbit warren of the London Underground, like I had a white hot poker up my arse.
8:40am
Passing Costa Coffee in a disheveled mess of blonde hair and pashmina scarf. THE rendezvous point for meeting the boy if I was running late (am I really that unpunctual that we have to make these plans?!). No boy. Thank the Lord! I will be able to meet him off the train.
8:45am
No sign of boy.
8:58am
Still no sign of boy.
Shite it’s cold. Only yesterday it was a pleasant 15 degrees soaked with sun. Today, it’s 3 degrees and overcast. Typical. Welcome to London, enjoy your stay.
9:00am
Switch seats after sleeping hobo gets up and moves off. I figure his seat is going to be much warmer than mine. It’s not. My arse is freezing.
9:10am
Another Gatwick Express train has arrived. That’s a total of three in the time I’ve been here.
Still no boy. Begin to wonder if there was a problem with the flight (his original flight was meant to fly into Heathrow at 6:30am but his flight plan was changed to a direct flight into Gatwick at 7:30am due to some storm on the East coast of the States). Then begin to panic that he has been refused entry to the great British nation because he was traveling on his diplomatic passport. A little naughty but not illegal.
9:20am
Stroll up to look at flight board in front of Gatwick Express ticket office. It only lists departing flights from Gatwick. Dammit!
9:25am
Another train arrives. No boy.
9:30am
Pull out my lugging big book out of lugging big bag (a Mary Poppin’s type carpet bag). I try to read a bit. I read the same sentence four times. I place lugging big book back in lugging big bag.
9:35am
Begin to clean nails. Another train has arrived. And then I see him. He hasn’t seen me. He’s striding up the concourse trailing his very grown up suitcase (he normally carries a duffle bag that is never essentially packed but rather a mish-mash of his travel items!). I can see, even from a distance, he has grown a beard. Umm, what’s that about? Then he spots me.
The rest of Saturday passes in a blur. A beautiful blur. A happy blur.
Saturday night we went to a ridiculously formal restaurant for a date. We had no idea what they were asking or offering us most of the time due to their thick European accents and use of big, fancy pants words! We could barely decipher the menu. And as for the cutlery … well, there was enough there to start our own military operation!
We settled on pink champagne for an aperitif. Grilled crab legs with olive oil and tomato dressing for starters. Whole lobster and a rather fancy beef fillet. The crab legs were to die for! I have never eaten crab legs in my life. They were magic. I could’ve eaten myself into a stupor with them. The lobster was served complete with a magic show (I kid you not!). And the beef was gorgeous. Only problem was that I could only eat four mouthfuls. Even that was a struggle. Rob ended up having to eat two meals – surf and turf - poor possum! Unfortunately I was not able to keep my four mouthfuls down. 29GBP for a bulimic episode sucks. After a latte and a few mouthfuls of chocolate fondant pudding, all was well with the world again.
We did plan on going for a stroll after dinner but it was titty cold. In a sheer stroke of genuis, I was only wearing a cocktail dress, sans stockings and stilettos; hence grand plans of strolling were aborted! I did have my black wool coat on but when only half your body is clothed, you’re hardly going to stay warm! Therefore, there was a brisk dash to the tube station with me repetitively stating the obvious … “Geez, it’s cold”, “It’s really, really cold”, “I’m so frigging cold!”. Just how many ways can you possibly say the same thing, I ask?!
“Fark, fark, fark … move people! I’m running laaaate!”. It was all I could think as I ran through the rabbit warren of the London Underground, like I had a white hot poker up my arse.
8:40am
Passing Costa Coffee in a disheveled mess of blonde hair and pashmina scarf. THE rendezvous point for meeting the boy if I was running late (am I really that unpunctual that we have to make these plans?!). No boy. Thank the Lord! I will be able to meet him off the train.
8:45am
No sign of boy.
8:58am
Still no sign of boy.
Shite it’s cold. Only yesterday it was a pleasant 15 degrees soaked with sun. Today, it’s 3 degrees and overcast. Typical. Welcome to London, enjoy your stay.
9:00am
Switch seats after sleeping hobo gets up and moves off. I figure his seat is going to be much warmer than mine. It’s not. My arse is freezing.
9:10am
Another Gatwick Express train has arrived. That’s a total of three in the time I’ve been here.
Still no boy. Begin to wonder if there was a problem with the flight (his original flight was meant to fly into Heathrow at 6:30am but his flight plan was changed to a direct flight into Gatwick at 7:30am due to some storm on the East coast of the States). Then begin to panic that he has been refused entry to the great British nation because he was traveling on his diplomatic passport. A little naughty but not illegal.
9:20am
Stroll up to look at flight board in front of Gatwick Express ticket office. It only lists departing flights from Gatwick. Dammit!
9:25am
Another train arrives. No boy.
9:30am
Pull out my lugging big book out of lugging big bag (a Mary Poppin’s type carpet bag). I try to read a bit. I read the same sentence four times. I place lugging big book back in lugging big bag.
9:35am
Begin to clean nails. Another train has arrived. And then I see him. He hasn’t seen me. He’s striding up the concourse trailing his very grown up suitcase (he normally carries a duffle bag that is never essentially packed but rather a mish-mash of his travel items!). I can see, even from a distance, he has grown a beard. Umm, what’s that about? Then he spots me.
The rest of Saturday passes in a blur. A beautiful blur. A happy blur.
Saturday night we went to a ridiculously formal restaurant for a date. We had no idea what they were asking or offering us most of the time due to their thick European accents and use of big, fancy pants words! We could barely decipher the menu. And as for the cutlery … well, there was enough there to start our own military operation!
We settled on pink champagne for an aperitif. Grilled crab legs with olive oil and tomato dressing for starters. Whole lobster and a rather fancy beef fillet. The crab legs were to die for! I have never eaten crab legs in my life. They were magic. I could’ve eaten myself into a stupor with them. The lobster was served complete with a magic show (I kid you not!). And the beef was gorgeous. Only problem was that I could only eat four mouthfuls. Even that was a struggle. Rob ended up having to eat two meals – surf and turf - poor possum! Unfortunately I was not able to keep my four mouthfuls down. 29GBP for a bulimic episode sucks. After a latte and a few mouthfuls of chocolate fondant pudding, all was well with the world again.
We did plan on going for a stroll after dinner but it was titty cold. In a sheer stroke of genuis, I was only wearing a cocktail dress, sans stockings and stilettos; hence grand plans of strolling were aborted! I did have my black wool coat on but when only half your body is clothed, you’re hardly going to stay warm! Therefore, there was a brisk dash to the tube station with me repetitively stating the obvious … “Geez, it’s cold”, “It’s really, really cold”, “I’m so frigging cold!”. Just how many ways can you possibly say the same thing, I ask?!
Rob loves pictures of me when I'm laughing! And although this picture is out of focus you can still see that I no longer have a double chin and you can see my collar bones! I love collar bones!
Sunday was essentially a day dedicated to rugby. We jumped a train to Reading and ended up sitting next to a rather peculiar couple (“Asking him if it’s snowing”). Rob had got us tickets to see London Wasps vs London Irish in a big St Patty’s day (or day after!) match. The weather was on the crisp side when we left home but by the time we got to Reading it started sleeting, raining and blowing a gale. I was not a happy camper. At all. I’m sure Rob would rather have had his balls clamped than contend with my stroppy, so not happy countenance. But once we were in the stadium, the wind was almost non-existent and we were mostly under the stadium cover. The seats we had were fantastic. Rob drank Guinness and a little more Guinness.
And as quickly as it started, the weekend was over. Sigh.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Lost & found
LOST: Bandit Girl’s motivation and enthusiasm to kick arse in banishing “the lard”
Item is of sentimental value. Owner is distraught. If found, please contact Bandit Girl on the on the B-phone. Generous reward offered.
Yup. My clever friends, no doubt you've guessed the reason for the absence. I have had a monumental fall off the wagon … and I'm yet to claw my way back on. In the past, I've had very temporary mishaps with the wagon but have managed to get a leg back on before any serious damage was incurred. So what’s happened lately? I’m not sure. I think it’s been a combination of things. Ever since the overfill and consequent ill health, I developed a fear of eating solid food in case I still had the gastric swelling (I know, I know - 4 weeks is more than enough time for these things to resolve and was a poor attempt at an excuse after the first week!). I was eating a lot of ‘soft’ food – known to bandsters as the ‘soft food’ syndrome. This is to be avoided. Not because it’s detrimental to the band but because you can consume more calories than you actually require due to the consistency of the food or high calorie drinks (milkshakes, juice, lattes etc – which is okay just after a fill but not for extended periods). But after the swelling parlava, I was just plain lazy and unmotivated. In generaly, I have also seemed to have got a bit … okay, very blaze. I’ve lost a lot of weight, I feel good about myself and I’m getting sick of continually having to buy clothes and dragging the old stuff down to Good Sam’s on a crowded bus. Yet, I would love to lost another 10-15kgs. So what’s stopping me from just knuckling down and bloody doing it? Sigh.
Added to the melting pot, has been the uncertainty of where life is taking me at the moment and what I'm doing. All this continual sorting, problem solving and fretting over all the ins and outs that are my life on a daily basis has taken up a lot of my emotional and mental energy, which has left me with very little energy or enthusiasm for the shrinkage thing.
But with a little ground work I am in for a spectacular come back!
The ground work has included:
- a decision to stay in London for the time being until the hospital here gets organized with this supposed position in the Middle East or until Rob and I make further plans (I will be sending in my application for the Highly Skilled Migrant Permit on Monday after finally getting all the evidence together that the Home Office needs – which, may I add, is rather extensive! It’s going to cost me around 800GBP for this application with no guarantee that I’ll even be granted the permit in the end even though I well and truly meet the criteria and points required! Gulp!)
- sorting out and some further nesting in my wee apartment (honestly, it’s no bigger than a shoe box!). I have not changed the duvet cover or linen since I moved in over a year ago (Oi! I have indeed washed the linen and duvet cover just not changed the set of linen or cover I’ve been using!). I felt I needed to have a change. So I splashed out and bought some gorgeous Egyptian cotton sheets (300 thread count – oh my gawd, take my word, quality sheets are the bomb to sleep on!) in oyster, some white pillow slips, a couple of new pillows and a new boudoir cushion. I printed out some new photos for my photo frames. I also bought new incense, can opener, vege peeler and flowers. I carted all my heavy linen (duvet, towels, duvet covers, valance, bath mats ra-de-rah-rah) up to the laundromat for a serviced wash. I cleaned the house within an inch of it’s life. I ventured down to Good Sam’s to do another delivery of unwanted goods. And I changed my duvet cover and made up the bed with the new sheets and pillows – I now have a divine bed in white and caramel/oyster. It’s rather noice! So now the house is uber clean and done to minimum stuff levels. I so love not having clutter! It’s funny but when my living space is clean, organised and uncluttered, I find that I, myself – mentally, physically and emotionally - feel the same way. If my living space is completely chaotic for a long period, I find I become out of sync. Strange but true!
- I have, in my hot little hands, a free registration coupon to join Weight Watchers this coming Tuesday. I know this concept may sound strange … you know, joining WW when I have a band but I really need the support and motivation of other people who are also on a weight loss journey. I realize I may struggle with sticking strictly to the WW eating plan due to my low calorie intake and problems digesting certain foods but just to get back on track. It’s not a long term gig – four to six weeks max.
- I have researched alternative yoga class venues. I was attending Bikram yoga but certain classes are so jammed packed that you can hardly move … so I just wanted some alternative venues to practice yoga of some description.
- I have entered all my regular foods into FitDay so I can keep a record of my calorie intake over the next 4 weeks.
The rest of the plan?: - I will make a commitment to myself to exercise regularly for 4 weeks (after the 4 week mark it becomes routine)
- Join WW
- Eat three meals a day plus one-two snacks if required
- Plan meals in advance
- Regular weigh in (WW & home scales)
- Track food (FitDay and in notebook)
- Book for a small fill (.4cc in 3-4 weeks time)
- Keep in regular contact with my mate who also has a band – when we stay in contact we seem to be able to move mountains of pounds!
- PREPARATION!
Oh my gawd! Would you look at that! I have just glimpsed the shiny face of my motivation. Right! I’m off to catch it and bottle it!
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Have you met Miss Jones?
Weight: holding steady
Jars of nutella consumed in last 4 weeks: pass
Days exercised last week: 0
Clothing in my cupboard that fits: less than 20%
Size of undies bought yesterday: 12 (yeah-huh!)
Amount of money spent on looking gorgeous this week: 140GBP (new undies, brazilian & eyebrow wax and hairdresser .. my credit card has taken objection to my melting body. Thank all that's holy for increased credit card limits and bank overdrafts!)
Work: in status quo (suprised?!)
To do list:
Jars of nutella consumed in last 4 weeks: pass
Days exercised last week: 0
Clothing in my cupboard that fits: less than 20%
Size of undies bought yesterday: 12 (yeah-huh!)
Amount of money spent on looking gorgeous this week: 140GBP (new undies, brazilian & eyebrow wax and hairdresser .. my credit card has taken objection to my melting body. Thank all that's holy for increased credit card limits and bank overdrafts!)
Work: in status quo (suprised?!)
To do list:
- End obsession with nutella ... starting tomorrow
- Exercise (is it all coming back to you now, Bandit Girl?)
- Wear the fabric outta my new size 12 undies
- Replace manky head on electric toothbrush
- Banish ridiculously oversized coat to Good Sam's as it makes me look like a knob head drowning in fabric (I could be a dead ringer for that Jeepers Creepers scarecrow dude)
- Shave legs
- Be nice to strangers
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Good luck, good luck
One stroke of damn good luck is all I need. And it couldn’t come soon enough to be completely honest. I’ve been hesitant to post as I am fully aware that my last few posts haven’t been the sparkiest I’ve ever banged out … and this one isn’t overly different.
It’s been a tough couple of weeks. Mind you, it hasn’t all been doom and gloom but it’s been one hell of a rough ride.
WORK:
I’ve mentioned work stuff in passing a couple of times since my blog’s inception but never in a terrible lot of depth. But it seems to have become a subject that I’ve mentioned a fair bit of late. I guess the increasingly frequent references to work/gaining employment may give you a subtle hint as to the reason for my ‘life headache’ at present.
Over the past 6 months, Rob and I have been toying with what to do in regards to work and relocation. Our first plan was for him to get a job in Kuwait. I was to join him shortly after he settled into his new job and we’d be happily re-united, never to be parted again. Simple enough plan, huh? You would think so but no. Rob secured a contract with a company in Kuwait. He relocated from Saudi to Kuwait in September of last year. Once we knew he had a job in Kuwait, I started job hunting. I knocked on every imaginable door. I have spent almost 6 months sending emails, making phonecalls, distributing my CV to anyone and everyone who offered to take it with them to Kuwait (patient’s relatives, international PR representatives from my hospital who frequently visited Kuwait), sending faxes, writing proposals, attending meetings and finally, flying to Kuwait personally. All of this has been to pretty much no avail. Sorry, I stand corrected. One hospital in Kuwait made an offer. They were keen to hire me for the grand sum of 1000 USD per month which is peanuts professionally for my experience and, after staying in Kuwait for a week, wouldn’t stretch very far at all. Besides which, the hospital itself looked like an old missionary building. It was falling down, plaster crumbling off the walls, plastic plants covered with inch thick dust and had a generally unkempt feel to it. I shuddered at first glance. I knew I could never work there and certainly wouldn’t be happy going to work each morning.
In June last year, the hospital I currently work for told me they were thinking about setting up a post in the Middle East and felt I would be the most suitable candidate for a number of reasons: a) I had lived in the Middle East previously, b) I worked for and understood how the London hospital operated, c) I speak Arabic, d) I want to be in the Middle East and e) I have a partner who I would be with (as they were concerned about sending a single female into the position). I was told that it was likely to be up and running by the end of the year. It’s now February and the project is still no further than it was back then. Okay that’s not quite true. I have been reassured that it is DEFINITELY going ahead. The logistics and legalities including establishing the parameters of my contract and salary/benefits are supposedly underway. But … it still feels like everything is at a standstill as I have not seen anything in writing.
In the first meeting I had with management at my hospital regarding the position, I was pushing for the position to be based in Kuwait as at the time Rob and I were still set on me joining him there. Management stated they felt the position would be better suited to being set up in the UAE due to the Ministry of Health from the UAE had been in strong favour of the hospital setting up a branch and the Kuwait Ministry of Health was yet to be convinced.
Because of all the to and fro-ing the hospital was doing, Rob and I discussed returning to Saudi together. I contacted a number of recruitment agents and found one that recruited to one of the better hospitals in Riyadh. Within two weeks I had a job interview and a job! Rob then said he would apply to the US military outpost in Riyadh to see if there were any civilian positions he could take up. He too was offered a job quite soon after expressing interest.
So, we then were faced with a dilemma. Do we hang out to see if I’m posted to Kuwait with my hospital or accept the jobs we were offered in Saudi? We had to make a decision BEFORE I visited Kuwait. I knew Rob wasn’t that excited about his current job in Kuwait. I knew the job in Saudi had really piqued his interest. We agreed that Rob would take the job in Saudi (which would benefit his career and training) and I would, with a little good luck and management, take the position that my hospital was proposing in the UAE (as it would help diversify my career and job opportunities plus it would be an exciting challenge). We discussed this being the plan for the next 6 months. There was just one little problem.
The hospital in Saudi was in the process of securing a letter of no objection from my previous hospital (there is a law in Saudi that after you cease a contract for one employer, you are obliged to that employer for two years post end of contract; should you wish to return and work for another employer within that time frame, a letter of no objection/release is required from your previous place of employment. If a letter cannot be obtained, you cannot work for a new employer until after the two year period). I told Rob that I was in knots over what to do. What if the hospital got the letter (which they told me shouldn’t be a problem)? How would I turn down the position when 6 months later I was hoping to go to Saudi? I was torn. I wanted the hospital to get the letter and at the same time I didn’t so I could accept my current hospital’s proposed position without feeling bad. I tell you. Be careful what you wish for. After the trip to Kuwait, I still had not heard anything back regarding how things were progressing with the Saudi thing. I sent an email to the Head of OT to see if she had a handle on what was going on.
It was at this point I became so fed up with my hospital’s promises that I said to Rob that I was just going to go ahead with the Saudi job. But then I got the email that changed everything and has left me feeling completely shattered and aghast. I was told that I letter could not be obtained. Not only that but my previous employer in Saudi had given me an unfavourable reference. WHAT THE? I asked if they had got the right personnel file. It just didn’t make sense. My ceasation of employment with my previous Saudi hospital was amicable. I completed my contract – I was not fired. I had never had any disciplinary action against me. I was given a pay rise. I resigned after a year and rescinded my resignation and was contracted back without issue. And if I had anything to hide, would I have agreed to them checking into my personnel file at my previous Saudi workplace? So, where did this unfavourable reference come from? Well, as far as I can work out, it was generated by the department bully. The Head of Physiotherapy. She never liked me … for a variety of reasons all of them personal, none of them professional. What can you do when someone just doesn’t like you? Not much. But not only did she not like me but she bullied me and harassed me to tears most days. It was the main reason for me leaving and coming to London – before I fell apart and had some type of nervous breakdown. This conniving rat (whom I am so tempted to name) has now influenced a prospective employer’s perspective and opinion of me. It is unlikely the new hospital will hire me even after the two year obligatory period is up based on this reference (which I am yet to find out what exactly was said … I am so angry that my prospective employer knows something about me that not even I do) even though every other workplace reference is favourable (do we not see an inconsistency here?!). I am considering taking legal action against this spineless, nasty, sad human being. I would be able to sue for defamation of character and God help me, if I can’t iron this out myself, I will take her on. No one messes with my professional reputation and livelihood without expecting a fight. I hope this woman’s karma train comes around really soon.
So, the whole work thing remains up in the air. I have been requested to put a salary proposal on the department manager’s desk next Friday and find out the ins/outs of working in the Middle East (visas and setting up a business). I just have to keep my fingers crossed that all this will come together in the very near future. That very near future has only 8 weeks left on it’s working visa! *Gulp*
ROB:
The week in Kuwait with Rob was wonderful but the time went way too quickly. Rob was rather amazed at my recent weight loss and toning. The funniest thing he said to me was, “Your head is so small!”. I’ve lost a lot of weight off my face which makes it (& my head?!) look smaller. He constantly told me how beautiful I was – it meant the world to me. Don’t get me wrong, he has always told me I’m beautiful … but now that I’m losing weight and feeling much better about myself, I’m starting to believe the things he tells me.
I miss Rob. I’m so angry that the option to be with him in Saudi has been taken away from us by the aforementioned prat.
HEALTH:
And as for the weight loss thingy. I put on a kilo while in Kuwait with Rob but in the two weeks I’ve been back I have lost 2.6kgs. This is mainly due to an overtight fill. Yeah-huh. It was super tight. To the point where I was constantly in pain. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t drink (except for 1 ½ glasses of water over a 14 hour period). I couldn’t sleep. When I would try to sleep, it was in a seated position due to reflux and vomitting. I aspirated on some of the contents of my pouch two nights in a row and ended up with a chest infection. The secretions from my chest infection were thick and gluey. I was told to take antibiotics and drink more water to make the secretions more fluid to get them out of my body. Ha! I couldn’t take my antibiotic or loosen up the secretions by drinking more fluids because I was flat out getting a mouthful of water down!
I had 1.2cc removed on Saturday. Which means I had the previous weekend’s fill (1cc) and then some removed. What a waste of cash and time! The doctor was concerned about the state I was in when I arrived at the surgery. He advised me to have the entire contents of my band removed and start from scratch in a week or two. What?! That would mean I would have to build up the amount in the band again and pay for all six fills! Financially, I couldn’t afford to do that. So, as a compromise he took out what he did and advised if things don’t improve I would have to have the band completely emptied, which I agreed with … IF it didn’t improve. He has kindly said he would do the next fill free of charge. Bless him. He’s not the kind of guy to give favours or exceptions either.
I am now feeling 1000% better. I have been drinking water for England. I have been able to get all my tablets including the antibiotic down without incident. I am able to eat again albeit much smaller portions than prior to my fill two weeks ago (even though I have less fluid in my band!). I am able to sleep. And flat out like a lizard too! I have no reflux. No vomiting. My headaches have gone and my chest infection is starting to budge (I think).
***
So, all I need now is a hefty stroke of good luck! Things can only get better from here … surely!
It’s been a tough couple of weeks. Mind you, it hasn’t all been doom and gloom but it’s been one hell of a rough ride.
WORK:
I’ve mentioned work stuff in passing a couple of times since my blog’s inception but never in a terrible lot of depth. But it seems to have become a subject that I’ve mentioned a fair bit of late. I guess the increasingly frequent references to work/gaining employment may give you a subtle hint as to the reason for my ‘life headache’ at present.
Over the past 6 months, Rob and I have been toying with what to do in regards to work and relocation. Our first plan was for him to get a job in Kuwait. I was to join him shortly after he settled into his new job and we’d be happily re-united, never to be parted again. Simple enough plan, huh? You would think so but no. Rob secured a contract with a company in Kuwait. He relocated from Saudi to Kuwait in September of last year. Once we knew he had a job in Kuwait, I started job hunting. I knocked on every imaginable door. I have spent almost 6 months sending emails, making phonecalls, distributing my CV to anyone and everyone who offered to take it with them to Kuwait (patient’s relatives, international PR representatives from my hospital who frequently visited Kuwait), sending faxes, writing proposals, attending meetings and finally, flying to Kuwait personally. All of this has been to pretty much no avail. Sorry, I stand corrected. One hospital in Kuwait made an offer. They were keen to hire me for the grand sum of 1000 USD per month which is peanuts professionally for my experience and, after staying in Kuwait for a week, wouldn’t stretch very far at all. Besides which, the hospital itself looked like an old missionary building. It was falling down, plaster crumbling off the walls, plastic plants covered with inch thick dust and had a generally unkempt feel to it. I shuddered at first glance. I knew I could never work there and certainly wouldn’t be happy going to work each morning.
In June last year, the hospital I currently work for told me they were thinking about setting up a post in the Middle East and felt I would be the most suitable candidate for a number of reasons: a) I had lived in the Middle East previously, b) I worked for and understood how the London hospital operated, c) I speak Arabic, d) I want to be in the Middle East and e) I have a partner who I would be with (as they were concerned about sending a single female into the position). I was told that it was likely to be up and running by the end of the year. It’s now February and the project is still no further than it was back then. Okay that’s not quite true. I have been reassured that it is DEFINITELY going ahead. The logistics and legalities including establishing the parameters of my contract and salary/benefits are supposedly underway. But … it still feels like everything is at a standstill as I have not seen anything in writing.
In the first meeting I had with management at my hospital regarding the position, I was pushing for the position to be based in Kuwait as at the time Rob and I were still set on me joining him there. Management stated they felt the position would be better suited to being set up in the UAE due to the Ministry of Health from the UAE had been in strong favour of the hospital setting up a branch and the Kuwait Ministry of Health was yet to be convinced.
Because of all the to and fro-ing the hospital was doing, Rob and I discussed returning to Saudi together. I contacted a number of recruitment agents and found one that recruited to one of the better hospitals in Riyadh. Within two weeks I had a job interview and a job! Rob then said he would apply to the US military outpost in Riyadh to see if there were any civilian positions he could take up. He too was offered a job quite soon after expressing interest.
So, we then were faced with a dilemma. Do we hang out to see if I’m posted to Kuwait with my hospital or accept the jobs we were offered in Saudi? We had to make a decision BEFORE I visited Kuwait. I knew Rob wasn’t that excited about his current job in Kuwait. I knew the job in Saudi had really piqued his interest. We agreed that Rob would take the job in Saudi (which would benefit his career and training) and I would, with a little good luck and management, take the position that my hospital was proposing in the UAE (as it would help diversify my career and job opportunities plus it would be an exciting challenge). We discussed this being the plan for the next 6 months. There was just one little problem.
The hospital in Saudi was in the process of securing a letter of no objection from my previous hospital (there is a law in Saudi that after you cease a contract for one employer, you are obliged to that employer for two years post end of contract; should you wish to return and work for another employer within that time frame, a letter of no objection/release is required from your previous place of employment. If a letter cannot be obtained, you cannot work for a new employer until after the two year period). I told Rob that I was in knots over what to do. What if the hospital got the letter (which they told me shouldn’t be a problem)? How would I turn down the position when 6 months later I was hoping to go to Saudi? I was torn. I wanted the hospital to get the letter and at the same time I didn’t so I could accept my current hospital’s proposed position without feeling bad. I tell you. Be careful what you wish for. After the trip to Kuwait, I still had not heard anything back regarding how things were progressing with the Saudi thing. I sent an email to the Head of OT to see if she had a handle on what was going on.
It was at this point I became so fed up with my hospital’s promises that I said to Rob that I was just going to go ahead with the Saudi job. But then I got the email that changed everything and has left me feeling completely shattered and aghast. I was told that I letter could not be obtained. Not only that but my previous employer in Saudi had given me an unfavourable reference. WHAT THE? I asked if they had got the right personnel file. It just didn’t make sense. My ceasation of employment with my previous Saudi hospital was amicable. I completed my contract – I was not fired. I had never had any disciplinary action against me. I was given a pay rise. I resigned after a year and rescinded my resignation and was contracted back without issue. And if I had anything to hide, would I have agreed to them checking into my personnel file at my previous Saudi workplace? So, where did this unfavourable reference come from? Well, as far as I can work out, it was generated by the department bully. The Head of Physiotherapy. She never liked me … for a variety of reasons all of them personal, none of them professional. What can you do when someone just doesn’t like you? Not much. But not only did she not like me but she bullied me and harassed me to tears most days. It was the main reason for me leaving and coming to London – before I fell apart and had some type of nervous breakdown. This conniving rat (whom I am so tempted to name) has now influenced a prospective employer’s perspective and opinion of me. It is unlikely the new hospital will hire me even after the two year obligatory period is up based on this reference (which I am yet to find out what exactly was said … I am so angry that my prospective employer knows something about me that not even I do) even though every other workplace reference is favourable (do we not see an inconsistency here?!). I am considering taking legal action against this spineless, nasty, sad human being. I would be able to sue for defamation of character and God help me, if I can’t iron this out myself, I will take her on. No one messes with my professional reputation and livelihood without expecting a fight. I hope this woman’s karma train comes around really soon.
So, the whole work thing remains up in the air. I have been requested to put a salary proposal on the department manager’s desk next Friday and find out the ins/outs of working in the Middle East (visas and setting up a business). I just have to keep my fingers crossed that all this will come together in the very near future. That very near future has only 8 weeks left on it’s working visa! *Gulp*
ROB:
The week in Kuwait with Rob was wonderful but the time went way too quickly. Rob was rather amazed at my recent weight loss and toning. The funniest thing he said to me was, “Your head is so small!”. I’ve lost a lot of weight off my face which makes it (& my head?!) look smaller. He constantly told me how beautiful I was – it meant the world to me. Don’t get me wrong, he has always told me I’m beautiful … but now that I’m losing weight and feeling much better about myself, I’m starting to believe the things he tells me.
I miss Rob. I’m so angry that the option to be with him in Saudi has been taken away from us by the aforementioned prat.
HEALTH:
And as for the weight loss thingy. I put on a kilo while in Kuwait with Rob but in the two weeks I’ve been back I have lost 2.6kgs. This is mainly due to an overtight fill. Yeah-huh. It was super tight. To the point where I was constantly in pain. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t drink (except for 1 ½ glasses of water over a 14 hour period). I couldn’t sleep. When I would try to sleep, it was in a seated position due to reflux and vomitting. I aspirated on some of the contents of my pouch two nights in a row and ended up with a chest infection. The secretions from my chest infection were thick and gluey. I was told to take antibiotics and drink more water to make the secretions more fluid to get them out of my body. Ha! I couldn’t take my antibiotic or loosen up the secretions by drinking more fluids because I was flat out getting a mouthful of water down!
I had 1.2cc removed on Saturday. Which means I had the previous weekend’s fill (1cc) and then some removed. What a waste of cash and time! The doctor was concerned about the state I was in when I arrived at the surgery. He advised me to have the entire contents of my band removed and start from scratch in a week or two. What?! That would mean I would have to build up the amount in the band again and pay for all six fills! Financially, I couldn’t afford to do that. So, as a compromise he took out what he did and advised if things don’t improve I would have to have the band completely emptied, which I agreed with … IF it didn’t improve. He has kindly said he would do the next fill free of charge. Bless him. He’s not the kind of guy to give favours or exceptions either.
I am now feeling 1000% better. I have been drinking water for England. I have been able to get all my tablets including the antibiotic down without incident. I am able to eat again albeit much smaller portions than prior to my fill two weeks ago (even though I have less fluid in my band!). I am able to sleep. And flat out like a lizard too! I have no reflux. No vomiting. My headaches have gone and my chest infection is starting to budge (I think).
***
So, all I need now is a hefty stroke of good luck! Things can only get better from here … surely!
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Gravity's got my ta-tas
It's weird.
In my head I KNOW my body has changed significantly over the past 6 months. I mean, for the love of all things holy, I have dropped nearly 20kg. Not something to be sneezed at. But ...
I still have days where I feel yuck and lardy in my own skin. I feel like nothing has changed ... that I am still a hefty 96.4kg. I feel like a huge failure. I feel like my bloody body isn't playing fair. And I revert to previous habits ... like having an intimate knowledge of family size block of chocolate. For shame. Admittedly, these episodes are now very few and far between ... all the same, when it happens it rocks me to the core.
This week has been stressful. My job has been extremely intense and, most unusual for me, I have taken patient problems home with me ... I have found myself laying in the dark mulling stuff over in my head and turning myself into knots. On top of this - or probably because of this! - I have had incredible back and sciatic pain for the last two days (today I sported the uber sexy 'Dick Wicks' magnetic back brace under my work pants ... I felt like a complete freak and had to pee like a pregnant woman all day because the brace was pushing directly onto my bladder!). Because of the back pain and worry ... I haven't slept for two nights. And because of my poorly back and lack of energy, I haven't been to the gym or yoga in two days. I feel rather blah. It's been a bit of a vicious circle really.
On Tuesday, I found myself really struggling with my body image. As I stood in front of the mirror in the yoga studio stretching and pushing my body hard ... instead of appreciating how hard my body was working, I started picking fault with it. All I could see were these lardy tricep wings. Like two doughy loaves of bread hanging down as I got into the warrior position. I glanced around the room and all I saw were lovely sculpted arms. My heart sunk. I then bent forward into the triangle pose to stretch my hamstrings ... and I couldn't help but notice the muscle bunching on my back (due to my scoliosis). It looked repulsive (but which, to be fair, has improved since I started to yoga but will obviously never be completely normal). My heart sunk even further. After class, in the crowded change room, fraught with bras and panties, bare bottoms and bobbing bossoms ... I snuck a peek at my fellow yoga comrades. I envied the pert bottoms, flat stomachs and perky breasts with nipples located where God intended them. It only served to make me feel wretched. My bum is wide but flat. It's starting to get a little roundness going but it's never going to rival J.Lo. My stomach on the other hand, continues to be round ... I know it's shrinking but is it ever going to be flat? Am I ever going to be able to wear a string bikini or tiny g-string without having a roll that prevents the skimpy material from sitting flat on my body? Hey, do you think God made me the wrong way around? You know, flat bum and round tummy ... when it should be the other way?! Bugger. And then there's my boobs. They rival those of an African tribeswoman who has never worn a bra for a day in her life ... mine, however, have been bound and gagged since they appeared and yet they have sagged terribly. I can't even blame the sag on having fed the hungry mouths of babes. Gravity just got hold of my ta-ta's and has steadfastily refused to let go. I would so love to have perky not pendulous breasts. The ever gorgeous Rob has said to me if I feel at the end of the weight loss parlava, I'd like my boobs to be augmented/lifted, he'd cough up. Well baby, you'd better just start saving!
So, in a nut shell (Help! I'm in a nutshell! - Austin Powers) I have had a blah week.
In my head I KNOW my body has changed significantly over the past 6 months. I mean, for the love of all things holy, I have dropped nearly 20kg. Not something to be sneezed at. But ...
I still have days where I feel yuck and lardy in my own skin. I feel like nothing has changed ... that I am still a hefty 96.4kg. I feel like a huge failure. I feel like my bloody body isn't playing fair. And I revert to previous habits ... like having an intimate knowledge of family size block of chocolate. For shame. Admittedly, these episodes are now very few and far between ... all the same, when it happens it rocks me to the core.
This week has been stressful. My job has been extremely intense and, most unusual for me, I have taken patient problems home with me ... I have found myself laying in the dark mulling stuff over in my head and turning myself into knots. On top of this - or probably because of this! - I have had incredible back and sciatic pain for the last two days (today I sported the uber sexy 'Dick Wicks' magnetic back brace under my work pants ... I felt like a complete freak and had to pee like a pregnant woman all day because the brace was pushing directly onto my bladder!). Because of the back pain and worry ... I haven't slept for two nights. And because of my poorly back and lack of energy, I haven't been to the gym or yoga in two days. I feel rather blah. It's been a bit of a vicious circle really.
On Tuesday, I found myself really struggling with my body image. As I stood in front of the mirror in the yoga studio stretching and pushing my body hard ... instead of appreciating how hard my body was working, I started picking fault with it. All I could see were these lardy tricep wings. Like two doughy loaves of bread hanging down as I got into the warrior position. I glanced around the room and all I saw were lovely sculpted arms. My heart sunk. I then bent forward into the triangle pose to stretch my hamstrings ... and I couldn't help but notice the muscle bunching on my back (due to my scoliosis). It looked repulsive (but which, to be fair, has improved since I started to yoga but will obviously never be completely normal). My heart sunk even further. After class, in the crowded change room, fraught with bras and panties, bare bottoms and bobbing bossoms ... I snuck a peek at my fellow yoga comrades. I envied the pert bottoms, flat stomachs and perky breasts with nipples located where God intended them. It only served to make me feel wretched. My bum is wide but flat. It's starting to get a little roundness going but it's never going to rival J.Lo. My stomach on the other hand, continues to be round ... I know it's shrinking but is it ever going to be flat? Am I ever going to be able to wear a string bikini or tiny g-string without having a roll that prevents the skimpy material from sitting flat on my body? Hey, do you think God made me the wrong way around? You know, flat bum and round tummy ... when it should be the other way?! Bugger. And then there's my boobs. They rival those of an African tribeswoman who has never worn a bra for a day in her life ... mine, however, have been bound and gagged since they appeared and yet they have sagged terribly. I can't even blame the sag on having fed the hungry mouths of babes. Gravity just got hold of my ta-ta's and has steadfastily refused to let go. I would so love to have perky not pendulous breasts. The ever gorgeous Rob has said to me if I feel at the end of the weight loss parlava, I'd like my boobs to be augmented/lifted, he'd cough up. Well baby, you'd better just start saving!
So, in a nut shell (Help! I'm in a nutshell! - Austin Powers) I have had a blah week.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Note to self ... and the old man on the escalator
Note to self: bursting into song while listening to your Ipod, checking out your arse in the nearby mirror while running on the treadmill is only acceptable if no other patrons are around to gain side splitting entertainment at your expense! I know you thought you were lip syncing … but clearly you weren’t.
Note to old man on the escalator at Baker St Tube Station: dude, what was with all that butt clenching action on the escalator this morning? Can I point out that your arse was 8 inches from my face and in my direct line of vision. It looked like you were suffering from a thread worm infection or were busting for the loo. Either way … it was dead unattractive!
Note to old man on the escalator at Baker St Tube Station: dude, what was with all that butt clenching action on the escalator this morning? Can I point out that your arse was 8 inches from my face and in my direct line of vision. It looked like you were suffering from a thread worm infection or were busting for the loo. Either way … it was dead unattractive!
Sunday, January 21, 2007
30kg and black bin bags
I shed almost 30kg today.
30kg of fat clothes, shoes that are now one size too big, cheap/old linen covered in pills, trashy novels, unused makeup and a busted curling iron … amongst other things.
5 big black bin bags in total.
As a delivered the last of my payload onto the floor of my local Good Samaritan’s --blowing a stray piece of hair from my face and wiping away a bead of sweat from my forehead (lugging bulging bins bags via public transport really works up a sweat!) -- I felt a sense of achievement. It’s strange how ridding your life of clutter gives you a feeling of freedom and a fresh start ... parting with a wardrobe of plus size clothes, knowing you’ll never be wearing a dress size above the national average … well, that my friend, gives you wings!
In the coming months, Good Sam’s is sure to make me their patron saint what with all the contributions I’ll be making … as I’m rapidly shrinking and have a taste for paring down my worldly belongings …and besides, I need to start preparing for an overseas move … back to the Middle East!
30kg of fat clothes, shoes that are now one size too big, cheap/old linen covered in pills, trashy novels, unused makeup and a busted curling iron … amongst other things.
5 big black bin bags in total.
As a delivered the last of my payload onto the floor of my local Good Samaritan’s --blowing a stray piece of hair from my face and wiping away a bead of sweat from my forehead (lugging bulging bins bags via public transport really works up a sweat!) -- I felt a sense of achievement. It’s strange how ridding your life of clutter gives you a feeling of freedom and a fresh start ... parting with a wardrobe of plus size clothes, knowing you’ll never be wearing a dress size above the national average … well, that my friend, gives you wings!
In the coming months, Good Sam’s is sure to make me their patron saint what with all the contributions I’ll be making … as I’m rapidly shrinking and have a taste for paring down my worldly belongings …and besides, I need to start preparing for an overseas move … back to the Middle East!
Monday, January 15, 2007
The art of eating
I check out a few lap band forums from time to time and have noticed that 'bandsters' seem to go on about SV and NSV a helluva lot. What?! For shame, you don't know what SV and NSV stands for? Gawd love us .... neither did I for about 4 months until a soul braver than I asked what the hell it meant! Simply put: scale victory and non scale victory.
I have a non scale victory. It may not be significant to some but to me it means ... well, it means a lot. I can now eat like a normal person without sliming after EVERY bloody mouthful. I have mastered the art of eating! Up until recently, I found myself sliming every time I ate ... every mouthful, every meal. Guaranteed. No exceptions. Each time I would internally sigh to myself and think that that was how it was to be for the rest of my life with the band. But! I have noticed of late that the number of times I slime has sharply declined. I now might find I have a slime once a day - mostly on new foods or food combinations - and some days ... if I'm dead lucky, I don't slime at all! This seemingly small improvement is a huge step toward being a normal, healthy, sociable being! One who can eat out with the girls without drawing un-neccessary attention to one's self. A huge relief - trust me!
I have a non scale victory. It may not be significant to some but to me it means ... well, it means a lot. I can now eat like a normal person without sliming after EVERY bloody mouthful. I have mastered the art of eating! Up until recently, I found myself sliming every time I ate ... every mouthful, every meal. Guaranteed. No exceptions. Each time I would internally sigh to myself and think that that was how it was to be for the rest of my life with the band. But! I have noticed of late that the number of times I slime has sharply declined. I now might find I have a slime once a day - mostly on new foods or food combinations - and some days ... if I'm dead lucky, I don't slime at all! This seemingly small improvement is a huge step toward being a normal, healthy, sociable being! One who can eat out with the girls without drawing un-neccessary attention to one's self. A huge relief - trust me!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
*Wonder Woman faints, giddy with excitement*
Oh. My. Gawd!
Look at what the scales read this morning!
Boys and girls, in all honesty I cannot remember when I last weighed 70-something kilograms. It was so exciting to see those numbers on the scales that I laughed, screamed and well up with tears. I was on the phone to Rob and my mum within seconds (following a second weigh just to make sure I'd got it right!). I'm sure I sounded like a raving lunatic! But bless them - they were both so happy for me.
I had plan to write about a stack of other things today but this momentous milestone takes precedent over all else. Admittedly, this milestone is about 4 weeks later than I hoped but what with Christmas and all ... who really cares! I've achieved it all the same! I still can barely believe it. I have finally cracked the 80 point something weight (which is the lightest I've ever been in my adult years even when I've been going hard core at losing weight).
Look at what the scales read this morning!
Boys and girls, in all honesty I cannot remember when I last weighed 70-something kilograms. It was so exciting to see those numbers on the scales that I laughed, screamed and well up with tears. I was on the phone to Rob and my mum within seconds (following a second weigh just to make sure I'd got it right!). I'm sure I sounded like a raving lunatic! But bless them - they were both so happy for me.
I had plan to write about a stack of other things today but this momentous milestone takes precedent over all else. Admittedly, this milestone is about 4 weeks later than I hoped but what with Christmas and all ... who really cares! I've achieved it all the same! I still can barely believe it. I have finally cracked the 80 point something weight (which is the lightest I've ever been in my adult years even when I've been going hard core at losing weight).
"Take pride in how far you have come and have faith in how far you can go!"
- Christian Larson
Monday, January 01, 2007
New Year's To-Do List (Resolution-free)
My to-do list for 2007 is rather lengthy but considering one has 365 days in which to achieve it ... reasonable. Don't feel compelled to read my to-do list ... it's really more for my own reference than for keeping you all rivetted!
RELATIONSHIPS:
Rob:
RELATIONSHIPS:
Rob:
- Move to Kuwait/Saudi Arabia – set up a home
Family:
- Send photos, notes, cards (once a month)
- Regular phone calls
Friends:
- Nuture friendships – phone calls, emails, text messages
- Ensure all friend’s birthday dates are in Birthday Alert – send small surprise
FINANCES:
- See financial planner – superannuation account & transfer National Insurance contributions
- File tax return (UK)
- Under 100 GBP on UK credit card
- Savings (specific target)
HEALTH:
- Follow up appointment with spinal surgeon (May)
- Appointment with gynae doctor
- Health check with GP
- Appointment with dentist and dental hygienist (x2)
- Appointment with orthodontist
- ?counselling
- Gym (3-4 per week - try 3 morning sessions) – weight training and running
- Bikram yoga – increase core strength and flexibility
- Aim for weight to be approximately 69-70kg
EATING:
- Cut (not eliminate!) coffee to three per week
- Increase green tea and miso soup intake
- Swap milk chocolate for 70% cocoa chocolate
- Take multivitamin regularly
BEAUTY:
- Hairdresser (every 6-8 weeks)
- Beautician (every 4-6 weeks) – pedicure, waxing, facials
- Massage (every 4 weeks)
- Practice applying makeup
- Learn to style hair
- Try: acupuncture and manual lymphatic drainage
TRAVEL:
- One long trip (4-5 weeks)
- Medium length trip (2-3 weeks) – Japan, Thailand
- Weekend/short tirps – Poland, Sweden, Italy
HOBBIES:
- Practice and improve photography
- Learn/practice: Arabic and Spanish languages
- Improve cooking skills
- Learn to draw/sketch
- Scuba dive regularly
- ?dance classes (belly dancing & latin)
TRAINING/QUALIFICATIONS:
- OT CPD (tertiary course/online study)
- English teaching certificate
- ?massage qualification
OTHER:
- Decrease possessions --- especially fat clothes!
Some list, huh?!
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