Aah yes, sadly as I previously confessed, my new years resolutions fell of my wagon ages ago. Trying ever so hard to beat the flabby, saggy gravity inviting pull of age I have yet again decided to torture myself in trying to stick to some form of diet and exercise. Monday generally being the start of most tortures things, I allocated mine to the start of my new regime.
Mind you that I am equipped with a secret weapon or two in the glorious form of an endearing friend and baby sister that is a personal trainer. My friend and I will try and resume some form of walking, I suggested trying a light jog, but my subconscious mind has been flagging the idea with images of us having to phone for help as we lay on the side of the road in need of water and transport.
My sister suggested her most favorite form of exercise using resistance bands and small weights. I’m getting heart palpetations already and I can seriously feel the impact on my body just contemplating the very idea…but exercise seems definite and I’ll give it a go. Other than exercise, I’m dedicating myself to all things sadly deprived of a sugar content 😦 oh yes, the cherry on this very unsatisfyingly dreary cake is that consumption of water will commence aswell.
(BIG SIGH) If all I get out of this scoundress deal is glowing skin and better all over energy, then it might be worth it. I will however undoubtedly fill my body with all things gloriously sweet over the weekend making sure my hamster cheeks store as much sugary delights as possible! I’ll also have pudding at my monthly book club get together as these are undeniably to scrumptious to say no to.
So holding thumbs for myself, hope to at least make it through one week 😉
I’m contemplating subjecting by body to science… Haven’t decided yet, but considering. This year has truly marked the spot on my life calendar where I can see a very clear and distinct dulling effect in my skin. Sure I’m constantly poisoning it by not drinking enough water and forever having overdoses of sugar, but still it is sadingly depressing.
Besides the dulling, forever crevasse forming skin, every other part of my body seems to be on a frantic race to see which can sag down the quickest. Sigh… What to do? So, grabbed this book I have on Yoga and flipped through it to see if anything seems worth trying.
Under the steps and bla-d-bla, they say “if your body hurts at any point you should stop” … Well I can tell you now, looking at those moves, this body will hurt. Now does that mean I should stop before I start? I think so.
Another depressing reality is my boobs sudden urge to stretch themselves as far down as they can possibly go…I reckon I should start tracking their descent by taking yearly measurements from nipple to toe.
I will with absolution start going on a sugar diet … After all the party sweets are done … And try to have at least a glass or two of water in addition to heart health increasing amounts of exercise 😦
So my contribution to science will be to see if the effects of moderate exercise and no dieting other than less sugar and more water will improve my almost deadly looking dull skin and saggy boobs.
Now off to go measure I go… Hi ho hi ho ladi da tidi da da da
I fear public toilets. No matter how shiny the tiles or floors, they somehow still manage to make me cringe. I read once that more germs are found on the handles of the first and last toilet cubicles as most people prefer the nearest toilet, or I suppose try to get further away depending on their supposed need.
Naturally I avoid these, but no matter where I decide to go I try to make contact with the germ infested handle using the least amount of skin possible.
Then there is the toilet seat… Gag… Using the sanitary wipes is only a small solution as the mere thought of possibly wiping someone else’s vile germs off also make me cringe.
I hate the whole process and only go when I feel close to bursting with need. The thing that bothers me the most is undoubtedly entering a full bathroom and knowing that whichever cubicle I will have to enter, someone would have been in there seconds before me…I can’t help scrutinizing my predecessor, and a image of that bum adorning the toilet seat I have to use.
It really is gross if you think about it! So unless you have absolutely no other choice and you have to go, my advise is simple, squat or refrain from having too many beverages!
So…the debate, to wax or not to wax… There is a kaleidoscope of opinions on this topic… What to get, what not…which pain meds to take beforehand, anaesthetic creams to put on, or which alcoholic beverage will work best to numb the pain and for that matter the embarrassment.. So at an evening out with a bunch of friends, we joked around about the topic as one of the ladies present has a Spa. There are those moments where the pure imagined thought of the whole process of someone taking hot wax, plonking it on all your oh-so-sensitive areas, is just too vivid, and you can almost already feel the stinging pain in all the tender spots as your born-to-be-hairy areas are stripped and taken back to their innocent, juvenile look. I have a personal opinion that less is just sooo much more. Men do not understand the physical pain and psychological scarring us as women go through to rid ourselves of our ancient body coverings. I feel they should do a couples package, him and her waxes…and I do NOT mean a back wax for him … make a mental note if you’re a man, it will serve you well in the future
I reckon most if not all women at some point experience the symptoms of age. You get that feeling of your boobs losing all their precious volume. They become lifeless, start their decent to the dreaded South Pole. Nothing that a good valued under-wire, padded – even double padded bra cannot disguise. I can handle that, I can even handle the prospects of having bloodhound cheeks… you know, those little pieces of saggy cheek that positions themselves nicely next to your mouth. It runs in my family you see…bloodhound, hamster cheeks. But for that there are many fabulous non-surgical procedures, so that I can handle as well…. But, and this is definitely a butt, what I hate beyond a doubt is that feeling I get when I run…. Or not really even run, more of a light trot across the road to my car. You see, it is not the feeling of boobs bouncing up and down or breathlessness or any of those common occurrences…far worse. It’s the feeling of my tush cheeks being oh so gloriously flabby, bouncing up and down and feeling as if they are almost smacking me on the back. Depressingly depressive and with one solution only… (Other than the painfully, bloodied surgical procedures) and that is to simply not run, or trot even. Briskly walking is the new “run “thing… Make a mental note