No Promises

People ask me why I smoke.

Well, I picked up smoking because I was betrayed. Up until the age of 18, I had no idea what it meant to have your trust broken and your belief in another human shattered. Sure, I had faced disappointments before but losing out in a track and field meet or finding out that your Dad’s sister hated your guts for no apparent reason was not quite the same as being betrayed for the first time.

I had just returned from holiday in Europe after about a month. My then boyfriend had gone on holiday prior to my departure. He returned home after I had left my hols so altogether, we hadn’t seen each other for close to two months. Ten years ago, at 18, we couldn’t afford cellphones. Pagers were the in-thing at the time and neither of us had the luxury of having a laptop with remote access to the Internet to email each other either. If memory serves correct, I was still using a 56kbps dial-up at home on my first desktop. Either way, over those 2 months, contact and conversations between us were very few and far between.

When I returned home after my holiday, I shortly found out that the then boyfriend had cheated on me during my absence. Worst of all, I knew the girl too. We were mutual friends and all studying in the same faculty. My heart broke. My trust for him and our relationship no longer existed and for the first time in my life, I understood the meaning of the word betrayal. If you ask me why it was such a big deal well, quite simply, he was the first guy I ever fell in love with. I knew not of such emotion, feeling or happiness until we got together and he took all of that away with one impulsive decision.

The next few weeks following the revelation were intense. I didn’t eat. I subsisted on Vitasoy (for my foreign readers, Vitasoy is a soya bean based drink) and nothing much else. Then one day, for some reason I felt compelled to do something damaging. So I went to the nearest store, bought my first pack of cigarettes, a lighter and went down the street, lighting my very first cigarette, taking my first few drags, thinking that I would never trust another human with my heart ever again.

That tumultuous relationship lasted a lot longer afterwards. Over the course of 3 years, he cheated on me a total of 3 times, with 3 different girls. Yes, I was stupid, naïve and most tellingly, desperate enough to stick with him throughout all of that. Like they say, third time lucky eh?

Ten years on, I still smoke. I’m not a hardcore smoker by a mile but I haven’t made a conscious effort to try and quit either. Though I have forgiven my then boyfriend for whatever has happened in the past, my cigarettes remind me of how easy it is to have your emotions trampled on and flung out the window like confetti. Even when I was with D - probably the only other man whom I have ever had any real feelings for - I never felt any compulsion to give up smoking. Somehow, over the years, with my constantly growing and renewed cynicism, perhaps the only thing that has remained constant is the fact that I have no qualms about reaching for my cigarettes and lighting up.

I am in no way an advocate of the habit and I just want to make it clear that my decision to not kick the habit is purely a personal one. I can go without cigarettes for days but I have come to realise that my desire to step out and light up is usually fuelled by some sort of emotional or mental distress – work, friends, family, personal life etc. And because until today, I cannot forget the feeling of betrayal.

And that is why I smoke.

P.S. On the subject of D, I went home last night to discover that he had sent over an entire box of my personal belongings that I had left behind in his apartment, many, many, many months (we’re talking a year +++ here), ago when we split up. Frankly I had given up all hope on ever seeing those things again. Anyway, they have been returned after all this time, and I do not know the motivation behind the action because we are not on speaking terms. I am inclined to think that perhaps he has a new partner that he has asked to move in with him, or maybe he’s just finally decided to move on. Whatever the case, I hope he is well and I wish him nothing but joy and happiness in the future.

Screw It

I seem to be running thin on patience these days. Actually I have been pushed around a fair bit these past few months and there has been more than one person at any given point, giving me grief of some description or another. It is rather rare for me to lose my head. In fact, those closest to me will tell you that me losing my head is a once-in-six-years sort of affair so when it does actually happen, you should declare it a public holiday.

Anyway, given that I seem to be attracting all manner of rubbish these days and most of my time is spent frustratedly trying prevent things from blowing up at work, I have neglected my friends, my personal time and time with the family as well. The only thing that has kept me going is the visits to the gym and well, my dog. The dog is a new addition to the family. He's just a puppy and his energy is boundless but over the past few months he's helped my mental stability by just being, well...a puppy. He's serves as the best distraction I have ever had in years which makes me wonder why I never pushed harder to get a dog earlier. I grew up with two big dogs as a kid so having pets would have been the ideal way to deal with life's bullshit but I suppose like many things in my life, I chose not to push the matter of getting another pet. Mind you, I don't think I can say the same about having a pet terrapin. And yes, I have had a couple of those as pets before as well. :)

Either way, work remains hellish. My friends continue to rally around me. I am not seeing anyone and at this point in time, I still don't have any desire to pursue a relationship with just any Tom, Dick or Harry so I've kind of left that part of my life untouched. It boggles me somewhat that more than a year has passed since my decision to walk away from the relationship with D. Though I do miss the good times and familiarity of being with someone for that long, I do not regret my decision. I suppose if it happens again in future, then well, I guess I will be better prepared for it and I will be wiser about my decisions. In the meantime though, I shall carry on being as happy as clam, doing whatever it is I want to do and give in to 'reasonable' whims and fancies whenever I want. How bloody ironic is that?

The end of the year is fast closing in on me and I want to make this a year worth remembering so here's to saying C'est la vie for the next 4 months and making the most of it. And yeah, I will try to write more. I promise. :)

I Love To Go A-Wandering

And so I will officially be on holiday from tomorrow evening onwards. I kind of have mixed feelings about this trip. On one hand I am totally psyched that I am going to be gallivanting around Europe with a backpack and a mate from school. This would be the first proper long holiday I've had in a while now. I did do Bali last October with a couple of friends and it was good fun but too brief to really be much of a proper break. This time I am taking two weeks off and will be trooping through Amsterdam, Paris, Chamonix, Rome, Barcelona, Granada and Madrid.

This trip is also a milestone for me because it's the first time I am traveling halfway around the world with someone who isn't my boyfriend. Yeah it's a bit weird for me to deal with this. My mate is male but we went to university together and we're nothing but good friends. The odds of anything ever transpiring between us hovers around the region of ZILCH. Prior to this trip, all big trips were with the last serious ex, D. We traveled a lot when we were together. Cambodia twice, Bali, Bangkok, London, Sydney, Vietnam and Phuket twice too. Exploring the world with D used to be one of my favourite things to do and I'm glad I shared those opportunities with him. I did also go to Langkawi with the Twat known as Spooner late last year. Let's just say that the most exciting part of that trip was my adventure with a spider in the bathroom. Enough said.

There is also the other thing about leaving someone back home whilst I'm off having fun on a different continent. Yeah, there is someone in the picture. I just haven't mentioned him. Part of the reason for this is the fact that I didn't want to jinx the whole bloody thing. Look how excited I was about Spooner and he turned out to be something out of the bowels of hell. Oh and just in case you're wondering, he never returned me my stuff. Bastard. May you lose all the head on your head tomorrow.

So yes, there's someone at home that I don't really have the heart to leave behind at this point in time. True it's only been 5 weeks but he's funny, kind and good company. Best of all he's already met some of my friends and so far no one has told me that they think he's a complete douchebag. Ironically, they seem to like him a lot and one even told me, "He's a keeper." Don't worry, I raised my eyebrows at that quite a fair bit. I had to. Do you know how many beers had been consumed prior to the making of that statement?!

It is still early days yet but he does seem like a decent human. Okay, a little more than decent. The fact that he was away in Macau for a week and he texted everyday just to ask if things were okay with me and to fill me in on what he was up to for the day was very unexpected. And he pulled another rabbit out of his pocket by offering to loan me his iPad whilst I'm away so that I won't be bored out of my skull on the long train rides. What really threw me was that he went online and downloaded maps for the different cities I'll be in on the iPad so I could refer to them even when I'm offline. Unexpected? Defo!

Alas needs must and all that jazz, the trip was already committed to and planned before I met him. I had agreed to this trip as I felt I need to get away from everything for a while and go somewhere where I'd be able to empty my head properly and get a fresh perspective on life in general. Well, it's one hell of an expensive head-emptying perspective for sure! My bank accounts have been bled dry and I haven't even left the country!

But I'm not whinging. I'm looking forward to going away and getting some peace and quiet. Well that shall be an interesting mission assuming I don't throttle my travel buddy because he can be a tight-arsed little prick sometimes for no good reason whatsoever. No, that was not a tongue-in-cheek statement.

So wish me luck as I go a-wandering. I will attempt to blog intermittently whenever possible. If all else fails, I'll just post pretty pics of the sights I see.

:)

The Brain's G Spot

It amazes me what floats through my brain on a daily basis. I was at the gym earlier, second day of physical abuse involving sweat, jagged breaths, pushing, pulling and most importantly, pain. At the risk of sounding completely off my rocker, I am going to say that I am a fan of pain. I can just imagine all the eyebrows being raised at that statement but let me state for the record that I am not into weird things that involve whips, chains and clamps. Uh...no thank you really. I have enough trouble dealing with a fellow human as it is. Forget the additional accessories, please.

So whilst I sat at the overhead press machine wondering why on earth I was subjecting my body to this amount of torture (there is no other word for it really), I decided to make a list of reasons as to why I keep on insisting on doing it over and over again. It's like a bad habit. Oh, but I like!

1. Vanity
Well, that was a no-brainer. Of course I bloody go to the gym so that I can err... look good without my clothes on. (Not that anyone's looking.) But ultimately that's one of the biggest reasons why people work out. You want to look good in your clothes and out of them. A nice, trim, toned body is THAT much more appealing than a flabby, floppy one that quivers like jelly. (Okay, I know some people are into the jelly but let's assume that they are a minority for the time being.) So there's reason number one. I want to look in the mirror and go "Hmmm...", and not look in the mirror and go, "Oh ewww...".

2. Boredom
When you're trying to kill time, there's only so many movies you can watch, that many snacks you can pig out on, that much coffee you can drink and that many fags you can smoke. What else do people do when they're bored? Stare at their pet goldfish? Play games on their smartphones? Have sex? Well, all of those are possible options but I don't have any pet goldfish and I don't really like to play games on my iPhone and there's no one to have sex with so I opt to travel all the way to the gym and spend a couple of hours acting like Conan the Barbarian's sister. Voila.

3. The After Effects
I'm not referring to nice, tight little butt or a ripped upper body. Sorry, those things take weeks, if not months of disciplined effort. What I'm talking about is the soreness or pain that usually comes several hours or the day after a solid workout. Yeah, welcome to my world of weirdness. I like that 'I just got beaten up' feeling (though I never have been beaten up). I look forward to it. I enjoy struggling to walk up a flight of stairs knowing full well that I can only blame all the hamstring curls I've done. I like having trouble pulling a t-shirt over my head because I've been going crazy with the pull-ups and push-ups. If I may borrow a line from Enrique No-More-Mole Iglesias, it would be, "BABY I LIKE IT!"

Am I crazy? Oh yes, for sure. In sustained quantities though. :P

In the 1960s, there was a mad psychiatrist, Robert Heath who suddenly went on a bender and decided to try and cure depression, intractable pain, schizophrenia, suicidal feelings, addictions and even homosexuality by drowning them out with pleasure induced by implanting an electrode into his patients' brains.

Heath's experiments were based on findings from a decade earlier that administering a mild electric shock to the equivalent brain area in rats - the "reward centre" - would send the animals into a state that looked like ecstasy. The rats would work at complex tasks over and over for the promise of another shock. Heath wondered whether his human subjects would react in the same way - and they did. When they were given a shock they said they felt good. And when handed the electrode's controls, they just kept on pressing, again and again, sometimes a thousand times in succession.

- Helen Phillips, New Scientist, 2003.

Well, that explains some things but not everything I suppose. Over the year researchers have painstakingly diagrammed the inside of the human brain and found that there is a chemical transmitter that passes messages around. This chemical transmitter is the very familiar dopamine. It has been found that dopamine release can be linked to every natural and unnatural pleasure experienced by humans. Whether you're feeling the high of heroin, the wham-bam of orgasm, the satisfaction of a rich meal or the thrill of winning money, you can pretty much blame dopamine for every good feeling you have. The 'reward centre' from which dopamine is released the human brain's G-spot. It's the ooooh yes, please yes, keep going, uh huh, yes, yes, yes, oh yes, oh god, oh this feels soooo good spot. Only, it's lodged several centimeters below your skull.

Brain people also suggest that pleasure dictates the type of decisions we make - solving math problems, forming grammatical phrases, making ethical choices or even gambling. Apparently, all decisions are made to maximise pleasure. This does not mean that we are all slaves to instant gratification. (I would hope so, or else people would be jumping on any human they met on the street and found remotely attractive.) However, this ability to override instant gratification is a calculated one that is deemed to maximise pleasure as only by deferring instant gratification do we gain the chance of long-term rewards.

Unfortunately for the hedonists and people like me, it seems that pleasure, by definition cannot be long-lasting. It must switch off so that we can carry on with other tasks. This, would essentially explain my need to constantly return to the gym and spend hours torturing myself so that I can enjoy the feeling of exhaustion and soreness that comes later. So you see, there's a reasonable explanation for my madness. I'll just blame it on the G-spot.

Going Potty

I've been meaning to blog about this earlier but work has just been insane today. Honestly, it's not the work that bothers me. It's the people that I need to deal with who usually drive me to want to pick up the nearest sharp implement and stab them with it. Anyway... let's get on with it.

I've never been one to do drugs. It boils down to a few simple reasons:
1. I live in Singapore and basically being caught in possession of your own children here could sometimes land your ass in jail.
2. Even if I did get hold of something I wanted to try, I wouldn't quite know the proper 'procedure' so to speak of 'consumption' (Yes, I'm that vanilla).
3. Why do I need drugs when cigarettes and alcohol can be consumed in copious amounts legally?
4. I live in fear that my own mother would throw my ass in jail if she ever caught me with a prohibited substance that didn't come out of my doctor's office.

As a result last weekend's experiment with marijuana/weed/hemp/pot/cannabis/ganja (seriously, how many damn names does that thing have?) was quite interesting to say the least. It was not the first time I had smoked the stuff so I sort of knew what was happening. The whole preparation aspect of it has always amused me. I have seen former potheads, argue with current and in-remand potheads on the correct method of rolling a joint and honestly, I don't think there's a set way of doing it. Think about it, if you had big hands, you'd probably end up rolling a fatter spliff because you'd pick up more tobacco with your fingers. But the relativity of one's hand size in relation to joint-rolling is a conversation for another day.

The first couple of instances that I encountered weed, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Had it not been for those in the know, I would have probably munched on the bloody produce. The virgin attempt to enjoy the psychoactive substance was outside a club with one very drunk female friend. I distinctly remember having one of those nights out where every progressive drink just makes you more and more sober. Sadly, I could not say the same for my girlfriend. In the attempt to help me enjoy my night, she shared her joint with me. And it had absolutely zero effect. I can safely tell you that I felt nothing because I was sober enough to remember everything. What an absolute bummer. It's kind of like meeting a guy you really, really like and then realizing that he is absolute shite in bed. (In case you were wondering, that HAS happened to me too.)

My second attempt was with the ex boyfriend and a couple of other friends. This time there was a physical reaction. Nausea. All I wanted to do was throw up and I remember only taking a few drags. The lingering smell in the apartment kept making my stomach heave and it did not help that my friends and the ex were getting stoned out of their minds, demanding for repeated rounds of Sara Lee chocolate pound cake, which I faithfully fetched for them. I even had to wash the dishes. Absolute buggery.

Hence, when presented with the opportunity to try again last weekend, I didn't quite jump at the chance. I was a bit apprehensive about the side-effects or rather, the expected effects on my body. I had been drinking since about 4 in the afternoon and 4 beers on a hot day with an empty stomach certainly clouds one's judgment. So when the joint came my way, I didn't turn it away. I had a few small drags, handed said spliff to next person and carried on watching the television. Didn't feel much physically so I just sat and kept skulling water because I suddenly felt really, really, thirsty and also, I didn't want to be plastered before dinner.

Second spliff appeared about half hour later and this one was way stronger than the first because every drag felt thick and heavy and tasted (to me), like coffee for some reason. This time, after a few minutes I started feeling the 'expected' effects. My body was slowing down, I felt relaxed, still thirsty as hell for some reason but I felt calmer, less inclined to want to talk (slur), and things seemed brighter. Now, while all of this was happening, one part of my brain was making mental notes. I was conducting an experiment on myself and yet ironically still could keep enough of my mental faculties together.

What I did not expect was how hard the high hit me. Maybe it was because it was the first time my body was experiencing the drug in full capacity so when it hit, it felt absolutely bizarre. My eyes were wide open, lights seemed harsher and my brain was clearly awake but obviously not up to its usual fantastic self because I struggled to keep my psychomotor skills in check. I can quite honestly admit that my body felt liked it weighed a ton and my legs were moving out of pure instinct to get from point A to the dinner location, which for some reason, seemed like it involved a lot of crossing of roads.

Dinner was another episode altogether. I attacked the bread basket. Go ahead, laugh. After I had taken the first bite of bread, it felt like my saliva glands had been resurrected and I instantaneously attacked everything in sight. One particular dinner companion realized that I had a serious bout of the munchies and started laughing insanely. And there was more water. Bread and water. Never have I drunk so much water in one sitting. Even after I've finished a 6km run, I don't pour that much water down my throat. That night however, I was like a dehydrated nomad in a desert. All I wanted was water, And more bread. And ooh, let us have a tagiatelle Ragu pasta dish while we're at it please?

So I attacked the bread, glugged my water, scoffed my pasta down and then poured a cappuccino down my gullet in an attempt to stay awake. At this point, I was still floating and quite high. I also felt immensely tired. I wanted to lie down on the pavement and sleep. And I would have done just that if Spooner didn't pull me out of my chair and make me walk. Back at the apartment, I remember curling up on the sofa watching the Gorillaz's DVD of their performance at Manchester. Did I ever tell you that I think Demon Days is one of the best albums ever made? Well, there you go, I've said it. I don't remember falling asleep although Spooner claims I fell asleep on him but I woke up in bed the next morning (no hangover, result!) and I felt more or less human so I guess that was really the end of my narcotic adventure.

Not very exciting huh? Yeah, I thought so too but it was interesting to say the least. At least now I know why people choose to do it. I'm not saying that smoking pot is something I intend to start doing on a regular basis. It's just that I now have a clearer understanding of some people fall prey to wanting to get high repeatedly. Marijuana is both a stimulant and a depressant at the same time. Technically, this means that it slows one part of your brain down, usually the area that controls your psychomotor skills and then stimulates a different section which explains why lights and sounds seem way brighter and louder when one is under the influence. The drug is also known to be a hallucinogen which explains why some people have diminished levels of concentration and may tell you the same joke again and again and laugh at it repeatedly if they've been smoking pot. As for me, I just felt that Damon Albarn is an effing genius and that I had a special kinship with him. Thereafter, I am pretty sure, I fell asleep.

Body Issues

The next person who comes to me whining about their weight/body image issues is going to get a nice, resounding smack from yours truly.

Seriously people, there's a whole load of other shit you can worry about instead of obsessing about the number showing on your weighing scale. Mind you, it's not just the women who are whinging. The men are too. Case in point Spooner who is in Hong Kong this week for work complaining over text messages that he is growing as fat as a pig because all he's doing is eating rich food, sitting in his chair the whole day and not exercising. This, coming from a man who usually hits the gym everyday and plays football twice a week on top of that is honestly, a bit much because as far as I can tell, he doesn't have any excess weight anywhere!

If you're wondering who the chick in the picture is, it's Ximena Navarrete, the current Miss Mexico and also the winner of Miss Universe 2010. She's 21 and stands at a pretty normal 1.74 metres. (I say normal because there is a large part of the world that is taller than the average Singaporean making us, the subnormal ones.) If there is one person in the world who has the right to be going mental over her weight or body shape, it's her. The rest of us should learn to be a little more realistic with our megalomaniacal hang-ups.

Before you start moaning about your legs are not long enough, your tummy is causing the buttons on your jeans to pop out like missiles and your hips are wider than the moon, please register a very simple fact in your head - your body type is genetically determined. So just because you're not so small and can't fit into a size 24 pair of skinny jeans, that fact alone does not make you overweight or obese or even (the dreaded F-word), fat. The truth is, the shape of your body is determined by several factors. Genetics is the first one. Lifestyle is the second biggest factor. If you insist on eating good food, not exercising and basically slobbing around all the time, then do not be surprised if you pile on the pounds. But nevermind lifestyle. Let's deal with the horrible G word. Genetics. Though I would very much like to tell you to go scream at your parents for passing on their thunder thighs and narrow shoulders to you, it would end up being moot. So let's deal with this with a few more ounces of intelligence and approach this with a more scientific perspective.

What's your body type? An apple, a pear, a H? Identifying what kind of body you have could help you deal with your body image issues and even help you change your exercise regime or buy clothes that suit you better. So here we go...

The Apple



The apples amongst us generally have larger upper bodies (chest and stomach), with smaller arms and legs. If you have a thick waist, full breasts/chest, a wide torso and upper back, then you have a typical apple-shaped body. Men predominantly have this shape but women seem to be prone to develop this body shape later in life.

People with this body type should focus on aerobic training in order to lose overall body fat. High intensity cardio activities like jogging and stair-climbing help to lose fat all over while helping with definition in the lower half of the body. Cable training helps to strengthen your back and chest. Avoid wearing clothes that highlight your upper body width. Tube dresses and tight wife-beater tops don't flatter you so leave them alone.

The Pear



We all love Beyonce because she's bootylicious. Congratulations to all my pear-shaped friends because you're bootylicious too. :)

Pear-shaped bodies have small upper torso and wider hips and thighs. Your bodies tend to naturally store fat in your lower half so your exercise regime should concentrate on toning these specific areas. Ideally, you should spend about 75 percent of your time exercising your lower half and the remaining 25 percent on your upper body. Cycling, leg lifts and squats are some of your best friends. To balance out your top half, concentrate on shoulder presses and push-ups.

If you're insecure about your wider lower body, avoid tight outfits. If you think you can rock it, then by all means go ahead.

The Hourglass



Ahhhh Scarlett. Go on, drool. Hourglass shapes or people who are known to have the 8-frame are usually the envy of most. However, they tend to put on weight on both upper and lower halves quite easily. Their saving grace comes in the form of having a narrow waist that balances out their shoulders and hips which are usually of equal proportions.

To maintain the balance, hourglass-shaped folks should undertake an exercise regime that concentrates on all areas equally. You should be focusing on both cardio and resistance exercises like stationary biking, jogging, jumping rope, swimming, bicep curls, the shoulder press, and squats.

Oh and wear what you like, because you'll probably get away with it.

The H



Hello H. I don't know whether this body type is a bane or boon. I fall into this category. Large shoulders, large waist and long limbs make us look a little grass-hopper like.

H-type bodies should focus on keeping the upper body trim or else risk looking seriously stocky. Running on an incline helps keep the bulk down and to even out the lower half, concentrate on leg extensions and squats so that you don't end up with stick legs.

As far as clothes go, we tend to look better in shirts and clothing that requires 'hanging'. Jackets and longer tops help to even out the heaviness of the shoulders and the length of the torso. I have also come to realize that women with H-shaped bodies tend to look damn good in boy-cut jeans for some reason. :)

The Ruler



Every girl wants to be a ruler. We all want to eat as much as want, drink as much as want, not lift a finger and still look like a rake. Needless to say, it just doesn't work that way. Alas, there are a few out there who are born with ruler-shaped bodies and blessed with insane metabolic rates that don't allow them to put on much weight. The flipside to this is the fact that people with this body type generally struggle to put on muscle mass. So if you're looking to get a toned, nicely ripped look, it's going to be a bit of a battle.

Ruler-shaped folks should concentrate less on cardio and more on resistance training. This includes bench presses, squats, lat pull downs and hamstring curls. Resistance exercise helps create definition and believe me, a little bit of definition is always nice to see unless it's your life's ambition to resemble a piece of pasta.

What to wear? Avoid body-hugging, skin-tight outfits because they just make you look skinny. You're lucky enough to be able to wear all the frills and ribbons and layers you want so please, milk that opportunity.

The Inverted Triangle or V



The inverted triangle or V frame is quite a rare body type. It's considerably bigger on top when compared to the lower half. People with this body shape usually have shoulders measuring two to three inches more than their hips. The classic example of this is a swimmer's body. This is the ideal body shape for men and those with this frame should concentrate on bringing the lower body up to speed with the top half. Resistance training concentrating on the glutes, thighs and calves are your priority. Otherwise you'll end up risking looking like a giant box balanced on two stilts.

Please don't run out and get a boob job and PLEASE avoid wearing skinny jeans under pain of death.

Well I've educated you on the different body types that genetics has played a part in determining and what you can do to emphasize the good bits and how to deal with the not-so-good bits too. The onus is now on you to either get into a proper exercise regime or change your entire wardrobe. And if after all of this, you still insist on moaning about your body, then please call/text/email/skype me and I will be most happy to oblige and smack you across your head.

Til next time, bye! :)

Bum Off The Floor

And so I went to visit the relationship manager at the gym last week. I've been feeling terribly guilty over the last month or so because of the lack of exercise and the grotesque over-consumption of good food and excessive amounts of alcohol. Alas, I love my beer and the only problem with it is that every blasted calorie lodges itself in my middle and around my hips.

So I went to the gym to sort out the membership details and also to spur my arse into getting some exercise. As it turned out, I had been watching YouTube videos on TRX training and was in a state of endless fascination that can only be induced by a giant nylon rubber-band.

For those of you who have no clue what I'm on about, this is what TRX is.



The TRX was invented by a former navy seal who basically developed a piece of exercise equipment that allowed him and his fellow seals to work out in the middle of a desert whilst battling with the enemy using the facilities they had around them i.e., the nearest tree or boulder. Apparently you can grow really fat if you just sit around and wait for the enemy to come and kill your ass so the best way to be prepared is to always be fighting fit. And you can do just that with a rubber-band.

And so I got really excited when the relationship manager at the gym told me that they now have personalized TRX training and even group sessions! (Yes, I quite enjoy the idea of a roomful of sweaty people suspended from a ceiling, battling their beer guts as they crunch themselves to oblivion.)I managed to wrangle a freebie and I am scheduled to have a free one-on-one session with a trainer tomorrow morning at 7am. The few people I have spoken to have all vouched for the fact that the TRX is a very effective exercise tool. In other words, I'm going to be one very sore monkey after tomorrow, but hey, whoever said a tight butt and a flat stomach comes easy? (Yes, I do understand the irony of having a pseudonym like Jellybutt. I came up with that moniker to remind myself never to go down that path. I do not advocate jiggling.)

Hopefully the session tomorrow will serve as sufficient inspiration to get butt back into shape. I checked this morning and it looked kinda lopsided.

*munches on a chocolate chip cookie*

To fitness and tight butts. Amen.