Exercise junkie

After a particularly lazy week last week, and a Thursday at Step when I found the class so hard that I had to remove all the risers and do the class almost on the flat (Clive's Camp Quote of the Week: "TWO! TWO! OH MY GOD.....next week I'm going to bring in a counting chart from 1 to 10 and we're going to LEARN TO COUNT..."), I have been to a class every night this week *is smug*. I went to two in a row on Monday, and spinning on Tuesday, blergh blergh.

Going so often allows for a lot of daydreaming and making up interesting stories about our fellow exercisers. Annoying Tigger Woman is my favourite. Why is she so bouncy? It is not good for her, she's so busy trying to kick highest or pivot furthest that she totally loses form. Ali and I think it is because of the guy she comes with. Perhaps he is her husband, and she is trying to show off because he had an affair and she is trying to save their relationship. Hence the insanely fast cycling at spinning - with no resistance.

Clive's Camp Quote of tonight: "You're all CRIPPLES!" and "It's not bad. It's not good, but it's ot bad." The other women in the class were all complaining about him tonight, and saying he's boring and they autopilot through the whole thing, and that he's really rude. He's not rude, he's funny! And if he's that boring, how come they're always getting it wrong? We went to a Sunday morning step class with Linda a couple of weeks back - now THAT was dull as shit, and she's not motivational and in fact a bit sneery. I appreciate an instructor that calls me a cripple. It makes me work harder and also makes me laugh; although, I suppose it's a bit un-PC.

All this exercising, but I feel more of a blob than ever. Too many sweets, too much bread. More fruit needed. My 5-and-20 thread on the forum got deleted and I haven't been too good about focusing on my goals since I can't post every day. Excuses, excuses!

In a mere 36 hours, I can make Mr Z cut the front jungle.

Predictable as ever

Of course, I went back to work and the entries tailed off immediately.

ICI's quotes of the week:
"Oooohhh you're all doing so WELL! I'm so produ of myself."
"I'm not saying anything this time. I'm not speaking. I won't say a thing. ................. STRADDLE! Ooohhh I can't help myself"
Extreme comedy value.

I have kept up the 20-minutes-a-day extremely well; the weekend was a bit hairy, I actually hauled out Yourself! Fitness and went back to Maya for 15 minutes. She was very pissed off with me and our 15 minute session consisted of weighted squat-lunges (3 sets on each side) and 100 side crunches. Note to self: do not ignore computer program for so long again: programmers have a sadistic streak.

I tried the dress on this week. It still fits, in that it stretches over my inflated frame, but I couldn't do it up without some serious corsetry or a minor miracle. It will be a good measure of success (or lack thereof).

My tutor group seem to be having something of a meltdown this week, there have been some very strange goings on, from even the most quiet member. We've had the usual "EVERYONE HATES ME AND THIS SCHOOL IS SHIT AND NOBODY CARES" rant from C; L has been excluded for most of the week for throwing a rock at someone; and today, there was a big row between S & S - S says she's going to punch other S if she doesn't stop sending her rude texts. It's like a little soap opera, it really is. The highlight of the week so far was when Ca refused for a day and a half to remove her second pair of stud earrings and was removed from lessons as a result. I find this extremely petty, on both sides, but she is the only one I had a chance of talking round. It didn't work. More of this school's shit and I'll go somewhere else. Le sigh.

Funny moment today when Sarah, the PGCE student, quietly and cautiously voiced her concerns that K always seemed stoned, to which Caroline and I responded in tandem, "He is." I then realised how matter-of-fact we'd been about it and was momentarily a little shocked, but then, he's been stoned for the past 2 and a half years, so it's no great shakes. At least his ambition has moved on from pimp or drug dealer to scaffolder - he won't need Maths GCSE for that, not like the other two.

I have been rather hurled into the deep end with the new job. The Head caught me on Wednesday and told me I needed to find 2 gifted year 11s staying on in the 6th form who could afford to fork out £700 to go on a G&T conference to Hong Kong in November, by Friday. Deadline for said trip passed 3 weeks ago, so needless to say my predecessor (who has the jobs of about 4 different people combined and a very sick baby at home) is named "Muddikins von Mud Mud" with senior management. I was torn between wanting desperately to complete Mission Impossible and impress, and being very aware that I don't officially take the job until May 1st - I haven't even had the confirmation letter. In the end I threw myself into it. I think I may have sorted it, although I don't have any paperwork about it at all, even application forms, so that makes the possibility of success slightly slimmer. Still, I have my first G&T meeting tomorrow so perhaps I can get one then.

SO tired. Bed and Ian Rankin novel, I think.

Holidays are almost gone

Gutted for myself :-(

Mother Hand is here. She has come to sort out my garden, though I have a feel she is going to sow some seeds in a hanging basket, repot my desperately over-crowded aloe vera and then leave, with all the weeds still intact. She has hurt her wrist, so I may let her off. And she did bring me a magnolia.

I've done some good exercising. I went to circuits last night, I swear it was easier, I worked my arse off and felt I was able to put in more than usual, so either I am slightly fitter or that cold was slowing me down more than I thought.

Tonight, back to Step with the incredibly camp instructor (ICI, from now on). I found the routine a lot easier this time round, muscle memory or something, and he commented on it at the end - how it had really clicked for me. Not so the two teens who sneaked in 5 minutes late and had their steps way too close to the back wall. You could tell they weren't going to make it - one wasn't wearing a sports bra and she really needed it - a particularly energetic 3-knee repeater and she'd have knocked herself out, with 2 black eyes to show for her efforts. She managed about 45 minutes and then sat the rest out. They had no grasp on the routine at all.

Ali was also much happier this time although still finding it hard, and we cackled to each other all the way through and shouted to each other over the music and were generally loud and obnoxious (there were only 8 people there) but had a blast. At one point, ICI, shouted, "Have you got that?" and I was there, stepping away, giving a big grin and thumbs up in an overly-cheerful, if-I-stop-I'll-fall-over way, whilst Ali shouted, "NO!" and waved her hands about. ICI jumped off his step and advanced several paces, cocked his hips and put his hands on them, screwed up his eyes and cooed, "Oooohhhh, you have REALLY!" at which point, I would have rolled on the floor laughing if I'd had enough breath. He is such excellent value for money, even without the amazing exercise.

My arse hurts like buggery now, though. Oh....that's maybe not a good simile. But still. Between the endless leg lifts at circuits and tonight's mega-step, I'm sure my posterior must be at least 2 inches higher and an inch tighter now.

Ali wanted to do circuits tomorrow but Mother Hand will still be here - just as well or that would have been 4 days in a row at the leisure centre. I must sort out a membership, it'll save me a fortune.

I have finished marking one whole coursework studdy. Huzzah! The boring one is done - now, the tedious one. Maybe I will do that at the weekend, in between the 50 reports and 85 assessments. I am so crap at time management. I am wishing this blog had smileys.

I am nearly halfway on Ester, and now that the cable repeat has had some time to, well, repeat, I am LOVING it. So much, I may not even dye it when I'm done. It suits the undyed look. I reckon one more repeat of the cable pattern and I'll be ready to cast on for the top part, at which point I'll have to go out and buy a 4.5mm circ, because I have managed on straight needles until now, but the number of stitches is going to double, or maybe triple, I forget. So, even though I hate back-and-forthing on a circ, I may have no choice. I am tempted to buy 2 circs...but that's just crazy talk. What a waste of money I don't have. I really want to get the first part finished by Saturday, though, so I can cast on before going back to work. It's so much easier to pick up a nice cable pattern for a couple of rows than it is to spend an hour casting on and picking up stitches.

I found this cartoon. Laughed a lot. Enjoy.

Memory Lane

In an effort to avoid the 5 pieces of coursework I need to mark, and inspired by an episode of Sex and the City, I had a flick through the photo albums containing all the good pictures from university this evening. I have some questions -

1. wtF was going on with my HAIR?! That fringe - well, I always knew it was a problem, but by my final year that thing had a curl on it to rival Jerry. Had straighteners not been invented in the 90s?
2. I know I was poor, but would it have killed me to get myself to New Look once in a while and stop wearing my old Camp Black Hawk staff shirts?
3. Did I own any make up? Why didn't I wear it?
4. Was I physically inacapable of buying trousers that were long enough?
5. When I looked in the mirror, why did I not consider how pale and unwell I looked, put down the cider and pick up a carrot?
6. It's not fair that I can't wallpaper my rooms with photographs anymore. OK, that's not a question. Suck it up.

I think I thought I was being edgy and cool, not caring about fashion and wearing my DM Mary Janes with EVERYTHING (even brown ones black opaque tights and lilac dresses, and bare legged with little skirts in the summer, IIRC) but, now I realise I was just achingly dorky. Still, if Carrie Bradshaw looks in her photo album and cringe at outfits she wore 10 years ago, I suppose it's an indication that everybody has some painful pictures in their past. Thankfully, I can't seem to find any of mine on the web.

With all this in mind, I'm quite glad I am nearly 30. Look how improved I am! I make an effort to look and smell nice now. I get facials and waxes and the occasional professional hair cut. I buy clothes that don't have elasticated waists. I may not be thinner, but my face certainly is, and I no longer have that pasty, deathly look that screams, "I live on red wine, Marlboro and toasted sandwiches and rarely see daylight". I would never belittle the 20s me - I had an absolute riot at uni, I wouldn't change any of it (apart from, I might be more hedonistic) but I am also really enjoying my current phase of life and looking forward to the next one. I can't believe I am still only in my 20s.

It's 2.10am now (the publishing clock on this blog is all snafu'd) because I have been reading old diario in a self-indulgent way - specifically, the Ibiza chronicles. It reminded me that I was going to tell a tale from the Chronicles of the Evils of Alcohol - from my visit to Jen in November. I wrote about it once and then the dongle got fried. It's kind of late now, I hve a new magazine calling and if I sit here much longer I might feel the need to mark something....bwahahaha! Evils of Alcohol tomorrow.

I went swimming this evening. That was my 20 minutes - although I did about 35. 20 lengths in a variety of ways. My arms ache, it's good. I did mainly back stroke and sculling, and then got a float and did a few lengths with just my legs, so I didn't overwork my upper body. Get me. I could so be a personal trainer. All I need is the yellow lycra trousers and I'm the new Ms Motivator.

There's a very long thread on the forum about whether people feel embarrassed to go swimming or not, which was started by a girl who is, and is a size 12-14. I feel a bit sorry for people who are too embarrassed to get their cossies on and get splashing. In the pool tonight, the only thing I could see was people's heads bobbing up an down as they swam lengths. A more concerted squint revealed that many of them were overweight, but then, swimming is great exercise, so why not? I saw a lady in the showers with a massive belly but killer legs, and another with a teeny tiny waist and hips that were so wide that they were, by comparison, slightly comical - fantastic hour glass shape but I bet she finds it hell to find well-fitting clothes.

I also saw a couple who I fear may have been breaking the "No petting" pool rule. I was more interested in the reaction of the 2 women stood next to me in the shallows, who were absolutely outraged (but didn't complain to a lifeguard or anything) and complained about "filthy French folk", oblivious to the fact this couple were speaking some slavic dialect. I was slightly more concerned when they got out of the pool and I realised the girl had the figure of a 12 year old - I really hope she was not a 12 year old, because I then had the misfortune to be in the changing cubicle next to the one they were in. Together.

Fastest I've ever changed in my life.

I found the pictures

They were in a bag of Stuff (tm) under the bed.

I also marked 5 pieces of coursework - though it took me until midnight to get around to it, and I was working for an hour because I kept getting distracted by really fascinating things like paint splatters on the wallpaper and the rubber Mother Hand bought me from the Tate for my Christmas stocking.

And I did a half hour workout. I did one yesterday too - I am trying this thing where I exercise for at least 20 minutes every day. This is mainly because I have stopped officially dieting for the first time in ages and I need to do something so I feel still in control. So today I did Davina's core workout, and yesterday the pump one, and the day before I walked for 20 minutes (lame, I know, but whatever) and the day before....well, I was still aching from the hour of step I did on Thursday.

I used to be totally addicted to this Step class at the leisure centre, the instructor was the best. Her routines were super-hard and I'd be concentrating so much on the steps that I'd forget I was exercising. Often I concentrated so hard, I'd fall on my arse. Literally. Anyway, I stopped going when I joined Fitness First, and then when I quit FF I went back and it was a different woman, she used to attend the class and she wasn't the same and I was disappointed and not willing to bust a gut to get there by 6pm, so I only went the once.

Last week I decided to go back (in no way a knee jerk reaction to the amount of cherry sorbet with melted chocolate I'd eaten by Thursday) and I made Ali come with me, and it is a new instructor. A man. Not just any man. The campest instructor I have ever come across. He had his tunes on, getting ready for the class, and he was dancing around to them in a very earnest way and calling us all darlings. He put me instantly at ease and not only that, but his routine kicked arse. As in, I fell on it, again, in fact within 10 minutes of the class starting - definitely a good sign. Ali and I stumbled through the steps, giggling and shrugging at each other - it was impossible to keep up with. It made me really want to go back this week and get it right.

I also fiddled with my blog template today. I managed to make the text bigger and in a wider column. I am still not happy - now I think the text is too big, and maybe it should be a different font. But, I'm getting there. I haven't had any comments, so it's only me that cares at least *grin*