The perfect blog post

A+ for effort
A+ for effort

This isn’t the perfect blog post.

I need to stop waiting until I think of the perfect post before I write my next post.

Because it just means that there is too long a gap between blog posts.

And you all might start to think that I’ve given up on this whole blogging caper.

I haven’t.

I just get stuck sometimes.

Trying to think of the perfect blog post.

So now I will just blog because I’ll pop if I don’t.

And maybe the perfect blog post will just happen.


My muffin top runneth over

As many of you may know I’ve been studying for the last 12 months. And now it’s over. Woohoo!

For the past four (ish) months I decided to let go of my diet and exercise routine so I could concentrate on getting my studies done while working full time and being a Mum.

And for someone who has always struggled with her weight, it was actually fun to give myself permission to not wake up early and go to the gym or for a run; to not count calories; and to not weigh myself.

muffinBut now the studies are over and I have to deal with what I’ve done to myself.

There have been three signs that have made me think “Hmm… I may have gone a tad too far..”

I was at Coles waiting for the checkout chick to put my items in to the bag.  I went to put my hand on my hip and realised I was resting it on my muffin top! It now sticks out so much, it’s like a ledge!


I was getting dressed for work and tried to tuck in what I thought was my shirt puffing out under my jumper – and realised, yep once again, it was my muffin top. Can’t tuck that baby in, let me tell you!


Today we were out for a drive and we saw a  large lady. My daughter called her ‘fat’ and I said that we don’t call people that. Then my son said, “She’s not fat. She looks like you, Mum!”

Woah! The blinkers are off, peoples! TIme to get busy getting healthy!

Do any of you have any ‘signs’ that tell you that you may have gone too far with the whole eating lots and exercising not much routine?

I’ll show you how bad I can be!

Well, I’ve almost finished my Michelle Bridges 12WBT program (it’s now Week 10).

And I’ve flunked. Failed. Fallen off the wagon. Wasted my time. Wasted her time.

I am definitely fitter and have regained a love of exercise, but my weight has not budged much. And today when I weighed myself I had PUT ON weight.

And there is no mystery to it, my loyal and loving readers. I eat too much. Since about Week 4 when I fell ill, I have been following her food plan – and then some!

And that’s all it took to fall off the wagon and not get back on. I was sick for a few days, felt miserable and reached for food. And it got its greedy hooks back in to me.

And I was doing so well! Truly! I could see myself in lovely clothes, feeling happy and healthy.

I could see my goals so clearly and I felt like I was working steadily towards them. Until I wasn’t.

I am the demon child of the 12WBT program.

For example, today I started to count calories again to try and get back on track after Easter.

I did OK until lunchtime when the chocolate was calling my name.

But I still kept track of the calories and once they reached my limit of 1500, something clicked. And I got angry (at myself and the calorie content of a Lindt chocolate bunny).

I was mad. And what do people who are trying to lose weight but know they are doing the wrong thing do when they are mad?

I ate MORE! And dammit, I ate for Australia. I ate for all of you who are trying not to overeat.

stubborn childAnd in my head, I was yelling at that calorie counter app that was showing the amount of extra calories I had consumed in bold red numbers: “Hah! You think 500 calories over the limit is bad?! I’ll show you how bad I can be!” And ate a bit more.

So now I’m off to have dinner of lettuce leaf and to lick my wounds.

But in the immortal worlds of Scarlett O’Hara – tomorrow is another day!

Long post aka long rant

She’s a fiery one, that Kate Forster. And that’s why I love her!

What Party?

I have blogged since 2006-7. That’s a lifetime ago now. I had a daggy little blogspot site and off I went, writing to no one. My first blog was about trying to incorporate spiritual practises into my business. My rule was be open to everything and be honest. I then wrote and self published a book about the experience.

Did the spirituality help my business? No.

What the book did was  help me realise I loved to write. Then I went through a shithouse time with the business, and no matter how many crystals I sewed into my bra, things were still tough, so I dropped my marbles and crystals and had a good old-fashioned nervous breakdown.

Unlike some who wear their maladies like a badge of honour, I was ashamed of my illness. I didn’t want people to know that I couldn’t eat or even cry, so I hid myself in…

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A body transformation is on the cards

Yep, it’s the new year and I have decided to slap myself around, shake myself up and stop wallowing in self pity (and chocolate).

So I have joined up to the Michelle Bridges 12WBT program, starting 2 February.

I know, I know, I’ve tried lots of programs aver the years and no doubt you will be able to find a few posts from way back – if you can be bothered scrolling through them – where I’ve vowed to get back on track. And failed.

Is failure such a bad thing? I don’t think so. I think the main thing is that I keep trying.

So now I am in what they all “pre season” where you start to take part in challenges so you can “smash” through the 12 weeks. The program uses lots of motivational speak like “Willpower is a muscle, the more you use it, the stronger it grows!”

And the ever-fit Michelle Bridges really tells it like it is! I like that. She can be a bit scary, though. But that’s what I need!

I need someone to question my stupid excuses for not eating well or exercising. We all do it. Here is an example of some of my excuses:

I can’t exercise because my sports bra is in the wash.

I can’t exercise because my iPod isn’t charged.

I can’t exercise because it’s too hot/cold/humid/cloudy and it’s a day that ends in ‘y’.

I need that chocolate because I am premenstrual and body is telling me it needs it!

I need that chocolate to celebrate a weight loss.

I need that chocolate because I am happy/sad/melancholy/tired/confused/indecisive/busy.

As part of the preseason exercises, I am meant to share my goals. I want to share them with you, my gorgeous followers, because it will keep me on the straight and narrow and I know you won’t stand for any B.S.

Here they are:

1 Month Goals

To have lost 2 kilos by exercising every day and following the meal plan.

3 Month Goals

To have lost 6 kilos and to have increased my strength and tone. To  exercise every day and follow the plan. To keep doing my running program and to get to the gym every second day.

6 Month Goals

To have lost 12 kilos and to be able to run 5km. To complete the 5km Run Maroondah event.

12 Month Goals

To be able to run 10km and to have lost 15 kilos and kept it off.

Feel free to ask me how I am doing!

The Tap-Dancing Butt Crack

I used to think having twins would be great – one push; instant family. But had changed all that. Enjoy!


The warm water ran down my back, washing away 36 hours of sweat and grime. I systematically defunkified each of my body’s nether regions with my extremely manly loofah and inhaled the warm, misty scent of my 2-in-1 shampoo.

It was beautiful.

You should have been there. (But it’s probably for the best that you weren’t, because I was naked and that would have been awkward for you, due to the devastatingly chiseled one-pack bulging from my abs.)

As a parent of twins, I’ve grown to truly appreciate the quiet, reflective alone time a shower buys me, and twelve days into being a parent of three, I was absolutely loving the opportunity to finally hear myself think for five freaking seconds.

As you can probably imagine, adding a newborn to the mix has turned the Pseudonymous household into even more of a zoo than it already was. My wife and I…

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NYE blah

I am getting old. Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve and I don’t care.

I have no plans and will struggle to stay awake until midnight.

If someone called me up out of the blue and invited me to the most fabulous party ever, I would say no.

What is wrong with me?

You know, I used to be able to party with the best of them!

Ohhh, yeah!

I’ve gone to hidden, (pretentious) trendy bars in the city on NYE and partied like it was 1999 – which it probably was!

I did Hogmanay, peoples!

I danced in the streets of Edinburgh, kissed drunken Scottish boys and policemen (they were sober) and saw many a kilt lifted high and proud. Sure, I contracted whooping cough on 1 January and cracked a rib from coughing so much – but it was worth it, baby!

I’ve watched the sun come up and brought in the New Year with lots of hoots and hollers.

I held my breath at the dawn of the Millennium and waited for planes to fall from the sky and elevators to suddenly stop working. When nothing happened, I danced till dawn and chugged champagne.

So what will I be doing this year?

I will be making homemade pizzas and watching a movie with my children until about 8.30pm. Then I will put them to bed.

I will watch the fireworks telecast – feeling guilty that I like the Sydney fireworks more than the Melbourne ones – and trying to keep my eyes open.

Then I will wake the kids up  just before midnight, count down the seconds to 2015 and clap and cheer.

Then everyone will toddle off to bed.

May you all be partying as hard as I am tomorrow night!

Happy New Year and I hope 2015 is an absolute cracker!

Waiting for zen

I have just started very basic interval training so I can run a 5km fun run next October.

Yes, that’s right.I’ve given myself almost a year to run 5km. And, quite possibly, if you have ever seen me running (and I do use the term loosely) you may agree that it is not enough time!

Nup. No zen yet!
Nup. No zen yet!

At the moment, I am really struggling to find my inner zen during my runs.

Perhaps it’s due to the fact that I can’t seem to breathe and run at the same time. Or that I feel like my feet are barely lifting off the ground.

Whatever it is, I can’t find my running zen – that ability to just get lost in the moment of running.

It’s not happening. I think of EVERYTHING when I run – how hard it is; how weird my lungs feel without any air in them; how sore my shins, hamstrings, little toe, and earlobes feel; what I’ll do when I finish the run; what I need to do when I get to work; what I’ll do tomorrow before my next run; what would I spend  $10 million on if I won the lottery: and why am I continuing to eat kale when I really don’t like the taste?

I can’t meditate for the same reason. Or do yoga. Or anything else when you are meant to still your thoughts and just ‘be’.

I can’t ‘be’. I get stuck on me.

I worry that I’m not not thinking.That I’m not breathing properly – too shallow! I yell at myself silently to relax my muscles!

And to stop thinking about how uncomfortable sitting cross-legged is! And to fight the urge to open my eyes to see if everyone else has their eyes closed.

I really wish I could get into the zen zone. Everyone else who can find it seems so chilled and easygoing. But it eludes me!

Have you got zen in your life? How do you find it?

You can do that?! Wow.

The other day I was running/shufflling/tripping/walking around the local athletics track and was being lapped by a young guy who was running so effortlessly and beautifully that I couldn’t help but tell him how impressed I was.

Wearing white AND linen - you know it's a rare skill, don't you?
Wearing white AND linen – you know it’s a rare skill, don’t you?

And it made me think of all the things that people do that impress me no end (warning: it’s a pretty shallow list):

  • People that can run without looking like they are about to expire.
  • People that can wear white clothes without spilling food on them.
  • People that can wear linen without looking like they have been sleeping in their clothes.
  • People that can wear hats without looking like a young school child.
  • People that can write music or songs. I think the ability to produce such magic out of thin air are absolute marvels.
  • People that have never smacked their children. Your tolerance and patience humbles me.
  • People that can do maths – and apply it to everyday situations.
  • People that can remember names.
  • People that can reverse down a driveway.
  • People that can go to the gym and not sweat buckets.
  • People that can wink.
  • People that can do that cool whistle that makes taxis stop.

I take my hat off to you all!

What would your list include?

The green eyed monster

To the stay-at-home Mums in my suburb (warning: contains bitterness borne out of jealousy):

I’m jealous.

I’m jealous that you seem to have all the time in the world in the morning to get yourself dressed and your little cherubs ready for school. You don’t know that the house you all walk past with the white car in the driveway contains a woman who is only just stepping in to the shower, after having a miserable morning dealing with tired children, when she should be heading to the school drop off.

I’m jealous that you get to walk your children to school in the morning sunshine, sharing lovely jokes and enjoying some special bonding moments. I see you all as I am driving past, cursing the 40km/h speed zone because I am once again running late to get my children to school and then to get myself to work on time.

I’m jealous that you al seem to have the time to chat to each other once school starts, keeping yourselves up to date with all the latest school events. Meanwhile, I am the one who arrives at school with the only children who are not dressed up in yellow for some fundraising event; causing us all to hop back in the car, race in to the house, get changed and race back to school. Of course, then I have to walk the hall of shame to the School Office to sign my children in, as they are so late and have missed the roll.

jealousI’m jealous because I assume you always have the house running smoothly, and there are always freshly made healthy snacks for the children to eat when they get home and a nutritious dinner on the boil, ready to be served at the sensible time of 5.30pm – leaving plenty of time for some family togetherness. I think of you as I walk in the door at 6.15pm and head straight to the kitchen to whip up a meal that only takes 10 minutes to cook so we can fit in bath time and a book before bed.

I’m also thankful that you answer my panicked texts at 8.15am when I need to know if today is the day the children are heading off to the excursion; or to check if it is Nude Food Day, and therefore whether I need to un-Glad Wrap their lunches.

I’m thankful for your sweet smiles of understanding as I arrive at school in a mad flap because I have dropped one of the many balls I try to keep up in the air.

Please forgive my steely looks as I see you walk past my house in the morning, assuming (wrongly) that you haven’t a care in the world, while I feel like the world is on my shoulders. It’s only because I am jealous…and tired.