Last night was the first summers evening that warranted Summer Wear. We live in an area where Winter is cold and Summer is hot. NO mild temperature here!
The First Summers Evening (F.S.E), always evokes a little a frisson of fear and disapointment in myself. Like, why didn’t I stick to that diet? I should have plucked those stray hairs off my chin and why oh why was I too lazy to shave my legs and ‘pits? Frustrating stuff…
Last night was NO different. I was surrounded by pedicured feet painted in Lincoln park after dark, black/ blue nailpolish, some in pretty pinks etc. Mine were okay, average if you will. While putting on my sandals on Saturday I saw chipped nailpolish on my toes and did a quick patch up job by painting a bright coral over the toenails. (Yes, I’m hanging my head in shame…)
I tried to cover my white upper arms with as long a sleeve as possible. Just long/short enough not to produce small beads of perspiration on my top lip from overheating. The result was…….sigh sigh sigh. Okay. Not great. just okay.
Well, it’s done now. I’ve exposed this pale hairy apparition to the people. Let me be off and try and do some damage control….
Have you ever felt thin and then something happens and that feeling disappears? That happened to me on Saturday. I played tennis and we went to the club for drinks afterwards.
The thing that happened…….I sat on a bar stool. Flattened thunder thighs, all the weight resting around my midriff and all I could think of was an apple balancing on a toothpick!
Also the time I wore a red top with teeny white polka dots on it. I twirled around feeling good but slightly doubtful. My husband said I looked like a burst Russian sausage!
mmmmmh…. There was no sizzle in the pan for a GOOD few days after that!
I have an Aunt who loves to eat but doesn’t really LOVE food. She isn’t really a foodie, lover of different fresh flavours, exotic cuisine or anything of the sort. Her idea of a culinary treat is to go to the Wimpy on a Saturday morning and order a double thick strawberry milkshake. If she feels like it, she’ll order a second!
We had lunch at our house once, and over the Christmas season, everybody brings their share and we all lay it out on the table and help ourselves. The menu on that day was cold meats and salads. My mom laid out her beautiful platter of cold leg of mutton and cold chicken and salads. Aunty L hauled out her tins of sweetcorn, baked beans and
(bright, illlumenscent) polony. My mother’s face?…………………………………………..priceless.
Now meal times at our house are a frikkin hoot. On the one hand we have my Aunt L and my mom (sisters) and my Dad and Aunt L’s husband (brothers). Yes, correct, two brothers married two sisters. They have two daughters and we have three girls in our family. Me, being the middle daughter. It’s loud. We take the mickey out of everybody. Our husbands literally cower in fear. My Afrikaans brother-in-law mistakenly said fondoe once instead of Fondue. With an ue sound. That happened in 1991. We still roar with laughter over it and mock him. He doesn’t dare answer back.
This Christmas I’m spending three weeks with the family. I’m rather excited at the prospect. There’s NEVER a dull moment. The first week is painful and all your senses scream to get you out of there, the second week is awesome and you get into the kooky rhythm and the third week you start counting down the days to normality. Just like everybody else…….. I guess?
You know the rule that states very clearly that:”If no-one sees you eat it, it doesn’t count”. Well at the moment I’m on Weigh Less so am feeling very motivated and full of gees. I had to use a LOT of self discipline this morning not to eat the Death by Chocolate cake.
I went for coffee at the local coffee shop and was VERY tempted. I would like to be the girl that delicately pushes her plate away, cocks her head to one side and says with a smile: “oooooh no, I couldn’t possibly have anymore.”. Well the truth of the matter is, I could.
I could have a slice of cake with Cherry at 10am, then Sam at 11-30am and then rush to friends for lunch and polish a plate of pudding with ease.
My sweet tooth will probably be the death of me. In fact I can tell the differnce between Cadbury’s in the U.K and Cadbury’s here in South Africa. I worked in the UK in 2000 and found I preferred Cadbury’s from back home. I don’t know why? However, must just say, that the 500g slabs in the UK were superior to the 100g slabs here! I wonder why?
My sisters and I all love sweet things. Christmas lunch revolves around the decor and pudding. We say pudding in our family, not dessert! Anyone caught saying dessert will render the whole lounge into guffaws of laughter and side splitting shrieks of mocking giggles. “Whose trying to be all larny?” one would be asked through snorts from the nose. Straight down the line, unpretentious lot that they are.
All this talk of chocolate is making me salivate. Must go and drink some more water.
Did I tell you about the time I had my bust measured? My mom calls them bosoms, maramachunga’s.(say ma-ra-mu-chung-ga-s). I walked into the little cubicle a sheepish 44 DD. That size is bad enough…..until….she announced my…… “it”. I say announce because I think residents and shoppers alike might have heard the woman 3 suburbs away. In fact it echo-ed and resonated throughout the shopping centre: “EEEEEEEEE….EEEEEEEEE.EEEEEEEEEEEE!” Yes, a mortifying 44E! I mean who has boobs that size? (Clearly me…)
It took me a cool half hour of shell shocked embaressment to come to my senses. It is now 44E….. E for ecstasy! That’s what I tell anyone if they may ask, per chance, one fine evening or one fine summers day.
Well, I actually bought it yesterday with seven thousand of my hard earned rond! John set it up for me, I put on my new tracksuit pants excercise gear, I bought from Woolies and then I proceeded to click, click, click until I found the correct speed. I think I lasted 1 and a half minutes before collapsing onto my bed. I must admit I carried on for another twenty minutes and 350mls of water later.
I suffer from obesity. Severe obesity. Not fat girl driving through Macdonalds for 10 burgers, 20 fries and 5 double thick shakes and appearing on Oprah kinda obese, more like obese from two kids, too many slabs o choc, another slice of cake and can I please have R20 biltong with lotsa fat on it! That kind of a porky, ten ton pentecnikon. I grew up in a family of three girls and we have lots of names for being fat. “thunder thighs” “ten ton tessie””ten ton pentecnikon”” beached whale””walrus” too name a few.
My sisters are both weight aware and maintain their weight very well. I on the other hand have a ‘live life and sort it out later” kind of attitude. Unfortunately I’m almost 40 (in a few years time) and it’s arrived. The day of reckoning. Now or never. I have a wedding come up in January and I want to be 20 kgs thinner.
I want to wear a strapless, Sarah Jessica Parker dress. Strapless, tight around the waist and flared out skirt below the knee. I’m seeing this dress in my mind and I want it!
So, today I started excercise regime 198 786 567, 56. That’s how many I’ve started in my life by the way. Today I remain positive and feel pleased I got my fat ass on that treadmill instead of baking the Chocolate Coconut Clusters I planned to bake. I’d already found the recipe in YOU Let’s Cook Top 500 Recipes by Carmen Niehaus. 1 for me and ZERO Coconut Clusters. Who’s your mamma! I’m the winner! hee hee!
see you later bitches…