Food, sweat and fears...

Sundays - lattes and baked goods and crossword puzzles.  Movies in the afternoon, a roast of animal and things made of spuds, finally curling up with a good book and a good brandy...ahhhh. Sundays...

Did you catch that at no time in the above idyllic scenario did I mention any form of activity? Apart from moving from location to location, not a whole lot happening by way of getting the blood flowing.  

But not this Sunday.  Oh no, up I got, got dressed and hoofed it over to the local grocery store and bought the makings of a reasonable, I'm-so-virtuous breakfast.  Fruit, yoguort, eggs (eggs are good for you.  Not 8 at one sitting, but one or 2 in an omelette is just fine.  Protein, children, get your protein!) Back home I marched, even broke a sweat doing so.  Got in, unloaded my booty and...what's that on the kitchen table?

My DF (dear friend - you'll hear about him alot) had made biscotti, threw some in a bag and had given them to me 2 days ago (night of the beer-wall).  Mmmmm, biscotti and coffee for breaky...ok, no eggs, I'll have the biscotti and fruit and yoguort.  Not ideal but it's Sunday...

So let's put away the eggs.  I opened the fridge.  And then I heard it:

Remember me, Lili?  I've been waiting for you...

A ramekin of pork rillettes was luring me with it's siren call of piggy-deliciousness.  Familiar with this gastronomic marvel?  Seasoned, shredded pork, sitting in its own fat, left to chill in the fridge so the lard provides a protective barrier.  But nothing, no thin layer of fat is gonna get between me and the rillette.  We were meant for each other.  I almost proposed...

Biscotti, fat pork and coffee.  That's it kids - the secret to happiness.  Breakfast of champions.

ARRRRRGH!!!

Alright, alright, no need to panic.  Today is also a workout day.  Over the holidays I purchased a box of workout goodies care of the good people at Women's Health magazine.  Stability ball, resistance tubing, another weighted hand-held ball and jump rope.  An excerise plan/poster as well, online support...a wealth of stuff that promises to get me on the path to babe-dom.  It also says my middle will be bikini ready in 6 weeks.  It may be bikini ready, people ready?  Not so much....

And so I did my first proper workout in months. Was sweating within minutes.  My face hot and tomato red, which totally clashes with my kick-ass outfit. Didn't die, completed everything. I now wish to set fire to the box and its contents. 

Nobody looks good in a squat.  Doing crunches on the ball - every time you raise your head, you see the expanse of belly and I couldn't help but liken it to the Russian steppe.  Jump rope?? Are you kidding me??? My knees were crying for mercy. I'm gonna need them one of these days (which reminds me, I keep threatening to tell you of my dating life. Too soon...)

I don't hurt now, but I knoooooow tomorrow morning I will be a mass of cramp and sore. 

And something tripped in my head.  I was sitting here, in my workout clothes still, and frankly not feeling discouraged, but scared.  What if I don't find the right balance of diet and excercise?  What if I try and try and nothing happens?  What if I give up again as I've done so many times before and never achieve the babe-ness but remain ever-blob?  And (horrors!) what will you think of me???

I showered, had some lemon water, and gave myself a good mental shaking.
"Lili, just shut up and do it.  If one thing doesn't work, try another.  You're not the first one, you won't be the last, but guaranteed you will fail if you defeat yourself.  Remember why you are blogging - to show an average woman embarking on an average journey and sharing each success, failure and foible along the way. To give, and maybe even get.  No one judges.  If they can identify, that is enough."

Blogger, heal thyself.

LiliLaLarge

PS-Mother Nature is intent on bitch-slapping us with a howling mad day.  Blustery and snowy, but I'm going for a walk.  People can admire my boots. I give and I give....