Sunday, 24 January 2010

Ah, the mighty Weight Watchers leader.

So - it's been a while since I was at Fat Class.  Enough time for most of my weight to go back on.  Dammit.  Oh well, at least I can be big enough (hello - the problem here, I think?!) to stand up and admit I need to go back to Fat Class and get back on the straight and narrow.  I also swallowed my pride and joined a gym again.  Yes, with emphasis on the again.  I don't think there'll ever be a time when I'll look like Heidi Klum, and not like Roseanne Barr.  Anyhoo.

So, after being weighed and finding that I'd only lost 2.5 lbs ( I fully expect to lose 14 lbs every least, I always hope), I took a seat, and waited to be inspired by our leader in all things non-cake.  Ready to listen to her pearls of wisdom, recipe ideas and tips on how to perform a home jaw wiring procedure.

She started talking about exercise.  I was feeling quietly smug with msyelf.  I'd been to the gym 5 times that week.  Nearly killing myself every time. (Damn that treadmill.  It's the work of the devil.)  I waited to hear how she told everyone how important it is to exercise, and how they should look to me as their shining example, and that they should come to me for tips and hints.

Ok - maybe too far with that, but suffice to say, I was feeling ready to hear things I already knew.

So, I was wrong.

According to the mighty Weight Watchers leader, I shouldn't be going to the gym.  As a "heavy" person, I "don't want to go to the gym and kill yourself in the classes".  As a "fat" person, I "don't want to be on the treadmill, working up a sweat".  And swimming?  You don't want to "grease yourself in to a swimsuit and go swimming.  You'd create a tsunami!"

(And to reiterate.  The use of " " IS correct.  She DID say these things.  No paraphrasing.)


Here's her good ideas on exercise. 

Sitting on your sofa, pedalling one of those pedal things, for no more than 10 minutes at a time.  My gran's got one.  She's 86.

Go up the stairs instead of the escalator.  I've only got stairs in my house. ;)

Carry your shopping to the car, instead of taking the trolley to the car.

Put the radio on, and dance to some music.

And there you have it.  I've clearly got it wrong.  Obviously, I'm never going to lose the 14 lbs a week if I keep going to the gym.  I need to abandon that silly notion, and mug my gran for her pedal machine.  (What ARE those things called?!)

By the way - you all owe me £4.95.  Cos I've basically just given you a free Weight Watchers class.

Cash only.

Friday, 8 January 2010

Get outta my dreams...

So, Billy Ocean may have had pleasant dreams about hot looking chicas, and getting them in to his car.  On a side note, if Billy were to pick me up in his car, all I'd want, is to be taken to a McDonald's drive-thru.  I think, medically, physiologically, my body NEEDS Big Macs and chocolate milkshakes.  It's science.  I can't argue with fact.  And on another side note, who else feels like a complete TOOL, asking for their products, and having to prefix everything with Mc.  I once asked for a kids meal with chicken pieces.  The girl (with 5 stars on her badge -  she must have been the supervisor, or summit..) stared at me blankly, just wondering what the hell I was talking about.  Maybe she thought I was a spy from Burger King.  Maybe she was just so pro-the-use-of-Mc, that she refused to take any order unless i used the 'correct' terminology for it.  Pfft. 

Anyway.  back to dreams, Billy Ocean etc.  Today, it was like someone looked in to my brain, saw my worst nightmare, and let me live it out in real life.  Where there's no respite.  Where there's no hope of waking up, and feeling the sweet sense of relief pouring over me.

Today, we had to take Eggy and Hannah to the doctor's to get their swine flu jabs.  No big deal.  I can get my head round that.  But to take them to the surgery and find it FULL of other kids... some crying, some shouting, some pulling hair, some just sitting, staring in to space, clearly as horrified as I was.

I'm not a fan of kids.

What!?  Don't lie.  Neither are you.. really.  I mean - other people's kids.  Come on - admit it.  See?  Told you.  I'm just honest about it.. ;)

There is my nightmare.  A room full of kids.  And their parents.  And the unsaid parenting contest that goes on.  There's the mother who INSISTS on reading to her child, and saying in a too loud voice "come on darling, i know you love the story of Macbeth, remember you read it to me that time we were at home eating crudities and hummus, just before the spanish teacher arrived to teach you your spanish verbs?"

The kid is 5.

Or, the speaking in the third person.  "Darling, you're hurting mummy's arm leaning on it like that.  How would you like it if mummy were to lean on your arm?  Yes, that's what mummy was saying.. don't do it, darling."

The kid is 15.

And then just all the kids.  So many kids.  TOO many kids.

I seem to be the Pied Piper of kids.  They seem to flock to me.  Even doing the school run, all of Eilidh's school mates seem to come to me to say hello, and to tell me their tales of Golden Time, and their projects, and who was naughty in class.  I must just have a face on me, that encourages childlike banter.  In my mind, i'm like Rocky, where he's running, and all the kids are running alongside him.  He seems not to mind.  But I would have stopped running, turned around, and told them to beat it.  And probably not be able to get started running again, thus then fuelling my disdain for the pesky kids.

In fact, any place where there are kids, seems to grind my gears. When I see adverts on the telly, i think - great- some chillaxing beside the pool.  And then they advertise activities for the kids.  Then the red flag in my brain goes up and yells ALERT, ALERT!  Children + holiday =  NO HOLIDAY!

I don't think I'll ever get over my grouchiness towards large gatherings of kids.  I wonder if there's a name for it.  A technical term.  Then at least, i could be excused for feeling this way..

"Claire?  No - she won't want to come to the kids' party.  She's got Childrephobia."

"Oh, really?  Such a shame.  She seems fabulous"

"Yes - she really is fantastic.  It's amazing she does so much, despite this chronic condition"

I'm going to CREATE this condition.  Maybe I'll even insert an entry to Wikipedia, cos you know, once it's in there, it's true.