Gullibility Virus Spread Over Internet!

WARNING! – CAUTION! – DANGER! – BEWARE!

Gullibility Virus Spread Over Internet!

WASHINGTON, D.C. The Institute for the Investigation of Irregular Internet Phenomena announced today that many Internet users are becoming infected by a new virus that causes them to believe without question every groundless story, legend, and dire warning that shows up in their Inbox or on their browser. The Gullibility Virus, as it is called, apparently makes people believe and forward copies of silly hoaxes relating to cookie recipes, email viruses, taxes on modems, and get-rich-quick schemes [perhaps conspiracy theories should be included here].

“These are not just readers of tabloids or people who buy lottery tickets based on fortune cookie numbers,” a spokesman said. “Most are otherwise normal people, who would laugh at the same stories if told to them by a stranger on a street corner.” However, once these same people become infected with the Gullibility Virus, they believe anything they read on the Internet.

“My immunity to tall tales and bizarre claims is all gone,” reported one weeping victim. “I believe every warning message and sick child story my friends forward to me, even though most of the messages are anonymous.”

Another victim, now in remission, added, “When I first heard about ‘Good Times,’ I just accepted it without question. After all, there were dozens of other recipients on the mail header, so I thought the virus must be true.” It was a long time, the victim said, before she could stand up at a Hoaxees Anonymous meeting and state, “My name is Jane, and I’ve been hoaxed.” Now, however, she is spreading the word. “Challenge and check whatever you read,” she says.

Internet users are urged to examine themselves for symptoms of the virus, which include the following:

• the willingness to believe improbable stories without thinking
• the urge to forward multiple copies of such stories to others
• a lack of desire to take three minutes to check to see if a story is true

T. C. is an example of someone recently infected. He told one reporter, “I read on the Net that the major ingredient in almost all shampoos makes your hair fall out, so I’ve stopped using shampoo.” When told about the Gullibility Virus, T. C. said he would stop reading e-mail, so that he would not become infected.

Anyone with symptoms like these is urged to seek help immediately. Experts recommend that at the first feelings of gullibility, Internet users rush to their favourite search engine and look up the item tempting them to thoughtless credence. Most hoaxes, legends, and tall tales have been widely discussed and exposed by the Internet community.

Courses in critical thinking are also widely available, and there is online help from many sources, including

• Hoaxbusters http://hoaxbusters.ciac.org/
• Datafellows Hoax Warnings http://www.f-secure.com/

Those people who are still symptom free can help inoculate themselves against the Gullibility Virus by reading some good material on evaluating sources, such as

• Evaluation of Information Sources http://www.vuw.ac.nz/staff/alastair_smith/evaln/evaln.htm
• Guide for Evaluating Internet Resources  http://www.uwe.ac.uk/library/resources/general/internet/eval.htm

Lastly, as a public service, Internet users can help stamp out the Gullibility Virus by sending copies of this message to anyone who forwards them a hoax.

Source: http://lowendmac.com/virus.shtml

To all my grown ass women…

Sis Slaine sent me this little gem and I thought I’d share it with you guys.

Never be caught in the “Girls” category – make sure your place as a “Grown Woman” is known at all times.

1. Girls leave their schedule wide-open and wait for a guy to call and make plans. Grown women make their own plans and nicely tell the guy to get in where he fits in.
2. Girls want to control the man in their life. Grown women know that if he’s truly hers, he doesn’t need controlling.
3. Girls check the man for not calling them. Grown women are too busy to realize he didn’t.
4. Girls try to put a man ‘on lock’ by using sex. Grown women know that it’s the sex of the mental kind that makes a man want to ‘lock’ you down.
5. Girls fake-moan, lay there and take the stabbing. Grown women say, “Just stop”, get up, get dressed and walk out.
6. Girls are afraid to be alone. Grown women revel in it, using it as a time for personal growth.
7. Girls ignore the good guys. Grown women ignore the bad guys.
8. Girls make him cum. Grown women make him come home
9. Girls worry about not being pretty or good enough for their man. Grown women know that they are pretty and good enough for any man.
10. Girls try to monopolize all their man’s time (i.e don’t want him hanging with his friends). Grown women realize that a lil’ bit of space makes the ‘together time’ even more special and goes to kick it with her own friends!
11. Girls think a guy crying is weak. Grown women offer their shoulder and a tissue.
12. Girls get hurt by one man and make all men pay for it. Grown women knows that he was just one man.
13. Girls fall in love, chase aimlessly after the object of their affection, ignoring all the ’signs’. Grown women know that sometimes the one you love doesn’t always love you back and move on, without bitterness.
14. Most Importantly: Girls will read this and get an attitude. Grown women will read this and pass it on to other Grown Women!

Is that the beginning of an energy boost?

Day 6: Exercise: Walking 40 mins. Food: 2118 kcal, 273g of carbs, 90g protein and 80g fat. 4 cups of water, 2 cups of tea and 1 cup of coffee. Supplements: 1 multi vitamin. No alcohol – 2 B&H. Had strange headache that calmed down of its own. Still a little smelly but not sweating as much – just feeling slightly ‘clammy’.

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I can’t believe when I go to bed tonight I have completed a full week of healthier living! I have already made a number of choices this week that I’m proud of.

• I have had no processed food at all.
• I’ve had at least 10 portions of fruit and veg every day.
• I’ve at least doubled my water intake.
• I have had two opportunities to drink alcohol and several opportunities to drink coffee but I’ve chosen healthier options instead.
• I have had a few fags, but the ones I’ve had I’ve really sat down and enjoyed and there hasn’t been any quick ones to handle stress/boredom/anger/etc/etc.
• I haven’t had any nictotine gums or any regular ones either, for that matter.
• I sqeezed an extra biking session in where I would normally just have sat on a chair.

I guess you could argue that this is far from a perfect diet, and you would be right. But I’m not claiming to be on a perfect diet or following a diet that would work for someone else. The main purpose of Operation Detox is to look after my body with the same love and pride I look after my brain. To make better choices and to think twice before adding chemicals and rubbish to my system. And to figure out how my stimulus – response system works. It has been on auto-pilot for so many years that most of the time I’m not even aware of what I’m doing.

Today is Friday and I’m off to Ealing to work. Teaching Organisational Behaviour this morning and seeing my teacher training candidates in the afternoon. It’s not even 7am yet and I’ve been awake for more than an hour. I’ve written this blog post, I’ve checked my mail and done some paperwork. Now I’m gonna have a maoment on my bike before hitting the shower and heading off to work. I think the energy boost I was hoping for is beginning to build inside me! =)

My love is a cunt, really…

Day 5: Exercise: 1hr on the exercise bike. Food: 1724 kcal, 308g of carbs, 40g protein and 48g fat. 3 cups of water and 2 cups of tea. Supplements: 1 multi vitamin. No alcohol or tobacco. Not quite as tired and weepy, but still sweating out some smelly stuff. Had a strange taste in mouth all day as well.

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Yesterday I didn’t exactly get off to a good start. John managed to drive off to work without me!!! Having first dropped Mum off to church and then found himself engaged in conversation with some people, his brain was now set on getting to work and the fact that I was not in the van – or that I should have been in the van – didn’t quite register on his radar. Until he was half way there. Sheepishly, and ever so apologetically, he phoned me and asked could I possibly get on the train and he’d come get me from the station?

It didn’t turn out that bad. There’s this new little coffee shop on the platform where you can borrow books for free in exchange for one of your old books, so I got myself a cuppa and two new books. The journey takes just over an hour, so I made it through the first chapters of Chesnutt’s The house behind the cedar tree. It’s a story about a mixed race brother and sister who after the US civil war moves cities pretending to be white folk. Upon arrival in Ealing, John was parked up outside the station as promised and we arrived at work together as planned – just a little behind schedule. I guess I could have been angry, but to be honest I have been known to drive off somewhere without one or two of my kids on a couple of occasions, so I know all to well what it’s like when your mind is locked on target… =)

I woke up earlier than ususal and didn’t have any problems getting out of bed. I did my exercise as a good girl should and felt like I could have done more. At work – apart from spending some time googling nasty pics of excrements – I got loads of work done. When we got back home after work, we sat in the garden for over an hour. John in a chair having a drink – me on the bike doing a second round of exercise.

I whipped up some food and we retreated to the bedroom to order a cool paisley pattern walking stick for Mum online. John then lost himself in browsing for vintage watches and I started the long-winded process of doing my nails. I love having long nails and I take great pride in decorating them and making them look nice. John, on the other hand, thinks that long nails are disgusting and that my hands signals to all the men we meet that I can’t cook or clean. (I have yet to figure out why we should bother about what random men may think about my domestic goddess skills, but it is clearly of vital importance to him.) Last year I cut them down to please him. I felt like my fingers had been reduced to stubby sausages, but he was well happy. But after a year of pleasing him I thought it was about time I pleased myself so I let them grow out again. Last night we reached a compromise and they were cut down to half their length. Who knew the length of a nail would ever be the subject of relationship arguments? =)

Actually, arguments is not a fair description of the state of affairs in this relationship. We don’t have arguments. We do disagree on a number of subjects, but we have never had a heated argument. As much as we both like to talk a lot and put our opinions forward, we are also good listeners and we seem to be very good at making each other understand where we’re coming from. That makes it easy to compromise. After all, you want to make your partner happy and if both of you want the other half to be happy then it’s a win-win situation. But John loves a good discussion and I secretly believe that he has some stubborn principle about not agreeing with me too often for fear I might get too big-headed or something. He is nothing if not contrary and I often find myself wondering if he really disagrees with me or if he’s just being contrary. Yesterday, I said “You’re just being contrary!” but what he heard me saying was “You’re just being a cunt, really!” That had us both in stitches, but something tells me I’ll never hear the end of it… =)

So, last night I went to bed feeling that I had on the whole had a very good day. I’d got more work done than I had expected, I had eaten well, done more exercise than planned and was actually feeling pretty damn good about myself. I suppose the fact that I got to cuddle up with Mr Cunt, Really contributed to my feeling of extreme happpiness and well-being, but I’d like to think that some of it stemmed from five full days of eating nothing but healthy food, drinking loads of fluids and nurturing my body. Roll on Day 6!

Are you ready to chat some shit?

Day 4: Exercise: No comment… Food: 1594 kcal, 200g of carbs, 95g protein and 45g fat. 6 cups of water and 2 cups of tea. Supplements: 1 multi vitamin. No alcohol, but half of a B&H. Too tired to function properly and felt like my brain had been coated in cotton wool. I also realised I was giving off some strange, almost metallic, body odour.

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Are we expecting some severe thunderstorms this week, or is it just my body going bonkers? I swear I have a funny smell, and I’m sweating profusely today. And now I’m going to say something that may offend sensitive readers, so if that is you – please stop reading here and move on to the next paragraph ok. You have been warned. No sensitive readers left? Ok, here we go then. Over the past couple of days I have been to the loo so many times I am now beginning to think I must have the marks of that seat imprinted on my backside. I seem to pee water (i.e. there’s no colour to my pee) and the other stuff we deposit in that place has also changed completely. What little there is doesn’t smell much and it has an altogether differnent consistency. I apologise for talking about such matters here, but you can’t really deal with the subject of a healthier lifestyle without delving into the deeper areas of change as well.

I have done some googling today (I guess that’s technically theft as I’m at work) and it seems that during a detox the body starts ridding itself of all nastiness that has been encapsulated within you for god knows how long. Hence the smell. And the sweat. I also read something really yucky about how toxins we get from food, drink, smoking and inhaling all sorts of bad stuff from the air we breathe are stored away in fat cells and in plaque in the colon because our bodies can’t break it down. The more wretched nasty stuff we have inside us, the more likely we are to have problems with anything from bloating and indigestion to bad sleeping patterns and skin problems. Apparently, you can clean your insides by following some kind of herbal cleansing regime. I think that may well be something I’d like to try. I saw some horrific pictures of what can be washed out of your system in a proper cleansing and the sheer thought that I might have something like that lurking inside me makes me feel sick.

So, what else is there to report? Well, I don’t feel quite as weepy today. Maybe because all other parts of my body are excreting fluids and whatnots. Maybe because the worst part of the fast is done now. I guess we’ll soon find out. Until then, it may be a good idea to get some work done… =)

A tout a l’heure!

I’m sure sleep is as important as exercise!

Day 3: Exercise: Does walking to and from the car + to and from the classrooms and my office count?? Food: 1682 kcal, 311g of carbs, 57g protein and 28g fat. 2 cups of water, 4 cups of tea and 1 cup of coffee. Supplements: Nothing. No alcohol, but 1 B&H. Was close to tears a number of times, but had excellent support all day and all night which helped.

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Yesterday, I had planned to get up at 5 and do an hour on the bike. I did wake up at 5, but as I had only slept for 2 hours nothing in this world could have got me to get up on that bike. Instead, I did the classical mistake of deciding to do it after work. And ended up coming home from work at 3.30am in the morning. Guess how many minutes I spent on the bike then? Correct – zilch! So water intake and excercise were not exactly things to be proud of yesterday. And neither, I guess, is that B&H that’s lirking up there in my vital stats. So let’s deal with that right away, shall we?

I have loved smoking since I was just a little kid. My beloved nan smoked and, as she was my hero, I wanted to smoke too. I also believe that I early came to associate the smell of tobacco with a sense of love and security. And here’s the silly bit – I hate smoking beacuse smokers smell like old ashtrays and because I could do so many things with that money. (Yeah, I know it kills you nand all that, but that has never been the driving force behind my decisions to quit the fags.) Anyway, once I went cold turkey and stayed off them completely for 7 years. Didn’t as much as touch one in the whole time. But I never stopped wanting one! Think dog that can smell bitch in heat and you know what I was like at the smell of a nice cigarette.

In recent years I have been on and off them in intervals of a number of months – that number being X * Y where X = # of fags and Y = the collective weight of current stress and frustration divided by (the concentration needed to juggle too many roles and responsibilities whilst being wooried sick about John’s health and its implications for our future times 24). When I’ve been off the fags I have been chewing nicotine replacement gums and been cool with that for a while. But gradually, I’ve been chewing more and more gum until my jaws have been sore and the sheer thought of having another gum has made me feel queasy. Not the nicest of feelings. This time I have decided that there will be no gums unless there is no other way. And that even half a fag might be better than this constant tricking of the body into thinking it’s getting what it wants.

Last night after work we went to this Asian shop and bought live crab and squid and some other bits and bobs. Then we went to see one of John’s mates. I was tired after a long day. I was hungry and really looking forward to some crab. Food and our bed were my top priorities, but they were not John’s. So, there I was sitting with two men who had a few drinks and swere smoking like chimneys. I had tea instead of alcohol (I’m proud to say!) and although I could have sold my soul for a fag I din’t have one. Until after midnight when I had one before falling asleep on the couch.

I woke up at 3am in a dark and silent room. John was wide awake wanting to go home (but his mate had gone to bed) but he didn’t want to wake me up. (He knows I hate being woken up and he hates it as much as I do so we try to avoid waking each other if we can). “But…” I sad slightly confused the way you are when you have woken up on the wrong side of things “I could have slept until morning!” Said John: “Not on that couch you couldn’t have.” And he sure had a point – I felt tlike I had slept in a stationery cupboard.

Half an hour later (what a difference it makes when there’s no traffic) we happily got into our own bed and that was the end iof that day. My thoughts could not have been further from more exercise or anything remotely healthy. In fact, I’m prepared to swear that cuddled up with me man getting a few hours of proper sleep might have been the healthiest I’ve been in a long time. And tomorrow will always be another day… =)

Cold and miserable on day 3…

Day 2: Exercise: 1hr on the exercise bike. Food: 1729 calories, 236g of carbs, 65g protein and 69g fat. 8 cups of water, 1 cup of tea and 2 cups of coffee. Supplements: 1 multi vitamin. No alcohol or tobacco. Felt moody and suffered from Leaky Eye Syndrome most of the day.

So I managed to get more fluid through the system yesterday. The calorie intake was a little too low. Nothing bad was put into the system and my food consisted of fruit all day and a little lamb beef with 4 small eggs for dinner (and protein). I really should stock up on green teas (yuk!) again. The taste like boiled lawn, mud and straw, but they’re full of antioxidants and “good fi ya” to quote John. I’d love to know why everything that’s supposedly good for me either tastes bad or is really boring…

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It’s 7am and I’m awake and I’ve got a splitting headache. I have hardly slept at all as some lovely young people (read kids with friends, girlfriends etc) kept me awake until 3am when the last ones finally went to bed. At 5, when I had planned to get up and get on the bike, the first ones were just getting up and that triggered some kind of system shutdown in me. I am not getting up after only two hours of sleep!

The energy boost has not kicked in yet. I’m cold and moody. My body feels like someone’s injected lead in my veins over night, and my head is clearly about to self combust. I want to feel sand between my toes and the sun on my face, whilst holding a cool drink in my left hand and a B&H in my right. But, alas, I have to get real and drag my lazy backside into the shower and get ready for work.

…

Aaaaarrrggggghhhhh!!!! The shower was COLD again and now I’m feeling positively frozen! I’m going to throttle my landlord one of these days! Surely, having access to hot water is a fairly reasonable request in London in 2009???

Oh well, enough of the complaints. With a bag full of fruit and a big bottle of (tap) water I am off to teach some Marketing Management in the morning and to supervise my Teacher Training students in the afternoon. John said he’d get up so we could go together, but he’s been on daddy duty this weekend so I think he needs his sleep. I’ll leave him to wake up when he’s ready and head for the station.

Have a good day – I shall do my very best to survive mine…

Commencing Operation Detox

Day 1: 2281 calories, 377g of carbs, 60g protein and 58g fat. 4 cups of water, 1 pint of soft drink and 1 cup of coffee. No supplements, no alcohol, no tobacco and no exercise. Felt moody and suffered from Leaky Eye Syndrome most of the day. Could have killed for a fag.

Calorie intake yesterday was good (I should try to stay just under 2500). Carbs will soar when you do loads of fruit so for now that’s ok too. Protein/fat not ideal but it was what I wanted. 4 cups of water are at least 4 too few, so will have to do better today. I don’t know why I keep forgetting the supplements. They are next to our bed so I really don’t have an excuse. Will take some now. Proud to say I resisted the urge to light up, although it was tough, and I also resisted the nicotine gums. Not so proud to say I didn’t exercise at all. As for the mood… I have no comments yet.

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So Operation Detox has commenced and I’m not dancing on the tables here. Can someone explain to me why I find it so hard, not to say impossible, to do something for myself? If John wants something I’ll walk a mile to get it. Happily. If he wants something for me, I’ll still walk a mile to get it. I might whinge and complain, failing to see why he wants it, but I’ll still do it. So, where does that dedication go when I want to do something for myself?

Since we first met, John and I have had numerous verbal battles concerning my priorities and my focus in life. One of them always rolls along the lines of:

Him: “Who’s the most important person in your life?”

Me: “You are!”

Him: “No, I’m not having that. It’s not good enough, baby!”

And since this first started, I’ve always believed that what’s not good enough for him is my conviction. The sincerity behind the statement. I’d be hurt that he wouldn’t believe me and next time he’d ask I’d give him the same answer with even more emphasis on the word “you”. With the same result. But one day something happened. One of his friends was visiting and we were sitting in the garden having a drink together. He was saying something about how he envied us our relationship and then he went off on a trot about his sad track record with women. Something about Rastaman and Respect and then he lost me completely until he said something about no woman ever beating him and we cracked up laughing. John said: “Go on and slap him one!” His mate said I’d better not or else. Brilliant!

It was all in good humour but I still felt trapped. See, normally I’d do anything for him, but slapping people around just for the hell of it is a completely different kettle of fish. So here was a problem. He’s quite proud of me and I could tell that his pride kinda expected me to show his mate that I’d do as I was told even if it was to jokingly slap someone’s face. I could also tell that his Mr Rastaman mate really meant business with his “or else”. John thought my reluctance to do as I was told was down to my being afraid of his mate’s retaliation. This vexed him as he now assumed that I thought he’d let anyone hurt me. What he failed to see was that I wouldn’t dream of slapping his friend for two reasons: 1) because I don’t believe in hitting people at all; and 2) because there was no doubt in my mind that if I had done so it would have started a chain reaction that – no matter how jokingly it had all begun – would have resulted in John and his mate getting physical with each other.

So, what has all of this got to do with fitness and detox, you may ask. Well, for me it has everything to do with what I am trying to achieve here. The moment in the garden taught me that the most important person in my life is Me! What I want and what I don’t want. What I can and what I can’t. What I will and what I won’t. John is the most important person in my life when I want him to be. When it suits my purposes and when it doesn’t clash with who I am. I guess you could say that it is my ultimate gift to him that I will make him my first priority. As long as he doesn’t abuse the power that gives him. Although he was just having a laugh, he did abuse that power when he asked me to slap his mate. And for the first time ever I said no. The most important person in my life is Me. I don’t want to slap people. I don’t want my love to beat up his mates over me. And I don’t want to be told to do stupid things just to prove that I’d do anything for love.

What I want is peace of mind. I want a mens sana in corpore sano (a healthy mind in a healty body in case you don’t do Latin ). I want to give my body the same attention to detail as I give my mind. I want to feed myself with the same care as we feed the kids, pets, cars and vans in this house. I don’t let the kittens get through a whole day without food, but very often I come home from work having had nothing but 8 cups of tea and as many fags in a day. I only buy dead expensive, super nutritional kitty food for them little blighters (cheap cat food can apparently give them kidney problems as it contains too much salt), but I don’t think twice about stuffing a quick sandwich or burger (that most likely will give me more than just a kidney problem) down my own throat when I’m feeling faint and need to chuck some fuel onto my fire to keep me going. We buy some super mega turbo whatsisname type of oil for the cars because the cheap stuff is no good. Yet when I want a drink, I very often pick the cheap stuff “because it’s ok”. Which, of course, it’s not.

The reason I said “I” in all of the previous paragraph is because there’s no “we” here.  See, John would never do any of those things. He wouldn’t feed his body nothing but tea and fags. No matter how much work he has to do (and he’s always got loads!) he’ll take the time to sit down and have a proper meal. He’d never buy a cheap sandwich or burger to stuff himself with. He wouldn’t have to, because he wouldn’t be in that “need food this minute or will faint” situation to begin with.  And he most certainly would never be caught dead with a bottle of plonk or cheap whisky. If he can’t afford to buy the best stuff he’d rather go without.

Operation Detox began yesterday. I need to clean my body, my mind, my soul and my finances. My body should, reasonably, be the easiest bit to take control over and that’s where I’ll start. It needs proper TLC both on the outside and on the inside, but first things first. I’m gonna do this from the inside and out. Yesterday, I had nothing but fruit and water all day and then three small slices of chicken breast in the evening for protein. I didn’t get enough water in (only 4 cups) so am trying to do better in that respect today. I haven’t decided what to have for protein today, but I’m thinking of eggs. We’ll see. Another thing I haven’t decided is for how long this fasting stage is going to continue. Or, actually I have. I have decided to let my body decide. I’m sure if I listen to it, for a change, it will tell me what it wants.

Today, it’s time to get serious about the exercising again. Last year John was making me get up and work my body into a healthy sweat each morning before going to work. Some days I hated him for it, but I did it. And it made me feel on top of of the world once I’d done it and had my shower after. But then as things got tough (which I have blogged about before) I couldn’t seem to keep it up. Sure, I still got up and did some exercise, but it was healf-hearted and nowhere near as intense as before. I blamed it on being too tired and on an aching body. With rheumatism, the body always aches so that’s a pretty lame excuse. And my tiredness, n0 doubt, stemmed from the fact that I was pushing athlete style performances out of a body that was fed nothing but bread and water. Figuratively speaking.

It’s only midday, and right now I could kill for a fag. I’d love to make myself a ginormous latte, grab a book and some B&Hs and park my backside in the sunshine for the rest of the afternoon. But I won’t. Because that’s not what my body needs. Instead I’m going to refill my water bottle, take my supplements, move one of the exercise bikes into the garden and work my backside into a good sweat in the sunshine. Because that’s exactly what my body needs whether I like it or not.

Lighter than last year…

Having fallen off the band wagon ever so slightly, I decided that the summer should be a good time to climb back up it again. The New Fitness Regime I started last year brought about some changes that I’m very proud of. I have bought my first pair of non elasticated trousers in over 20 years. I have made better food and drink choices. And I have exercised more. But this year I have also worked harder, been more stressed and taken refuge in fags every so often. And I have not had a good night’s sleep in ages. It’s time to take a firm hold of the reins again!

One thought has occupied my mind lately: Why is it that some of us spend so much time looking after our brain and/or our soul while completely forgetting to look after our bodies? I have spent uncountable hours and more money than I want to think of developing my mental capacity over the past 19 years. I have gone to uni, studied whatever extra courses I felt would be beneficial for me and strategically tried to advance my career in line with my aspirations. During this time, my body has been in a pretty poor shape and there has been times when I’ve needed help to get out of bed in the morning. Still, physical fitness never quite made it on to my list of priorities.

When I met John, he challenged the way I think about most things. One of them was fitness. He taught me to see the body as a temple. Something to be proud of and look after. And I realised that the only time I’ve been proud of my body was when it was carrying, and giving birth to, my children. Apart from that I can’t remember ever having felt a very close relationship with my body. But now the thinking cap is on…

Bearing in mind that I’ve spent the past 20 years investing time and money in my brain; it doesn’t make sense to have a top head on a third rate body now does it? After all, it would be pretty pointless to hone my mental capacities if my body won’t be able to hang in there for much longer. And there’s my new reason to look after myself. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am today to want to risk cutting my life anyshorter than it has to be. I want to hang in here as long as I can and while I’m here I want to be able to do whatever I feel like doing without having to worry about whether my body will cope. Like our planned bicycle trip to Paris in 2012 (that John doesn’t believe I’ll be up for…). And, of course, I want to feel good in my body as well. So here we go again.

Today, I logged my measures on fitday.com again. My non elasticated trousers are now so big I can pull them up and down without unbuttoning them first, and I have to pull them up all the time when I’m walking. In that light, I shouldn’t have been too nervous about checking the measures, but of course I was. Worrying is my thing and my perception of my own body has been distorted since way before my first year in school, so there you go. Turned out, my worries were silly though.

My vital statistics today (on top) and a year ago (bottom).

My thighs are 10cm smaller (or less fat), my hips have lost 16cm and my waist 14cm. This is, of course, not quite as good as it would have been had I stuck to my plan, but to have kept losing inches whilst not strictly sticking with the regime is pretty darn good in my books. And my books are the only books that matter now.

Today it’s been a week since I started outlining my new programme, and today it’s also been a week since I started counting my food again. This past week I have just done it for reference, to see what I’d get on a typical week.

My calorie intake over week 1

An average of just over 1500 kcal is a little too little for me, and looking back at what I’ve eaten it hasn’t exactly been the most nutritious food. I’m always tired, but I haven’t slept well since John’s problems began. I think what I need to do first of all is to boost up my energy levels with a proper detox. Flush the system out and get some vitamins in. That normally lifts my spirits and reinvigorates my energy levels.

Today I’ve been on a fruit and water fast all day and then a little bit of chicken for protein in te evening. I’ve had one cup of coffee but no fags. Tomorrow I will try to stick to the fruit and water fast with just a little bit of protein in the evening. Monday, on the other hand, I’m gonna want more food as I’m going to work so maybe I’ll make a salad or something. We’ll see.

For today, I’m just happy to report that I’m back on track, that my measurements have gone down although I haven’t been all that strict and that I’m nowhere near as excited as I was last year when John kicked my arse into gear. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing remains to be seen.

Heartbreak is a blessing!

So, the the new year didn’t arrive with its usual feeling of hope and excitement. Instead, I woke up to each new day with a sense of dread and despair. I had lost my man and in my head I was going through every single day we had spent together to find the moment where things went wrong. To figure out what I had done. It took me quite some time to come to the conclusion that this might not be about me after all. Maybe it was her. Maybe he had fallen in love with her. It would not be completely out of place, would it, for someone whose family values are so strong (and who deep down believes that a child should grow up with a mum and a dad who love each other dearly, thereby setting good examples for the child to mould their future relationships around) to want to have a proper relationship with the mother of his baby?

But the weeks went by and nothing changed. His daddy duty trips did not increase in frequency and by the looks of things she was not moving any closer. The answer to what really was wrong should have come as a relief, but it didn’t. It just brought on another wave of guilt and despair. How could I not have known. Why hadn’t I noticed. My love was suffering but I was too wrapped up in myself, in my grief, to see what was happening. I was convinced he’d dumped me. He said, au contraire, he still had a 25-year lease on my soul that he had no intention of giving up. Yet very little changed. It was still mainly work and solitude.

Knowing that there was a real problem helped. I hadn’t just dreamed all those enchanted days where I was the happiest woman on earth and he was the perfect man. The question that kept playing on my mind, however, was: Was this the real John? I had been prepared to love him for better for worse, but was this John for worse? Or was this his normal self and the ‘perfect man’ John for better? If so – what was he like for worse? I remembered Oprah Winfrey once said the reason she’d never married Stedman was because she could never get her head around exactly how bad for worse could be. Now I knew exactly what she meant!

What do you do when the love of your life no longer gives you what he used to give you? When he’s no longer providing you with the support that you’ve come to rely on? When, quite frankly, the buttons he’s pushing are not the ones you want to have pushed? Do you cut and run, knowing that you’ll be forever asking yourself if there was nothing more you could have done? Or do you stay and hope for the best, knowing that you’ll never forgive yourself if you’d left the best thing that ever happened to you the minute the going got tough? I chose the latter.

When two adults with more than just a little bit of baggage are trying to build a future together, you have to expect some crashes, collisions and compromises. John and I are polar opposites in some repects and ridicolously alike in others. He’s romantic whereas I’m pragmatic. He’s a dreamer whereas I’m a doer. He’s a fixer whereas I’m a breaker. He’s prone to inductive reasoning whereas I’m prone to deductive reasoning. We’re both moody and stubborn. We’re easily hurt. We have an often foolish sense of pride. And we have a tendency to discard people who have hurt or insulted us. Sometimes something, or someone, has got to give. This time, I thought, that someone had better be me or we’ll both end up storming off feeling sorry for ourselves

So I gave until it hurt and I waited. For a sign. Or a miracle. Or something. Flying on wings on love one day – drowning in a sea of sorrows the next. But, amazingly, I realised that each week was slightly better than the last one. It was baby steps, but we were definitely moving forward.  And then one day I was shell shocked. One of his mates told me I was wasting my time. He said I ought to get my arse online and start looking for better options. He said he wanted to be my friend. He even said he was dreaming of finding himself a woman like me. But I should let go and move on and find my real place in life. I told him to sod off! I said that I was perfectly happy to let things be where they were and allow my man the time and space he needed to heal. And that’s when the bomb hit me. His mate looked dumbstruck and was wondering what the hell I was talking about. Leave John?!? Why the hell would he want me to leave John? Did I think he’d like to hurt his best friend? No, he was talking about one of my jobs!

See, the shell shocking effect here was that the minute he took my hand, said he wanted to be my friend and told me I was wasting my time I immediately assumed he was talking about John. Why is that? What does that say about me? For what reason did it seem perfectly natural to me that his best mate would tell me to go bark up another tree if I wanted to get somewhere with my love life? I relayed (parts of) this conversation to John (I am sworn to secrecy by his mate where the finer details are concerned) and he just gave me one of his black looks and asked why I wanted concern myself with a converation like that to begin with. He even went as far as to suggest  there was a level of madness in the whole thing. For me, it was the moment my heartbreak turned into a blessing.

You can be selfish in many different ways. Some people are so eager not to draw attention to themselves that they end up doing just that. They are selfish in some back hand kind of way. Some people are so neurotic in certain areas of their lives that they get completely selfish, thinking it’s all about them one way or the other. Some people are so wrapped up in selfrighteousness that they forget about the people around them. I guess I have been guilty of all of these in my relationship over the last year. And that’s an absolutely horrific realisation!

I was so wrapped up in my own grief and pain that I failed to see when it hit the one I love. And when he was as grief-stricken as I was, and when the physical pain left him battling for air, all I could think of was why he was so cold. So distant. Was he leaving me? I guess I’m going to have to spend quite some time trying to figure that one out. But until I do, I have already learned something very important.

Not all heartbreak is bad for you! I, for one, definitely needed to stay put through a relationship crisis and learn how to move on. How to get through. And how to trust that the love is strong enough to withstand some thunder storms. And I needed to learn that the main motivation behind any kind of major shift in your life cannot be dependent on someone else. Or, as John says, you got to do what you got to do. If fitness is what you want, you need to work fitness into your daily routine. For you. Not because someone else wants you to. Not because someone else might find you more attractive if you do. Not to get something in the end. You’ve got to do it for you.

I wouldn’t say the crisis is over – far from it – but I will say this. Danko Jones had a point when he sang that heartbreak is a blessing! For me, it has taught me to be more selfish in a new way and less selfish in another. I want to get back 0n track with my fitness regime, but this time I want to do it for me. Not because John wants me to. I have finally figured out that my body belongs to me and that it needs just as much nourishment as my brain does. And that the only one who has a vested interest in providing that nourishment is me. I have also figured out that not everything that John says or does is related to something that I have said or done. It is quite possible for him to be a grumpy old fucker just because he really is a grumpy old fucker. (Don’t tell him I said that!! lol) It doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s thinking of leaving me. And it doesn’t mean that I should start packing my bags so that I can get one over on him. It took me 42 years to learn that lesson…