15 May 2009


The last post was making me feel very pissy, it's what I wanted to write about (well, what I wanted to write about after I decided I couldn't be bothered to write about porn after all) but the way it was written was making my eye twitch. All right, it was making my eye twitch even more. Censorship is underrated, I feel positively moustached now. Sty is finally receding and I no longer unwittingly flirt with everyone in my line of vision.

Yesterday I started Jillian Mitchell's '30-day shred'. After seven minutes (Seven. I checked) I wanted to die and my only consolation was, I knew I would, soon. Every time I considered saying 'Sod it, who needs triceps anyway', and funny how severe pain enhances repetitive thinking, Jill, whom I'm not so fond of because she can bit of a competitive cow, would aggravate me further by chiming in with things like 'I know it's hard but don't quit now, you won't believe the difference in a few sessions'. I persevered, thoughts of yanking her by the air and dragging her along a gravel road fueling me on (road rage!) - she'd be proud though, I reckon that would require me to use all the major arm muscles, including the rotator cuff ones.

What hurt the most were the movements requiring knee bending. I was very careful - or as careful as someone who's shaking can be - but it still left my historically histrionic right knee feeling very sore. In fact, the end of it saw me limping to the bathroom (thoughts of gravel roads, etc.) for a shower and anti-inflammatory salve. My knees creaked a lot. It was very disquieting but I watch The Biggest Loser, I am 1.73 and weigh as much as those contestants regularly lose as a whole, what bloody excuse could I possibly come up with not to do it? I imagine the only thing that will make my knees ever feel better is to be toned and fitter and I do want to get there, even if I'll sound like an old haunted staircase along the way. I'm tired of hearing myself whine abt my arse or peasant calves (I want daintily muscled ones, not these cannibal TV-dinners I lug around) and there's often a little voice inside my head screaming 'If you're so tired of it get off said bloody arse and do something abt it!', but it can usually be droned out by another episode of The Real Housewives of *Whatever city, they're all mesmerising*.

Today my neck is sore, and I have a weird internal pain from above my right buttock to about the middle of it. Actually, my body is generally sore but these particular pains come from bad positioning, I could feel it during the ab crunches, I'll have to get them right today. Despite my good intentions and mouth-watering visions of subtly rippling muscles as far as the eye can see, the fact that I just typed 'ab crunches' and 'today' makes me want to weep. [Haven't the Jewish people suffered enough?] I will also have to lock the pets in my bedroom. JIP had an anxiety attack over my floor exertions and kept alternately trying to rub her face against mine and lick my eyelids, and biting my fingers in nervous protest. I cannot fathom why. Cats, the lost heirs of Atlantis? Papoila was just happy I'd decided to play with her in such a novel manner and kept trying to engage my attention all throughout the workout. At the end, while I was doing my lying stretches, I opened my eyes to find her face looming a few centimetres from mine. She was so happy her whole body was wagging. She looked absolutely hysterical from that angle and I hope laughter counts as a muscle stretcher because it all ended very abruptly when I lost it.

Now I shall go have my pectoralis major muscles and their overlaying boobs squashed, irradiated and ultrasonographied. My boobs are the one thing that doesn't hurt today since you can't really exercise boobs - even the rather... long pair I once saw being juggled about the owner's face are no more than an arm workout, really [Also, why? How could anyone possibly be turned on by whirling boobs?] but I expect that will change very soon. Shabbat shalom, my lovelies.

6 furballs:

Kristin said...

I have heard wonderful things about the Shred but it gives me the willies to even think about it. I have a seriously screwed up knee already.

JoeinVegas said...

That sounds worse than a porn post. But I'm sure you will look even more marvelous when 30 days have gone by. (even if you can't twirl your boobs)

Anonymous said...

People live the life they choose, don't they.

Shoe said...

I'm still curious what it was you were going to say about porn. Also LOVE the image of Papoila. Can picture her precisely.

Diana said...

Molly-dog hangs by the treadmill when I go down to sweat. She always looks so terribly, well, sorrowful, as though she wonders what the hell I did to deserve such a fate.

I mean, really. One couldn't really CHOOOSE this over romping outside with the frisbee, could one? The days when I attempt the push-ups and crunches cause such concern that she must come and shove her long nose in my business, just to make sure I'm not in my final death seizure.

We are incomprehensible creatures, aren't we? Keep up the good work. I'm sure it's all worth it, or so I keep telling myself (and the dog).

(I'm not yet back, but felt the need to wave.)

David said...

Ok, ok e quando e que vamos para tua casa?