Monday, May 10, 2010

Skinny Love

I am an odd girl. I say this not because I think it makes me sound cool and -interesting, but because of one phenomenon. You know when girls are sad [because of boys], they just sit in front of the telly [or in bed] and eat ice cream straight from the tub [after tub after tub] with a spoon whilst throwing bits of bread and other dry, carb-loaded food at whatever sop is on screen? Well, I do not. Firstly, I only like the Woolies Madagascan Vanilla Bean ice cream, and Haagen Dasz. And secondly, I do the opposite. When I am sad, I do not eat. Well, hardly. Talking to a friend about my recent heartbreak-causing event a few days ago:
Me: My appetite is mucho absento at the moment. I don't know where it's gone, but I think it should stay there.
X [he's not my ex, his name starts with X]: I lost 8kgs in 2 weeks with my last break-up.
Me: What?! Yes! I'm excited now!
So, my heart sucks but soon, hopefully, my body will not and I will be wholly love-handle free. See, I am fairly thin and all that, but my love handles irk me. They are bigger than my boobs. This is NOT right.
Anyway, tomorrow I make my gym debut. I went to a gym once to sauna, and another time to join. But I have never really utilised the gym for its exercising purposes. I have an invite to Virgin Active and tomorrow morning I am taking a dance class. This is way overdue. I used to do horseriding [which is obviously not oodles of fat-burning, muscle-toning exercise judging by some of the whales who submit their poor horses to carrying them, but it is more than most people think], and that was enough for me. But these days, shopping is my cardio. Yesterday, shopping for Mum's Mother's Day present, I go looking for this pashmina I have been eyeing out for weeks now. It is not there. So, in a frenzy of desperation and self-loathing for leaving it so late, I whirlwind into every other store until I find something similar. On the way I buy stuff for myself too, obviously [I am starting to realise that I have one times gross spending problem.] So, finally, I rush back t my car and start wrapping it hastily [as am now quite late for lunch] only to discover it has a hole in it. Run all the way back to store.
Me: Sorry, this pashmina I just bought has a hole in it.
Assistant: Really?
[pause]
Me: No, I just felt like running all the way back here because, as you can see, I need the exercise.
I don't why people think I am joking about such serious things! Like when I expressed my shock last year on Twitter when a Stellenbosch student died of swine flu, and some chick replies with 'Really?!' No, I just like to joke about death and such. I phoned his parents too, to see what they would say. Daft cow.
But I digress...
So, maybe it is time I find another kind of exercise. Em has told me more than once that I WILL be fat someday when I'm older, so maybe I should shock my body with exercise now, before it's old and dies of heart failure at the sight of a dumbell [or whatever those are called]. I agree with Kate: Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. I like skinny, and I am never going to have big boobs [seeing as all my weight just sinks down to my love handles], so I may as well by boobless with killer legs, rather than boobless and kinda squishy. Ick.
So, stay tuned. I have a funny feeling that I will be in much pain on Wednesday, and you will hear about it. For now, I'm off to go buy gym clothes. Now that DOES excite me...

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