WOW… what a day. where to start? well, I woke up at 4am for the third day in a row, but this time, couldn’t get back to sleep. So, I did what any good non-shopping, procrastinating semi-bah-humbug girl would do; I started working on my Christmas craft gifts! After a cup of coffee, a cup of tea, and two finished craft projects (with 22 left to go), I had had enough. It was now almost half past 5a, and I was ready to either go back to bed, or get my cardio over with. Finally made it to a crap Fitness First down the way, but only after getting lost somehow. The street I was supposed to turn on, was literally the first street off the block… so how I ended up going an extra 15 minutes out of my way, I’ll never know. As I write this, I can now see how this was setting myself up for having one of those shit, snowballs days of badness. I planned on going to the Fitness First close by, because it’s one of the only ones (there are like 100 in the city region… which most of unfortunately blow) that has a stair mill! In fact it has two!! I HATE doing cardio, so finding something that doesn’t bore me to death, and gives me a good workout, can be a daunting task at times. After dicking around, trying to find a place to park for what seemed like an hour (probably only took an extra two minutes), wouldn’t cha know, BOTH stair mills were being occupied once I walked in the gym. Not left with many options, I decided to do some sprints. Of course, only after having a pep-talk with myself in the bathroom stall beforehand.
After doing 4 or 5 sprints, I had a semi-decent bicep workout (which I haven’t done in a while…. since I started training with Coach Bassa, I’ve been reluctant to do any isolated exercises. more on that later). I actually rocked-up to the gym with curlers in my hair. Forgot about that. LOL! I had enough time (seems to work out that way when ya’ get up at 4 FISTING A.M.!!!!) to blow dry my hair, and put on some makeup. The last time I was in that gym (two days ago, monday), I was NOT feeling good about myself. My new super-lesbian haircut, and no makeup, AND feeling massively out of shape, I was not excited about being there. Today a felt a bit better. Then, after getting back home, I ate, and decided to finish styling my hair (which happens maybe once a month). Then, it was time to find something to wear. I had told myself the night before, that I WAS NOT going to spend the day, trolling around town with my dirty gym clothes on. It seems like I spend 90% of my life in gym clothes. So, after trying on a skirt, and feeling like a heathen, I went for my ‘fat girl pants’, which happen to be a pair of stretchy-like jeans that have a bunch of rips through the legs. They have NEVER been TOO small on me before. Sure there have been a few times when I wasn’t feeling AS konfident as usual, however, today my legs were literally pouring out the holes of the rips in the front.
After catching a glimpse in the mirror, I did what any over-tired, PMSing 5 year old would do…. I started crying and waddled my fat ass down the hall with my jeans dragging around my ankles, and into my bedroom. I flapped on the bed, and blurted out in-between sobs, “I’m… I’m not going A N Y W H E R E”…….
I stopped for a second, and laughed at myself for being so ridiculous, even though deep down I was still disappointed. I went straight for the stretch pants drawer, and slid on some brazilian pants and tank top. I then went by one of Coach Bassa’s daughters house to drop off some DVD’s for him to watch. The netball team (yeah! for all the Americans, ‘netball’ is basketball, but with no backboard. crazy huh!) he’s been coaching for several years, was throwing him a party of some sort today. It would have been pretty selfish of me to have stayed home in bed and pouted, and missed an opportunity to say hi to Coach Bassa. He’s not in the best of health at the moment, and I sure have missed seeing him twice a week to train. So that’s when I started cheering up I reckon. Then, from there I went and met my good friend Sharon at Costco, to help her shop for a Christmas party she’s throwing on Friday. Costco always cheers me up, as well as being around another strong, understanding, loving woman
Then, after that, I went to Apollo gym to do some heavy lifting. Sitting around feeling sorry for myself, was not going to make me feel like I was back in tip top shape. After smashing out some heavy bench press, front squats, coupled with pull-ups and back extensions, I headed over to Fusion to meet Con. Con had left me a voice mail while I was in Costco, saying that he would come in and train me so I could stop feeling like a hairy vagina (I don’t think he used those words, but something to the tune of that). Con, my martial arts instructor, has an Olympic background in Tai Kwondo. So when it comes to kicking drills, this dude knows his shit! We sat and chatted for a few minutes once meeting up at the dojo. He once again reminded me, that in order for me to gain something, I’ve had to give something up. In other words, in order for me to gain strength, I would have to gain size, therefor compromising my “ripped” physique I usually have year round. We also talked about body building, and how negative it can be on the mind. I’ve done so little to focus on the inside of my body over the past few years, and have really just been whole-heartedly focused on the outside. I need the two in balance.
So on we went with this kicking drill routine, that he had me do back in April before my body building show, earlier this year. I was VERY pleased to see that I could jump much higher, and my stamina had shot through the roof. I attribute it all to Coach Bassa. The Olympic lifting and power lifting has made such an over-all improvement in my conditioning and athleticism, it’s just amazing. After sweating my ass off for 40 minutes with Con, I headed home briefly to eat, then it was off to
THE BEST MASSAGE I’VE EVER HAD IN MY LIFE!!!! O M F G! This wasn’t just your normal massage people. This was “passive release” from a myotherapist. Out here in Oz, myotherapy is a combined practice of different release techniques, combined with massage, cupping, dry needle, and whole lot of other studies. To become a certified myotherapist, it takes 4 years I believe. Anyway, it was AMAZING! Basically, the therapist pushes on certain trigger points, then moves/manipulates your body part/muscle for you. Different from massage, as no oil is used, and clothes don’t come off. By this point, I was feeling heaps better. THEN, by time I got home, my mate had been watching a bunch of videos on youtube! Not sure how long you’ve been reading my blog, but a couple months ago, I started watching too many videos on ‘conspiracy theories’ and the illuminati on youtube. I let all the information suck me down a dark hole. At one point, I came across a guy by the name of ‘David Icke’. I apparently was pronouncing the last name wrong, because I had told my mate about this guy last month, and he responded as if he had no clue who I was referring to, despite the fact this David fella was from the same country as him.
When the mate hoped on youtube while I was away at my massage, he managed to find his way onto David Icke’s channel, simply by youtube suggesting it due to ‘previously watched videos’. Come to find out, this David Icke fella, was a professional soccer player, who retired into commentating (“presenter” I think is what the English call it) on the sport, on the BBC. In fact, David Icke was a goal keeper just like my mate was, and my mate, almost played for the same team David used to play for! (the mate played goalie for a pro soccer team in England, for a short period of time) So NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW the mate was all interested in what the hell David Icke had to say. The mate told me, he distinctively remembered the day, David Icke just kinda “disappeared”, and had “gone mad”. He remembered him wearing a purple suit, and “claiming he was the son of God”, or something like that……………….
Well, he showed me this clip:
Now, all the sudden, I was interested in what this guy had/has to say, but this time around, it didn’t scare me. The concepts and ideas David Icke, and all the other “conspiracy theorists” say, don’t strike fear into my heart. But rather, just make me smile. Long story……
All in all, I can sum this up by saying I’m glad I’m not a sheep. I’m also glad I allowed my day to start getting better. Lastly, I’m sure G L A D you stopped by and took the time to read this, cuz it took me FOREVER to write! : )
I just shit myself when I read articles like this………
this is why I vent, and can tell the world I cried like a little bitch today. if you can’t laugh at yourself, and be real with yourself, let alone those around you (who hopefully 1 or 2 of those people truly care about you), then this could end up being your story. a tragedy so easily saved?
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