What Follow Friday #2

Okay, I'm starting to suck at following through.
About two weeks ago I blitzed the ever popular meme "Follow Friday" through Parajunkee and Alison Can read's blog sites. Then, it was due to a girls night out where we sung badly, I watched other people get smashed, and then I snuck off home to bed before the clock struck twelve.
This week it was in celebration of my dad's birthday. While you were all undoubtedly discussing your favourite books (The Hunted Series), or raining praise upon the most influential author of our time (Kristy Berridge, aka: me), I was out eating.
Yes, please ignore my latest post Warring with my waistline Part 3. Although I am deeply committed to maintaining my gym membership and exploring healthy food options in the quest to assassinate my thighs, I was in fact eating myself into a food coma.
Pan seared Barramundi fillet, Jasmine rice, succulent greens, and hollandaise sauce. Yes, I spread them all over my lips, chewed vigorously and swallowed like I was doing Gandhi a favour.
Did I mention the sticky date pudding with butterscotch sauce and ice cream? No? Probably best that I don't. As it is, I set myself back a full day at the gym and my husband has had to put a forklift on standby in case I can't roll myself to work on Monday.
Wait *looks up timidly* do you guys hear that?
It's an air raid siren. It seems that my thighs have already launched a counter attack. I apologise. I must run - literally.
Happy Birthday dad, you are the greatest.

Kristy :)

Warring with my Waistline Take 3

I think that perhaps I should change the name of this post. After all, the Nazi's aren't invading my belly button. I may be warring with myself but my waistline is still hiding behind the enemy lines of my waistband.
Alas, I come bearing good news today. I have holstered my weapons of MASS destruction (you liked that pun, didn't you?) and formed an ally with my ass. I officially believe in the fitness mission and the benefits of counting calories.
Yes, you heard me. The Twinkies are locked away for good and spandex is the new Chanel.
So why am I so super psyched about exercise now?
My latest results!
I joined a gym about six weeks ago and scored myself an awesome trainer - Ollie. He set me up with a program that made my knees wave a white flag of surrender and the flappy fat on the back of my arms slap me in the face every time I raised a dumbbell above my head. But, it's all been worth it because apart from losing three kilograms, I also lost nineteen and a half centimeters on each thigh. Yes! Each thigh!
I always told you guys that my thighs were planning on taking over the world and clearly I have tempered that plan but trimming off the excess fat. Yes, Europe, you can thank me for that later.
Anyway, I won't linger. I have books to write and a mirror to stare at. So, catch you on the next weigh in and measure six weeks from now.

Kristy :)

Alien in my Belly

So as you already know, I'm on a massive fitness kick at the moment and I've managed to rope in buddies to keep the process fun and promote success. One of those buddies is my dad, his enthusiasm for weight loss and body toning only equal to that of my own. We've been training four days a week, calorie counting, and pushing each other to achieve.

Anyway, last night we were fitting in some last chance training due to dad's weigh-in and measurement day today (success all round by the way). We were working through an abdominal session and that's when we noticed the alien. 

We had a moment, thought about calling in Sigourney Weaver to bust a cap in its ass but how can you kill it if it hasn't reared it's ugly head yet?

Confused?

During a roll up crunch pushing a pretty impressive weight of 45kg's, I noticed my dad's stomach had a spine. When I pointed this out to him, he casually informed me that he had an alien in his belly. So, whether it turns out to be fact, fiction, medical condition, or some weird-ass muscle, we all have something weird and unexplained. 

For one, when I finish my workout and take my shoes off, veins practically explode from the top of feet like bloody octopus tentacles. I often look at them and wonder if I could launch off the end of a jetty and start an undersea adventure - my own inbuilt pulsing flippers. My fingers also bend like bananas, my belly button frowns at me, and I sweat mostly from my kneecaps. Yes, I actually have to wipe those bad boys down with a towel so my socks don't get wet. It's insane.

So alas we all have alien's inside of us, and if not, please don't tell me that you're perfect because I don't want to know that my family are the only bearers of the freak flag. But, if you have ears like an elf, a nose like Pinocchio, or an ass like J-Lo, let me know. I can't be the only one out there with octopus feet.

Kristy :)