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 :)

A Plan of Action

I wanted to write a 'Warring with my Waistline Part 3', but alas I couldn't. For one, the battle of the bulge still continues, my thighs are still trying to take over the world, and I can't seem to keep my sticky fingers off chocolate. However, there has been some developments.

I got my ass into the gym!
Yes, I bit the bullet after watching my twin brothers chowing down on boiled chicken and broccoli, throwing in some weights and squats, and returning home from the gym looking extremely buff and a darn sight happier, despite the fact that they are now so built their arms don't touch their sides. But you know what? I wanted a piece of that action (minus boiled chicken and Arnie arms). So I took my husband and father - moral support, and made them sign up with me.
Now I thought I was getting pretty fit. I run for half an hour every day on the treadmill, whip out the sporadic lunge, and always try to watch what I eat even when I see a titanic sized piece of cake heading for my gob. I thought I could handle a personal training session basically aimed at smashing me to pieces until I'm reassembled about fifteen kilos lighter (I want to wear a sequinned bikini and see the bottom half unobstructed as I look down). I thought I could do about a gazillion squats while froggy jumping across the room, fist pump four kilogram hand weights into the air like I had a point to prove, and walk down a set of stairs afterwards without face-planting other patrons or equipment.
You know what? I damn well did it.
Yes, I may have been crying on the inside. I may have split my pants just a little bit. I may have had to grip the handrail on the staircase on descent, and I may have had to swallow back a few mouthfuls of bile, but by God I bloody did it. The crazy thing is I'm going back for more.
However, this state of 'more' may have to wait a few days since I'm practically a cripple right now, but I will go back and I will conquer. I will post a 'Warring with my Waistline Part 3' and there will be photos that don't make you want to gag.
Hell yes I'm doing this.
I may just have to buy new pants first ... and a walking stick.

Kristy :)