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 :)

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 :)