Everyone falls off the wagon at some point, and yes, I mean everyone, even me. So I have a blow out every blue moon (sue me)Let me tell you what to do if you find yourself in that situation, I will also explain what not to do. Once upon a time I fell off the wagon with a vengeance. I was actually that bad I woke up to answer the door in the morning to the UPS guy.(delivering health supplements ha ha ha)"Little Miss Fitness?", I force out a grunt and as I stand there I notice my pyjamas back to front. It also occurred to me that I had in fact kept up to date with my food diary by scribbling in a 3yr olds handwriting "Vodka x3, Tia Maria x3, Baileys x3, Wine, Champagne" on the drinks, dinner and snacks columns. There was also some illegible print which I later translated to Chicken, Melon and Cheesecake. So Ladies and Gentlemen, I will give you all this one bit of advice, even though you get in at 5am, totally and utterly trollied, you should still take the time to write in your food diary so you can reflect on your intake over a week. It really does help with the guilt and the shamefulness when you look at that writing and think, those words we have all said to ourselves a thousand times "I am never drinking again". I mean what will my clients think? . . . . . . Especially when I don't even like Tia Maria, Baileys or Melon. But hey! We learn something new every day. The biggest mistake though is when you book a Personal Training client for 8am at Strathclyde park, realising there is not a hope in hell you can drive there, so you run, and when you arrive (if you ever do) the alcohol in your blood stream has heated up to 37 degrees and soaked through your clothes, so now you smell distinctly of a brewery as you saunter green faced up to your client that you have told off a hundred times about the effects of binge drinking on the liver.......Good example Nats, Well done.
Showing posts with label magda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label magda. Show all posts
Friday, 7 May 2010
Off the wagon
Everyone falls off the wagon at some point, and yes, I mean everyone, even me. So I have a blow out every blue moon (sue me)Let me tell you what to do if you find yourself in that situation, I will also explain what not to do. Once upon a time I fell off the wagon with a vengeance. I was actually that bad I woke up to answer the door in the morning to the UPS guy.(delivering health supplements ha ha ha)"Little Miss Fitness?", I force out a grunt and as I stand there I notice my pyjamas back to front. It also occurred to me that I had in fact kept up to date with my food diary by scribbling in a 3yr olds handwriting "Vodka x3, Tia Maria x3, Baileys x3, Wine, Champagne" on the drinks, dinner and snacks columns. There was also some illegible print which I later translated to Chicken, Melon and Cheesecake. So Ladies and Gentlemen, I will give you all this one bit of advice, even though you get in at 5am, totally and utterly trollied, you should still take the time to write in your food diary so you can reflect on your intake over a week. It really does help with the guilt and the shamefulness when you look at that writing and think, those words we have all said to ourselves a thousand times "I am never drinking again". I mean what will my clients think? . . . . . . Especially when I don't even like Tia Maria, Baileys or Melon. But hey! We learn something new every day. The biggest mistake though is when you book a Personal Training client for 8am at Strathclyde park, realising there is not a hope in hell you can drive there, so you run, and when you arrive (if you ever do) the alcohol in your blood stream has heated up to 37 degrees and soaked through your clothes, so now you smell distinctly of a brewery as you saunter green faced up to your client that you have told off a hundred times about the effects of binge drinking on the liver.......Good example Nats, Well done.
Saturday, 24 April 2010
Magda Infliction
I couldn't believe my eyes at the gym yesterday. Well I would have if they hadn't been nearly taken out by the braless bazookas bouncing buoyantly on the treadmill. This voluptuous beauty was oblivious to the spectacle she was making of herself, but I can assure you, most of the male populace of the gym was certainly aware, including myself (for research purposes only). This is one of my pet hates (yes I have a few) when it comes to the female of the species in the gym. Please please pretty please wear a bra, do I have to spell it out to you? W.E.A.R. A. B.R.A! Please. Please for the sake of mankind and your breasts two years down the line. I mean it when I say down, in the literal sense. The only thing that's getting a workout on this lady is her coopers tendon, the anti-sag tendon or coopers drooper as I like to call it. There is no repairing this tendon, no "I must, I must improve my bust". It can only ever be tightened with surgery, so unless you want a "Magda infliction" (see. There's something about Mary) just wear a blooming sports bra. Boys tell your other halves because I'm pretty certain you didn't watch something about Mary and scream "Look at those puppies" when Magda got her baps out. And they most definitley did not say "Iwish I had boobs like her".
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