The mother cupping cupcake

1 Jun

So, post confessional rants are usually to say thank you for the absolute raping I received for my previous post – okay – thank you, no really, thank you. Moving on. This past Monday I happen to be given a cupcake by my HOD (Head of Department for all you non-coolness-speaking-peeps). The cupcake, brown in colour, resembled something out of a catalog…I mean, the delicious little thing didn’t even look real to me! It looked, well, too good to be true!

It didn’t stand a chance.

Seriously…the tiny little bastard didn’t even put up a fight.

I mean, it was literally begging me to devour it!

I took a bite…

About 0.45secs later I tweeted at the Cupcake Lady (the mastermind behind the taste-bud orgasm inducing morsel) and this is what my tweet looked like:

> That's right Ms.Biel...I will f-ing eat you.<

This all ties up to my last post on confessions and I’m actually proud to confess that I know the “Cupcake Lady” herself. This amazingly talented women goes by the name of, Angel Conradie and her cupcakes are exactly that…”baked by an Angel”! I know, right? I should totally charge for sexual favours right now! Anyway, here’s a little exert from her website:

I am The Cupcake Lady, and I am the undisputed Queen of Confectionary.

I simply adore cupcakes. So much so that I even have one tattooed on my right calf!

When you eat one of my cupcake creations, you will be able to taste how much I love making them, and you will want another one! They are baked fresh with the only the best ingredients, and I am constantly experimenting with new flavours, colours and icing techniques. Chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, crème brulee… whatever your taste may be, I have a cupcake to match it! They are decorated in an endless variety of beautiful designs to suit any occasion, be it a wedding or a whim, and now you can even have your cupcake in a jar!

My cupcakes have been described as mouth-gasms and are said to make your taste buds dance. I pride myself on making the whole thing taste divine, cake and icing together, and nothing leaves my kitchen unless I have tasted it and approved it.

I have now also started hosting cupcake decorating parties, supplying everything from the cakes to the sprinkles for a few hours of fun, whether it’s a kids’ party or some time with friends doing something different.

If after reading that you don’t go check out her website and order some damn-delicious-amazeballs cupcakes then you have no soul – just kidding – no seriously, no soul.

If that doesn’t tempt you…check these little creations out:

Dinosaur cupcakes! RAWR!

An octopus...on a cupcake! NOM!

Is that a Flake? ARRGH! NOM!

Hamburger cupcakes! NOM!!!

I told you so…go…order…you know you want to!

Tags: , , , , , , ,

The confession

31 May

So, yesterday…okay fine…for the past couple of days I have been making a menace out of myself and have been giving into some of the finer things in life. I’ve been cheating.

I admit it. I have been cheating, not only on you but on myself. I am ashamed and feel disgusting.

It’s not easy admitting to failure but I feel as though it’s time to come clean about what I have done and confess to you all – well, those of you that actually read this whole host of drivel.

I have been eating and eating well.

Okay, not that well, but I have been sampling some of the more delicious food groups on the market and may gawd is it all amazing. This past weekend, I slammed what can only be called a “Shintzel from Heaven” in my gut. I couldn’t help myself. It was cold, dark and I thought it was you…soup. It was amazing. I can honestly say it never stood a chance against my tremendous jaws of hunger and the satisfactory “fullness” I felt afterwards was testament to the something I have been missing out on for the past couple of months. I have seriously missed it. Just to bring you up to speed on my diet over this period. Soup. Biltong. Nuts. Fruit. And salad.

I know, right? Adventurous! It’s actually quite sad and to be honest with you, it’s all become rather tiring. I’m exhausted. My energy levels are at an all time low and my motivation to keep going is starting to wain.

Still feel motivated? No. How about now? Nope.

Look, it’s not all doom and gloom. I have lost a staggering 8kgs and that is seriously something to keep focused on to maintain my drive, but as I said in my last post…I’ve hit this “Plateau” and finding time to exercise after a full day of work as well as feeling as low as I am, is (I want to swear here) really hard. It’s not a question of motivation because I do want to keep going, but I feel like I’m losing sight of the path ahead of me. I don’t know any one else who’s going through what I’m currently experiencing – because gawd forbid another male come out and say that they have insecurities about the way they look and that they’re trying to lose weight – so, in all honesty, I feel like I’m on my own here. Now, before the ladies come to my rescue on that point, understand that men and women are different and asking me to relate to you will not work.

I really won’t and I don’t mean to offend you, but women have and deal with insecurities differently to men, so, even though I appreciate your support…you really can’t help me.

You can tell I’m dying for a little love, right? *internal snigger*

Storm Trooper Facepalm...yes...do it.

What am I really trying to say? That I feel like instead of being supported and having being told congratulations I’ve been made fun of and told that I’m being ridiculous? Maybe. Okay, yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Here’s where I kick myself in the face for sounding like a needy little scrotum and just carry on with life…I look back at those last couple of sentences and it reassures me that what I’m doing, this journey, this torture…whatever you want to call it, has been for me and for no one else. I don’t need recognition. I don’t need appraisal. I don’t need reassurance from anyone else but myself.

It’s really strange how clear things become as you write through them.

Tags: , , , , ,

The Plateau

9 May

Some of you might have forgotten that this unsung South African blogger is still practicing Project 10. Yes, I’m not there just yet.

To bring you up to speed, over the past 4 months, I have literally turned over a new leaf – no reference to salad there – to change for the better. To introduce the good, cut out the bad and hopefully reshape my physical appearance to not only present a better me to the world, but to feel better about who I am as a person. I have made reference to many related insecurities over the past couple of months and I’m sure you feel, as I do, that you know me a little better than the next South African web-scribe.

Insecurities...I haz 'em.

There are a couple of things to highlight before I give you an update. To date, I’ve yet to stop smoking. I have not had a fast food meal. I have indulged. I have yet to have a proper fizzy drink. I still am not fond of broccoli. I have consumed alcohol twice, in 4 months.

8 kilograms. That’s it. That’s the sum total of the weight I have lost over the passed 4 months. Please hold the applause because I’m about to get into the nitty-gritty of what it’s been like to not only deprive ones self of everything that has meant something to them, but has literally resorted to hurting myself in prevention of cheating on Project 10. It’s been hard, harder than I ever considered possible. Going out for dinner with friends is no longer fun. Shopping for food has become a mathematical task that now literally drains the life out of me. My refusal of good, wait, let me rephrase that, great food has now become automatic, not because I want to consider possibly indulging in said temptation but because I literally don’t have the strength to think about the tasty goodness that is a normal meal.

...I'm being good, I promise! Oooh...donut!

For the first 2 months of Project 10, I keep a food diary via Twitter. Yes, I food tweeted. It’s a sin, but I felt like it gave me some perspective over my day’s consumption. I will have you know, the online support of the project was overwhelming, so before I carry on, thank you to everyone who tweeted encouragement, strength and inspiration my way for those difficult teething months. Since then, I have remained as focused as I can; avoiding every temptation I can and buying the bare minimum to sustain my body. Don’t worry, I haven’t been starving myself. I’ve checked and rechecked my calorie intake and even though it’s somewhat lower than the average, it’s perfectly healthy.

I've never been intimidated by soup, until now...

Soup.It’s now my friend. I have been lucky enough to have been given a wonderful mother who has, over the years, taught me to make soup. I might not be any good at it, but I can do it. It’s been a “god-send” because if there is one thing I’ve learnt is that soup is both, thinning and nutritious. Single sugars. I haz them. I have been disciplined enough have gradually cut down my sugar in-take to a single spoon of sugar per cup of just about anything really, which only includes coffee and tea. Coffee is my life partner. Before starting Project 10, I wasn’t the biggest coffee drinking nor was I ever truly ever a coffee drinker, nowadays; I can’t get enough of the dark goodness. It’s an incredible substance. If I had it my way, I’d be intravenously smashing the stuff in my face all day. It’s wonderful.

Nom Nom Nom Dave!

8 kilograms. You might think it’s not that much, well, I can tell you now, that the biggest improvement from a personal perspective is a visual change. I curse the day I decided not to take measurements before starting the Project because the biggest improvement is that of centimeters. I need new jeans. They’d literally slide off if I never wore a belt and I jumped up and down while doing my happy dance.

Am I happier? I guess so. I’m actually not sure. Granted, it’s been great testing my strength of mind and pushing my temptation as far as it can go, but happy? I don’t know. Let’s just say this. I’m not there yet and I know that the only way I’m going to get there is to bring back the sergeant-strict-like discipline with regards to what I take in or to do something different. I opt for the latter. From the beginning of the year I decided that I wanted to do something different than the regular stuff-yourself-in-the-gym-and-klap-it-like-a-red-headed-step-child routine and I plan to stick to it and I have come up with the following options:

Yoga – I know, right? So hot right now, especially if I go with that Bikram stuff.

Even doing it right, looks wrong...

Running – the worst possible thing I can think of doing! “But think of all the kilo’s you’d shed!” said the annoying manorexic Dave inside my head.

"Smokey Morrison...on his final lap!"

MMA – Okay, before you slam me with a “jusis, boet hey” statement, just know one thing, I’m a lover, not a fighter. It would be purely fitness. No fighting, ever. *side eyes*

I can already feel the pain...

Right. So…different, right? Right? Yeah, not exactly the most imaginative set of options, but they’re different for me and are all routines I have never tried before.

So, this is where I stand. On the weight-loss plateau, surveying the kilo’s I’ve left behind, determined to leave them there and the change in routine I know I’ll have to embrace in order to overcome what only can be called…The Plateau.

Tags: , , , , ,

The Wild Card

22 Apr

What can only be described as a twist of fate, Jason Thomas…aka “I, the writer”, has been brought back from the studio where he’s been finishing up his rocking debut single that is prepped and ready to go! The powers that be from The Durex Ultimate Battle have decided that the two “winners” from the Play Off round at Rumours wasn’t enough and have awarded Jason the chance of being in the Top 20 bands (out of 150 I might add) as a Wild Card entry.

(Link to Facebook event if clicked on)

"I, the writer"

Now, usually I’d celebrate by getting naked and humping the first inanimate object I can find, but not this time! This time, I’m keeping my cool and asking you, my electorate to swing on by this Saturday to Cool Runnings in Fourways – yes, the one that looks like a Khoi San hut and come and support this rocking local talent! If you haven’t already heard his tunes, let me just tell you…this man is mustard! And I said that with the most cockney English accent I could do.

The Durex Ultimate Battle - Semi-Finals

As a wild Card entry, Jason remains the outside favourite going into this leg of the battle and he needs as much support as possible. What I managed to find out the last time we watched “I, the writer” at work, the venue took into consideration “the amount of people who came specifically to watch a chosen artist on the night.” I know, right? Bogus to the max. So, here’s the catch and a little insider information from me to you; there will be a cover charge at the door, but if you buy online through The Durex Ultimate Battle, you’ll grab a ticket for the event at a considerably discounted price – Win-Win, right? Or as The Sheen would say, “Winning”!

Well, that’s what we want for this local rocker, “winning” – the more peeps that come through the better his chances of winning. Plus, you’ll get to watch the other bands on the night, who I can’t remember but if they’re anything like the elevator assassins and Scissor-Sisters that were at the last battle, Jason is a shoe-in! So, come on down! If you manage to tweet me and let me know you’re there (and by that, I mean actually coming over and saying “Hello” in the flesh…I’ll buy you a beer! For real…no seriously, a tasty ale!) So, what are you waiting for…scrap whatever crappy plans you had for Saturday night and pull through to Cool Runnings to join me in watching “I, the writer” melt the faces off the people from Fourways!

Rocking.

Tags: , , , ,

What can I say

14 Apr

There have been some pretty unusual things happening to me lately. For one, I got knocked out cold last month, which has never happened to me before. I have had my personality questioned more so in my life than I every thought possible – when I say “my personality” I mean my outward facing person, you know, the one everyone else sees when they look at you – yes, that one and to top it all off, I’ve started thinking about marriage. I know, right? Me, marriage…insane!

The perfect wedding attire *slap*

Now before you all start calling the marriage exorcists, I’d just like to remind you that I am a Best-Man in my friend’s up coming wedding next month, so it’s to be expected that marriage is on the brain – I never insinuated I was thinking about marriage specific to my current life situation. Right, ummm…moving on.

The core focus to this blog post has got to be centered round “my personality type”, the questioned one, correct. After unraveling it for the past few days I have come up with two aspects of my persona that for one needs help and two, needs nurturing. I say nurturing because to be honest, I’ve never been one of those guys to be so introspective as to dissect who I am and “what I’m made of”.  Don’t get my wrong though, I’m introspective enough to give myself bloody hell for what I clearly think is wrong with me, but have never really given myself any constructive criticism about how to improve on things – until now that is.

Confidence, come get some?

Self-belief. It’s not something that has ever been my strong suit. Sure, I’ve done exceptionally well to get through most of the important things in life; school, university, low paying first jobs, heartache, you know…the remedial stuff really. The kind of self-belief I’ve learnt to distil in myself has been circumstantial, meaning; I’ve been able to muster up enough self-belief to be able to get myself through whatever has presented itself to me in my life. You know that time in your life when someone of motivation-status has “knelt” down to your level and said, “Come kid, you can do it. You believe in yourself!” Well, I think, as we get older, people stop saying that to each another and what happens is that we assume that role for ourselves.

We become the motivators for our own challenges as we play both “coach” and “player”. And just for the record, this is not a game. Coming back to my point, the kind of self-belief I’m referring to is one of generic basis. Have you ever just been motivated about being yourself on a day-to-day basis? I can’t remember the last time I felt something even remotely self-motivating. Right now, some of you are probably reading this and thinking to yourself, you just need a swift kick in the head and get back to studying some mantra from Chopper Read. The truth is, who has time to stop and motivate themselves during the day for no apparent reason. The more I think about it the more I realise that human beings arm themselves with emotional ammunition just as they’re about to go into battle. There is very little nurturing that goes on in-between the battles you fight on a daily basis. Sure, some of you out there might think that being in a relationship you get to feel loved and care for and yes, that could quite possibly form part of a nurturing bag of tricks, but in the end, a relationship is such a fine line between irritation and satisfaction that I wouldn’t rest my nurturing hopes on something that can be positive in the morning, depressive at lunch and then sky-high in the evening…even if I was in a relationship. I honestly believe that that constant reassurance and motivation needs to come from within.

Self-belief is created, not transferred.

Kind of dig that...not sure why though...

Confidence. Yeah, sure…I has me some of that. Do I use it, sometimes, I guess. You see, there…I wasn’t really confident about answering that. There was a particular occurrence last month that made me think more about confidence and what it meant to me. My office had an internal talent show that was more about how much you wanted to sacrifice yourself on the alter of dignity (I love that saying okay…) and how much <insert Spanish word for testicles here/> you had. One of our current designers walked away with first prize, not because the man had a good voice, but because he had <Spanish testicles/>. I mean, the guy rocked it, bringing back to life the King himself in a Jailhouse Rock rendition that might have made Steven Cowell pour acid in his ears, but the performance was through the roof. His confidence runith over and everyone in the room felt it. It was electric. I couldn’t have gotten up there. Not in a million years, plus, the only thing I have in my arsenal I consider to be a talent is; I can cook a mean English breakfast and I can give a wicked massage. I have healing hands okay!

Sissy girly man...get DOWN!

The point or question as it may I’m trying to make here is, is confidence just having the willingness to throw caution to the wind or is it something more? Can it be taught? Can it be developed or is it something that people are born with and use it whenever the mood strikes them?

I have confidence. I know I do. In all likelihood, it’s the kind of confidence that is strutted selectively, merely picking and choosing its public displays rather than walking around swinging it like a rubber hose, if you catch my drift. I’m not saying that all confidence-slinging-hose-slingers are…well, hose-slingers, but the fact of the matter is, there is a fine line between confident and arrogant and arrogant my electorate is not something I ever what to be labeled with. In my opinion, arrogance is the cheapest form of self-promotion a human being can display. Plus, I wouldn’t know how to be arrogant even if I tried. So then, it begs the question, how much confidence is too much? Where’s the bloody line? Who wrote the rules? And where the hell is this book of rules stashed because I “needs to get my visit on” to that bloody store!

Before I end, you’re probably all wondering how any of the above has affected my situation on the “lady front”. Being a single guy, confidence plays a major role in the way women see you. Displaying a confident exterior “game” showcases your attributes, likes, dislikes, opinions and whatever other plumage nature has given you to fluff up. So, to tell you honestly, I’m actually not sure how it has affected my situation because at the moment there isn’t one. Call it a hiatus, call it a emotional disengagement but the fact of the matter is, is that this single guy is unavailable. I’ve decided to throw up that sign, well because, I’m unhappy with myself – initiation of Project 10 and all other associated changes – I know I would be unable to share, create or receive anyone else’s happiness until I had achieved my own…on my own. Sound twisted? I thought so too in the beginning but it’s starting make more sense the more I embrace it. They say you can never be truly happy until you’re happy with yourself and I’ve come to really believe in that little slice of “Hallmark B.S.”. It really does make sense and there are a million sayings just like it…“what baggage you store away is the same baggage you arrived with” yada-yada…you get the picture.

I'm pretty sure this kid has <Spanish testicles/>...

The point I’m making is that, I know I’m going through a transition here and there’s no way I’m willing to subject anyone to my highs and lows, severe dietary requirements and worst of all, my unwillingness to emotionally connect. I just won’t do it.

In closing and not because I’m done, by any means, but because I’m not sure what else to say about me and the fact that I know I don’t exude the be-all-and-know-it-all exterior that some “confidants” (that’s the endearing term I’ve given to those who sling it…) have, but what I lack in vocal and visual display I like to think that I make up for it in action. To me, it’s always the smaller gestures that count the most. They say that a gentlemen’s words are magnified ten times when spoken softer than the common crowd. I’m not saying I’m soft spoken by any means, but I think applying that saying to actions can have the same effect.

What can I say…here’s hoping.

Tags: , , , , ,

Stitches, staples and a pocket full of dreams

29 Mar

I write this with both a feeling of trepidation and with a sense of guilt.

Some of you will know “some” of the details and for others, this is the very abridged version of what happened this passed weekend, yes, the Bachelors.

Friday night started and proceeded without a hitch. In between proposing to a n exotic dancer named “Natalia” and tussling with a fence, the Bachelors group – well, those who were together enough to carry themselves from one venue to the next – moved to our next venue, which in hind sight wasn’t the best idea ever. Over the next couple of hours there were two sets of incidents that seemed to over shadow what the Friday night, Part 1, as it has become known. The 1st Part came as a bit of a shock to me because the truth is; I haven’t a clue how it unfolded. From walking off the dance floor to landing up on my back in the middle of the club, supposedly I was libertied (and for all you non-South African readers, a “liberty” is the term given to the action of hitting someone when they aren’t looking or expecting it). Now, these are all “semi-confirmed” reports from the rest of the Bachelors gang on the night. I exited the dance floor and was hit from nowhere.

Okay, so I'm not missing any teeth...but damn, it's sore.

When I came to, I was dealt a rather nasty gash to the chin and it was decided that I should go to the hospital to have stitches, which I drunkenly agreed to. We exited the club and while waiting for our taxi, the “fine” gentlemen who we seemed to have upset earlier in the club and who were subsequently removed from the club because of their fist slinging ways were waiting for us – 10-12 of them this time – between the 6 of us, we were dealt, 1 set of bruised ribs, 1 torn MCL ligament, 14 stitches and 4 staples – most of the external embroidery landed up in my possession. I know, right? Tow-truck drivers? Whatcha gona do? There was no fight…they hit, we defended and got hurt, they ran. The end.

I walked out of Morningside Hospital at around 05:30 Saturday morning with 7 stitches to my jaw and 4 staples to the back of my head. Don’t ask how they got there, all I know is that they’re there. What did we do? Nothing. What could we have done? Reported it to the Police, in our state? Yah, sure…it would have looked like something like the “Hotel check in scene” from “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas”, I’d rather Pass Go and collect $200, thank you. If you’re wondering how I am right now, I’m fine…a little swollen and some mild bruising, but otherwise I’m quite fine. Stitches and staples come out on Wednesday and then the real healing can begin. I have booked myself in for some trauma counseling and I have joined a support group for men who need to HTFU! Please! I’m fine! To be honest, this isn’t the first time I’ve been slammed for no good reason, but this has definitely been the most serious case. It’s kind of laughable now, wasn’t then, but it is now…so it’s okay!

Oh yes…I’m open to random acts of kindness to ease my pain in the next couple of weeks, so ladies, feel free to sign up at the bottom of the post, and please…don’t hold back on the loving!

Go now and die for your beer...

We awoke on Saturday morning to behold what can only be called, a scene from Apocalypse Now, bodies strewn across every available comfortable surface we could find at one of the groomsmen’s abode. Let’s just say, no one was really very chirpy. 3 cups of coffee, 4 cigarettes later and we were off again – Part 2 – Booze, braai, buddies and a dam is all it took to turn 10 sad looking Vietnam Veterans into young, strapping privates who had just been drafted into the war on beer and all things alcoholic. We were again, ready for “War”. Part 2 was brilliant. Unfortunately I’m not going to divulge into too much detail here as no one was seriously injured, hurt or killed in the making of this…um…I mean quiet evening.

All in all, bruises, stitches and staples in tow…was it worth it? Yes.

Would I change anything? Yes! Although I could do without the extra appendages.

Did I have fun? Of course. It’s a little ironic that after the sabbatical I had away from the drink lead me to this point and yes, it is a little funny and many a colleague has already laughed at my expense, so please, feel free to toss your head back and have a good ol’ chuckle, because it is funny, even if it is at my expense!

So, what’s next, well…Project 10 has officially been sworn in as the ultimate bandage and out with the bad and in with the good will continue. Did I cheat my diet over the weekend? Regretfully, I did. Not out of choice mind you…there are very few things that could have stayed the kind of hangover and pain I felt both Saturday and Sunday mornings. Trust me. It hasn’t hindered my progress nor has it brought back any uncontrollable cravings, so I think I’ll be okay for now. Honestly, the thought of coming back to Project 10 felt like I was returning to “normality”, if that makes sense? I know a lot of you think that my eating habits might be a little extreme, but looking back on the Weekend of Satan’s Spawn, I can honestly protest that all of the crap I drank and ingested over the weekend…any normal person could do without. Fast food just doesn’t make sense anymore other than to form part of a dietary dependence, laziness and convenience. Fizzy drinks, well, okay…I still like those, but that’s only because I love to burp. *kidding*

Just so appropriate.

I could go on and on, internalizing this all until there is nothing left to hold on to, so I’ve made it easy on myself to summarize the weekend and it’s pros and cons, with 5 easy questions:

Do you know who you are?
Yes, I am David Alves. Writer, Geek and Social Media’s Last Rolo.
Did you have fun?
Yes.
Do you have any regrets?
No.
Are you continuing with Project 10?
Yes.
What did you learn?
That it’s okay to let you hair down, just not your guard.

Tags: , , , , , ,

The Decision

24 Mar

As most of you are aware, my latest challenge of losing 10kgs this year has been going swimmingly and if you’re up to date with the blog you’ll know that I have been dealt or thrown, depending on which sporting analogy you want to use – granted some say that poker isn’t a real sport, but to hell with them – a rather nasty curve ball in forgetting that I’m going to be a best man. Accepting this responsibility has come with two speed bumps; a Bachelors and the imminent wedding – both of which will be festive events and both of which will and should call for social lubrication, aka “The Drink”.

What I’ve decided to do hasn’t been easy and for some of you reading this will either lift your nose to say one of two things, 1) “Oh please, look how weak you are, giving up to a little peer pressure and just because it’s a Bachelors doesn’t mean you have to drink!” or 2) “Well then, what’s the point? Why carry on?” and the truth is, I don’t really have a rebuttal to either. I understand that giving up as much as I have has been a big sacrifice (well, to me anyway…I’m sure millions have gone on and done it just as easily) and that maybe I delved in too deep to begin with, but the honest truth is that I’m proud of myself for the things that I have achieved thus far and will continue to be proud of myself going forward. Yeah sure, so I’m drinking this weekend…and I’ll have a couple of glasses of champagne at the wedding, so f-ing sue me prat. I’ll be sure to put your “Compassionate Reassurance Cheque” in the mail along with a letter stating how you can pucker up and kiss my ass.

What a legend...

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, I’m going to try and make sense of this decision or should I have to? Why can’t it just be what it is? Frivolous fun? A celebration? Reward even? Or simply a blip on the screen of achievement in the Project 10 radar?

The honest answer is, I don’t know. I don’t know if this is truly going to impact my progress, whether it may be mentally, emotionally or physically. In the end, the only thing we’re talking about here is: alcohol. So, if you had ideas of donuts wrapped in boerewors for breakfast, think again Mr.McCain, I’m sticking to the diet. So, I’m throwing a little booze in the mix for three days out of the allotted 6 months…shame…should I call you a “Waambulance” because the colour in your judgmental face is starting to look like that one of the sirens strategically placed over that enormous-pride-stricken face of yours.

Right, that was my last defensive blurp in this piece because some of you might be thinking that I am attempting to justify my up-coming actions.

Mmmm...okay, my round!

I can assure you, I’m not. I’ve been very open about what I’ve felt, ate, struggled with and now I’m divulging what I’ve planning on doing…forgive me if I don’t see the difference there. What you have to keep in mind – and this is a recent revelation for me – everything that I have chosen to do, eat, not eat, deprive and reward myself of over the past 77 days has been all my choice. I have let no one alter my direction of influence my actions in anyway.

I was unhappy and I decided to do something about it…

…and I’m not about to stop now.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.