I was naughty today... I couldn't resist... temptation.. a little devil on my right shoulder, drop kicking the angel on the left!

I gave in.... my chubby little fingers caressing and unwinding and re winding my tape measure as it sat next to me..

I am weak .. I MEASURED MY CALF!!! ohh yes I did, I couldn't wait two more days.. I suppose it might be better to give into this temptation than spluttering cake crumbs as I scoff something.

Soooooo was it worth it.. YES! In just under two weeks I have lost three quarters of an inch around my calf! lalalaala little jiggly dance... oohh wibbling wobbles, shouldn’t of danced.

I resisted the urge to do any other measurements until Friday.. Honestly though I think this is because I am a little worried that there will be no change else where. I have this little niggling doubt that maybe over night my calf may regrow, or some other bizarre silly thing to knock my confidence….

I keep bringing myself down to earth recently.

I have been a little quiet over the last few days with my ramblings... I have not forgotten you my friends. I was just aware I might get a little boring and repetitive... I need my readers to help keep me strong, I didn’t want you to be running to the hills, as I roll out my waffle about weights, cord knitting and drill instructors.

The Dumpy One has settled her flab-oulous bingo wings and amorous thighs into a routine.

SO have I been a good Short and Dumpy One?

The last few days the rain has been filling the clouds, the days grey and threatening. That little inner voice that whispers 'Your hair will get wet!' ‘Your toes will get wet’ ’Your foot pounding would cause a tidal wave in that puddle.’ has been victorious. No run for me ( run meaning jog walk puff puff puff Huffing). I managed to fit in a few little walks, dumpy little arms powering and pushing me up the hill between rain drops, but no rubber has been burnt off of my poor un abused trainers. I suppose I should be content knowing none of my well earned mud, my working out war scars have been washed away from them.

My little waddling shuffle out of doors is better than nothing I suppose… to get my little puffing heart to thud.

A simple rule of thumb is 100 calories per mile for a 180 pound person. (This little tubby person is no where near that average poundage heheh )

For any other lumpy loveliness that might think that their few thousand steps a day isn’t enough, just remember…

You burn more calories per mile at very low speeds because you are basically stopping and starting with each step and your momentum isn't helping to carry you along. That’s not to say that at very high walking speeds you are using more muscle groups with arm motion and with a race walking stride. Those extra muscles burn up extra calories with each step.

The Dumpy One has turned a little obsessive due to climbing the walls because of the weather. . . . Searching the web for fitness facts, and I even started to count calories, viewing portions sizes and generally annoying myself being fanatical...

I want to drag you into my obsession… Look at my new favourite website http://www.wisegeek.com/what-does-200-calories-look-like.htm. It does exactly what it says! Pictures of 200 Calories of Various Foods.. Seeing a spoonful of peanut butter is a little scary. 34 grams = 200 Calories compared to Celery weighing in at 1425 grams = 200 Calories.

Other facts to get my curvy backside moving…

A pound of fat equals 3500 calories. To lose 1 pound a week you will need to expend 3500 more calories than you eat that week, whether through increased activity or decreased eating or both.

Oooooo I am even boring myself now….

One thing though.. did you realise there are 'servings' in a chocolate bar? Uhuhuh, hmmmm. Not going to comment any further on that one, other than say a serving for me would be a whole bar! (I only nibbled a corner I promise you. biting my lip as I turned away from the smooth taste that caressed my little deprived taste buds!)



Tonight I creak.... I am sat here now flexing my little short tree trunk legs, I could sell myself as a percussion instrument!.

Tonight’s squats were accompanied with miniature drum beats as my knees knocked and clicked with every 'down and pulse!'. At the start I could almost fool myself into thinking there was a cricket inside the room. At least I was keeping a tuneful tempo…

I think I may have been punishing my wobbly bits into submission in more of a dominatrix fashion than I should have…. Equip me with a whip and some spiky heels.

Aches and pains daily reminders of the 90 minutes sessions that I have been pummelling my uncoordinated wobbly bits into obeying.

OOoOoo but I am going to obey my need for beauty sleep now.. If only because it means one less sleep until I can caress my tape measure again!

Isn't it strange the way we reward ourselves...

Sweet dreams

S xx

Torturing the body, torturing the soul & chocolate covered raisins! Or...embracing the pudge!

So here I lay on my tummy, stretched across the bed gazing out at the rain drops racing each other down the window pane, as I try to sum up my weekend, tapping and clicking on the lap inter web knee top book thing.

Squishy cushioning spilling forth from either side, as the handles of multiple love adoringly absorb my weight. Cascading pudge with no where to escape but out.

No Short and Dumpy One, it’s not your ample cleavage on your chest that creates this armpit stash. It’s the growing boob garden on your back, and the soft cosy jelly belly around your middle…….

Muhahhaa but that is shrinking. I am still at the stage of pulling an inane self satisfied smug grin as I catch a glimpse in the mirror as I turn to leave the bathroom. I AM FLAB-ULOUS! ( well certainly a little tiny bit less flabby!)

This Dumpy little lady, through the journey of trying to change herself, has stumbled across a new found love of her wobbly bits. Its called acceptance... what an odd time to find it?!

I've dyed my hair, pierced my ears, had a tattooists needle trace lines over my skin, and while I love my breasts, I'm sure I've been a little over zealous in sharing them with the world at times. All in an attempt to gain that instant gratification…. Hearing words like "you look nice today" feels good, especially if we feel like our weight keeps people from seeing us a certain way... but I think I lost perspective.

Because at the end of the day when we take out our piercings, remove that nail varnish, wipe the lipstick away... if we don't feel comfortable in our own skin-- it doesn't matter…

This working out malarkey seems to be have a very odd side affect! The more I do, the less I seem to worry about the here and now! (maybe because I am doing something to change it?) The less sucking in of the tummy as I pass a reflective surface… admittedly though, maybe a few times I have glimpsed at my shadow on a run and sucked in harder than an amorous vacuum on steroids! Once or twice or thrice…. Or more… but habits are hard to change.

At the moment its become less about the physical sucking in of my belly, it's more mental. ..When I do glance down as my shadow blots out the sun, causing ants to wonder if armageogon is approaching, when I catch myself start to sigh yet again about how fat I look, I find myself telling my more fragile side, "Yup, you're fat, deal with it, suck it up." I find that once I admit that physically sucking it in fails to satisfy my need to "look" thinner, I am able to admit the truth and suck it up mentally to gain enough confidence to run head held up.

No body warned me that this exercising could become as addictive as chocolate covered raisins!

No body warned me that I would stop caring what I looked like as I sweated away the pounds! My hair tends to resemble the infamous scene of ‘There’s Something About Mary’, fringe sticking up at 90 degree angles, a result of my self styling hands pushing it out of my face. Mascara melting, to dry and reform in an artwork of squashed spiders legs. Bruises from the equipment contrasting against my pasty white skin.

Why do I keep going !?! Because I love endorphins. I love feeling stronger. More agile. I can tie my shoes without holding my breath. I can pick papers up off the car floor without having to wait until I get out of the car. I don't breathe quite as loudly. I have lost that doddering, uncertain old lady's walk that made strange teenaged boys try to hold doors or carry things for me.!!

Speaking of which….NOBODY WARNED ME ABOUT SHOELACES!

With the amount of time I add extra un demanded squats my glutes should be soild! I just can't seem to keep my shoe shoelaces tied. It drives me crazy, having to bend over to tie them every 5 minutes. Resulting in a double triple dipply dobble knots that result in me almost having to get the scissors, in my hurry to remove my sweaty swollen blistered feet after I have finished before they cook!

(Apparently, for those of you that also share my lack of ability to tie laces…... some shoelaces are made of a material that is slippery and has a round shape. They are practically impossible to keep tied. Even when you double knot them they will loosen, and you'll feel your foot swimming around in your shoe. If that's the case, buy some old-fashioned cotton laces that are flat. They'll tie snugly and will be a lot less likely to untie themselves as you waddle)

This weekend I limited myself to following instructors… I truly didn’t fancy witnessing the nightmarish onslaught of black steel, twisted and hard, encasing the bodies of poor souls. The weight of the device bearing down on the chest of suffering men, sweat dripping from their brow as they endure the pain. Women, strapped onto some tool, stretching their body to and fro as they grimace in agony. Torture devices as far as the eye can see, each imprisoning another wretched body. This may sound like I'm describing some medieval dungeon, but I'm not. I'm describing a horror far worse... the gym.

However my punishment was verging on self inflicted torture! For some bizarre unfathomable reason, I chose to increase the weights I use from 4lb to 8lb. I think in the far recesses of my addled brain I believed it was good to test my body further, to change it up a pace.

Thirty minutes later, my back and shoulders take on the form of jelly! I have not one ounce of strength left to ‘bring you elbows to your ears!’… how strange that after only 1800 seconds, I am unable to lift a match stick and my muscles are so abused that they are hot to the touch….. Today I did feel frustrated.. I truly thought I had increased my core strength significantly… after this form of self harm beating I feel a little annoyed at myself and at my ‘oh so worthy attitude and the I’m doing GREAT motivation’.

I threw quite a few new and imaginative swear words back to my motivated self I can tell you!

Straight after the weights I went into a thirty minute session with the resistance cords, centring on obliques and abs .

How odd that the alien language of ‘Rhomboids’ ‘Grapevine’ ‘Body Wave’ ‘French Press’ ‘Curl’ ‘Pulse’ seems to be slowly making sense! Help help help, somebody help! I think I have been abducted and had a exercise nerd chip inserted! (shame I didn’t feel it hehehe).



I will not go into the sections or the type of knitting I created with my cords today…. Or how many times I was left standing stock still in the middle of the room trying to loop and re loop and increase tensions. …Lets just say I am working up to making Christmas gifts for all the family at this rate.




I shall leave you with a few questions that have been running through my mind…

When with my co ordination improve?

Does my rippling wobbly jiggly bits burn extra calories as they Mexican wave after each press up?

Why can’t evolution make midges that suck fat rather than blood? Could Mother Nature sort this before my next jog by the river?

Why Invest in a Treadmill?... (ooo the thought of watching telly while exercising does appeal though ooo choices!

Today I decided to pop my phone into my back pocket as I left the house, in order to take a few piccies of the things I see while running. (plus it was an excuse to stop and breathe!)
There was a slight fear that as my curvy bottom jiggled side to side as I ran, that every bounce might loosen the phone from its rather squishy nestled home.
I know photos are exciting! BUT alas, I am sorry, it is still not a sexy little before and after shot.... but I wanted to share with you, or maybe just me, maybe I truly am the only one whom reads my posts hehe, anyway where was I ? Ahh yes .. I wanted to share with you the reason I keep heading outside everyday to rack up my steps, or to jog huff pant huff collapse on my c25k jog.

(Well the wobble is the reason, but this is the reason that my motivated dumpiness is mostly victorius over the lazy wimp who quite likes her wibbly wobbles during the constant internal battle of wills)

Everyday my destination may remain the same, but the view constantly changes. I am a rather lucky lady, even after .....

Thinking I had swallowed a high proportion of the midge population of Leeds! yes yes pretty river, yes yes lovely view of the ruins.. cough cough yuckkk bleerrghhhhh

OOooo how many calories in a fly???

So decisions, telly and treadmill? OR a step outside...

Decisions.. Did you know the activity of watching televison for 20 minutes burns 40 calories, of that the percentage of calorie burn from fat is 60%, meaning that 24 of those calories burnt come from fat alone!! (I am sure the numbers are twisted somewhere, I take no responsibility for it hehehe)

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall, Who Is the Dumpiest of Them All? ….

Sometimes being on a diet causes us to walk head down, as we enter the bathroom refusing steadfast to greet the eye of the fatty in the mirror. All focus fixated on that damn scale display as we weigh ourselves for the third or fourth time that day. …

Come now, don’t you be denying it!

The little jig the foot shuffle as we kick and wriggle our toes from our shoes, AND THE BIG EXHALE OF THE HELD BREATH, WHEN WE SUDDENLY REALISE WE WERE HOLDING IT IN.. AS IF THAT LUNG FULL OF AIR MIGHT BE ALL IT NEEDS TO TIP THE SCALE OVER THAT HALF A POUND!

This was the reason that I refused to have a set of scales. (I could try the kitchen scales but I foresee a slight flaw in that plan) As I have waffled to you previously, I want any change to be measured or reflected in the mirror, or within myself, and the waist band of my jeans.

Tonight I spent some personal one on one time with my mirror! (why does that sound so perverse, I am sorry hehehe)

I caught myself as I performed the habitual ‘suck’, an attempt to shed a few virtual pounds to deceive myself, squeezing my belly button back into my spine.(All this sucking it in really... well... sucks! )

STOP IT! STOP IT STOP IT SILLY WOMAN!

And so, after a stern telling off to my reflection, exhale and let the wobble be free.

Let’s appraise the goods…..

The very tops of my inner thighs remain star-crossed lovers, and they still re-enact the moving scene of being at long last reunited for a long, passionate kiss.

Words like “Ruben-esque,” “voluptuous,” and “bodacious” ‘’pleasing plump’’ all spring defensively into my vocabulary.

NO ADMIT IT OBESE!

This Short and Dumpy One is prone to spending most of my time avoiding prolonged self-scrutiny in the mirror.
I am most certainly not about to start using the hand-helds so I can get a more accurate look at my all-too-obvious wobbly flaws from all angles….

So tonight I was out of my comfort zone. To appraise and gaze at myself in order to see a change….a difference brought about by stretching my muscles into submission….


Excitingly I DO ! I see it, I keep stroking it! My gaze lingers at the new improved, wholly more kissable region. My neck… and the very top curve of my shoulders… THERE’S LESS OF IT!

Now, I admit - the bra straps should be a giveaway but I honestly was thinking I had stretched the fabric during the recent bouncing boob wrangling.


My back and shoulders always haunted me, they have an evil stalkerish habit of creeping up on me from behind ( lol sorry that was terrible wasn’t it) My shoulders had got closer to my skull steadily over the years of being fat..

It seriously is akin to being attacked from behind. It is an area I could fool myself into forgetting…my main attention centring on the parts I can see on a daily basis. Or the bits that need to be crammed into my ever-shrinking jeans and trousers……

That was until my sister snapped a spontaneous photo of the clan over Christmas dinner last year. My cheeks hampster esque as they were caught in a mid smile, mid chew, my head turned half to the camera, Quasimodo-esque lumps plumping out of my floaty shirt…Layered rolls, tumbling, cascading. Displaced skin. Pudge with nowhere to go but out. Shoulder blade cushion. Armpit stash. Ooohoo MY !! Ohh nooooooo my first introduction to MY shoulder and back Fat.
(I will upload that photo in time. I promise.)

As I do a little excited twirl around the bathroom, trying to catch a glimpse of my back in the mirror, stupidly forgetting I am not an owl with 280% degree vision, I am smiling a rather smug inane grin!

By no means can I see the collar bones, I am no where near elfin neck perfection, the change may only be mere millimetres…. BUT THERES A CHANGE!

A change has occurred through the actions that I had made!

Cue smug happy proud of herself Dumpy lady….. Now where was I ? ahhhhh time to return my attention back to being focused on they wobbly wibbly jelly belly, sprawling thighs, and bulging behind.

Mirror, mirror on the wall who is the Dumpiest One of All?

For once, or maybe at least for just tonight I am comfortable with my tummy, no suckage required because that wobbly jiggly belly is on its way OUT! Slowly, ever so slowly, but for certain.

Thoughts of Walking, and Walking Thoughts

21.30 Here I sit, leaning against the wall, the lap inter web net note top book perched on my knees. For the past hour or so I have been clicking and tapping away as I lose myself in random things on the internet, giving the Short and Dumpy site a rather va va voom face lift, daydreaming away the seconds and minutes.
I know I should have been composing another blog post, thinking about the words to describe my well earned aches, or of a way to play out the embarrassing things I do in a way to bring a smile. Somehow I can't bring myself to complain about the pain I feel today.

22.41 Showered, scrubbed, hair wet and pulled back from my face. Smelling faintly of the ginger and orange blossom soap that I used to wash the day a
way, mixed with Vosene, a comforting smell from my childhood. (the only reason i brought it was for the smell and the memories it stirred). I am ready to bring you back into my world.

Sometimes it is easy to become lost in the labels we apply to ourselves and others. The 'Fat Girl', 'The Blonde', 'That Tall Skinny Girl', 'The Nurse', we all do it endlessly. Sometimes we forget that one person can be many things.

Even I label myself The Short and Dumpy One. This is true and a major facet that makes up and defines my personality. A self deprecating happy and secure wobbly thing. This whole ‘blog’ is built on that.

However, tonight I wanted to draw you in a little into the other side of your narrator. So welcome to my little bed where I sit crossed legged, head down, glasses slipping lower and lower needing to be pushed back every few minutes. The soft lilting vocals of Kate Rusby playing accompaniment to my tapping, almost singing a lullaby to my sleepy fingers as they type, I keep finding them slowing to the rhythm. This is a calmer, more accepting of myself Dumpy One. This is a version of myself that is not focused on my weight or my drive to 'lose it', how wibbly my wobbly bits are today, just a 'me' enjoying the ticking minutes as I lull myself to sleep.

Today was a good day! This Short and Dumpy One feels fully and utterly contented. Soaking up the very last of the remains of the day, as she listens to the sounds of the evening as the breeze blows through the open window.

The contentment lasts until I try to get up hehhe. I had to shuffle to the shower like a little old woman.

Today this wibbly wobbly little lady spent almost all day in the outside world! Pedometer resting on hip, cowboy gun slinger style! The nervous ocd tick of constantly checking it had returned hehehe.

It registered 11516 steps until a wild jiggle caused it to reset.

My face across my chubby little cheeks and bridge of the squit nose, upper shoulders and chest bare a rather rosy red glow where the sun has caught them.


The only purpose of walking today was to complete 10000 steps, no destination, no hurry, just to allow my feet to take me where they wanted to go. I blame walking for my odd mood tonight heeheh and for that I apologise. I have to admit though it is so freeing, to know I am doing good for my body while allowing thoughts to wander.

Lately my brain is whirring and whirling, with seemingly millions of things to deal with and mull over and work through. Walking seemed a release to allow my brain to have full reign.

The pedometer is still fulfilling its role as my favourite new toy.
Allowing me to gauge roughly a bare minimum of the energy I should put into my treks. Not that I cared as I strolled through the shadows of the trees as a soft breeze blew, the sun coaxing people from all warps of life out to enjoy the day.
I would so recommend someone investing in a pedometer. Even a short 10 - 20 minute stroll, just for the sheer purpose of walking for yourself, maybe an escape from the four walls after work, or to soothe a screaming child, feels even better when you glance down and see the numbers racking up.

Before I returned home the Short and Dumpy One was more than ready and warmed up to complete the running training intervals. Today it felt good, I am still totally unfit, I still haven’t mastered the simple art of breathing whilst jogging, BUT I enjoyed it today, every second past the time I should of stopped but pushed on, my smile grew an inch. (Not truly a pretty sight, think the Joker in Batman!)

I have decided that I will repeat this weeks training, doing an additional set of these very first intervals. I want my body to adjust to this running malarkey as a permanent feature, I can afford another week in a life time.


I shall leave you safe from my ponderings tonight. I am sure tomorrow I shall return to my wobbly self. I wanted to record a humorous and candidly honest account of what it feels like, day in and day out, often year in and year out, to be FAT and trying to ‘lose it’; track my progress, my mindset, my success and my failure, personal setbacks, and embarrassing misadventures.

This remains true, but forgive me today for my laid back tappings and musings, like a long and languid yawn-stretch after a long night's sleep, it has recharged me and helped me set a few things straight in my mind. We shall power on to Va Va Voom, but sometimes the opportunity to reflect on the past and contemplate the future is simply yummy, I blame it solely on the pleasures of walking!


(The hill of death with its 20% incline was not a pleasure I hasten to add! Admittedly for the last 5 minutes of the walk before I reached it all my chilled out thoughts were steam rolled by it!)

Tomorrow I shall go into the calorie burn and muscle strengthening of walking more and in a more scientific weight loss kind of way….. I promise.

I hope you lovely readers like the facelift on the page. I think it is rather scrumptious. Let me know your thoughts.

Goodnight and sweetest dreams S xx

March 2 3 4 keep it up 2 3 4. Sir, Yes Sir. Bootcamp workouts.

There is not much I can say about today. Not because I do not wish too, more to the point I am unable to!



Descriptive words include: sweat sweat sweat Abs! sweaty sweat sweat ridden sweat.


The instructor was even sweating today! A rather attractive, movie star like sweat BUT I saw it! It was there!


Today I think I managed to persuade myself it was too cold, too grey, too light, too dark, too murky, too brisk, just too much too.. To go out and do my run.

Time to pull out my punishment for being a lazy wimp. BOOTCAMP EVENING!.

War paint on, hair scrunched back, big baggy old t shirt as my camouflage. Muddy trainers acting as hobnail boots.


Somewhere, under the wobbly jelly like, but slightly sexy, well a little tiny bit if you squint, curvy hips and insulating belly my abs are pulsing and fidgeting.


Tonight my drill, sorry workout, required more coordination than I have. At times dumpy little arms and legs were verging on weapons of mass destruction as they whirled, kicked,‘quad starred’ ( no, I still have no idea either!) and ‘hooked’ in time to the beat.

In the end I admitted defeat at some points and just kept moving fighting to stay with the instructor the best I could, doing jumping jacks with wild flaying windmill arms when I got lost. I decided at least I was keeping my little pumping engine hammering.

Sweat is good sweat is good. Keep the mantra up in my head as I wipe it out of my eyes. Certainly not attractive but good!


This workout alternated three sections of plyometric moves (fast paced weight training plus some power moves without weights, short, strong jumping like jumped scissors or jumps combined with push-ups) and three cardio rotations..

The cardio was a shock to my system, totally undiluted it wasn’t the pumping I was used to but with some modifications hooks, kicks and a jump called "shooting the basket" oh yes I felt like a basket player! SCORE! Not so much a military precise boot camp trainee, but at least something different.)

. Before the last cardio section I think most people are almost ready to give up, but the music is so motivating and the comedy moments of the wobbly bits failing remain funny enough, that this Dumpy One put all my energy I had left at this point into it for this last part.
The instructor being breathless as she drilled my body into positions it refused to pivot into had me almost saluting.


I can hear the Thud thud thuddery thud of my heart beat not only feel it.

The cool down (with core training) was more of a warm down for me! With some floorwork mainly abs and pushups.

I actually voiced the words ‘Ouch! Bloody hell! As crunches and abs were held.

Cool down my heart rate maybe, I still have sweat dripping down the cleavage!

I do have a confession to make… I did the majority of these moves without clutching weights.
My next encounter with my BootCamp drill instructor I will use light hand weights. This Short and Dumpy one is not too ashamed to admit I will have to build up slowly and steadily to increase the heaviness, unless I want to end up needing a platoon to scrape me off of the floor.

Gives me a good excuse to spend money on pretty coloured weights though. Wooohooo!

Some women worry weight training with bulk and hulk them up. My point of view is I am already bulky!

After some research, it seems weights help to build lean muscle that will increase metabolism and burn more calories faster than before… that’s what we like :D

AND MAKE ME SWEAT MORE ! Remember sweat is good! We love sweat because it means your body is burning carbohydrates, fats, or proteins to produce energy for your exercise and for recovery.

Sniff, sniff.. Hmmmm still embracing the sweat, but best I run up the stairs and embrace the shower too!

Ooo and I would walk 5000 STEPS, and I would walk 5000 STEPS more. Does not have the same catchy rhythm as the Proclaimers version does it?

Bank Holiday Mondays Escapades.

The Dumpiest One on the block almost tackled a mountain today! Ok ok I didn’t, but it felt as steep as one. One must try to remember, when walking at a fast pace, little wobbly legs powering down embracing the forward momentum, that One must also return and have to use those same little short legs, and power the puffing engine by pumping the bingo winged arms, to make slow painful process back up that disgustingly steep hill!

This hill of doom, will become my marker point, my measure for any increase in my stamina and fitness. One day I will jog up that hill! (I did write run, and technologically crossed it out with the delete key!)

Today the Short and Dumpy ones walk just fell slightly over the two mile mark. Only slightly I must admit, teetering on the edge.

Tomorrow the goal has been set. 10,000 steps. No hip jiggling, no stamping on the spot or hand waggling. 10,000 rubber trainer-ed sole to the pavement steps. I will not be content unless I return home with a blister! (of course this will give me a source of fruitless moaning, whining and whinging of why I cannot move for the rest of the day to make myself a cup of tea)

To fool my muscles into looking forward to this onslaught, I am sending mental pulses to them telling them we are helping to save the planet! The idea being I walk to the place I am normally chauffeured to in order to run. Muhauhuaha should be a good warm up for the old wibbly wobbly calf muscles before I whack out the interval training of the run-jog-pant-puff-huff-collapse. (slightly worried about the walk or stumble back. Also worried about forgetting to remove the pedometer when I start to run, it bouncing off my hip as the ripple of impact travels up my leg and it flying off to ricochet off any poor dog walker passing by)

Talking about things flying off and causing injury…. Tonight I successfully managed to not only make a cats cradle out of my resistance cord, but perfect my talent of looking like a demented kitten chasing a ball of wool. Not only that! I succeeded in transforming it into a massive rubber band and twating and twanging it into my forehead! Oh yes, I am amazing! Not many have this level of skill and ability to look like an escaped clown on day release from pre school! I feel quite proud.

Thirty minutes later the whack on the head must have been affecting me, as a result of the trauma and temporal lobe damage, I did an extra 10 minutes of squats and pliaes, in order to try to coax my wobbly bits into perfecting the proper form, before dancing and gyrating around the room to Rhianna’s Umbrella as I put my cords away. (it was not a pretty sight!)

The other important step I took today, was to take measurements of all of the bits I wish to change. Strangely enough for someone so determined to change themselves and their life, I do not have a set of scales in my home. I refuse to. I know that I would be tempted to stand on them upwards of 3 or 4 times a day, I know this as I have in the past.

My main aim is to start converting fat to muscle which is heavier. I know that within my mind, although I am fully aware of this fact, any increase or status quo (why am I now humming ‘rocking all over the world?) would have a negative affect on me. Not sure I am doing the best thing, but my measure will be looking in a mirror, and also tracking the progress by noting how my clothes are starting to feel looser and by using the tape measure to take mymeasurements.


Daily weighing would lead to discouragement because of the fluctuations in weight that can occur on a daily basis from water retention, especially for women when their menstrual period nears.

Weight can also fluctuate during the time of day so if a person gets on the scale in the morning one day and then in the afternoon the next day, he or she may see a "false" weight gain.

SO, I plan to measurements every two weeks. And to weigh myself once a month.
I am playing with the idea of taking monthly body shots. I will I will I will I promise myself.

Say CHEESE Dumpy One! Noo put that block of dairy down! The other kind of ‘say cheese!’ The camera never lies!