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?