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?

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!

The pink Gym ballerina princess, putting the pedal (ometer) to the metal.

Good morning, goooood morning the sun has got his hat on and all my aches have gone away lallalalala ti dum lalal luu do. Sorry that is horrendous isn’t it. More to the point it is not even the slightest bit sunny outside. However, I feel rather good and shiny (not just sweaty from a workout).

SO where did we leave off. Ahhh the wine induced previous post. Skip over that, to a re motivated determined little Short and Dumpy one! So I hear you groan with suppressed excitement hehe, what did I get up to on Sunday.

(completely un related, I love this spell checker, that creeps behind me and automatically places capitals for me when my fingers feel to lazy to stretch to the shift key!)

At the moment, I don’t think I will ever get bored with working out. Why? Presents, shopping, new glittery shiny girly things. A transference has occurred, no longer do I find myself tea in hand about to flick mindlessly over the pages containing handbags, or sigh wistfully at the new and improved conditioning lengthening flicking amazing gorgeoufiy gravity defying mascara.

No, I have new outlets! I find my chubby little fingers tapping against a picture of a treadmill, or a gym bag (well let us not get to far removed from ourselves hehe).
Have you seen all the different candy coloured, pastels, neon 80s coloured range of weights, dumb-bells and a whole lot of I don’t know what gizmos.

Today I was given a new toy. I have a pedometer! After the initially giving into the urge to sit down and shake it about to see how many steps my hands could register, on it clipped to my hip and off out we go !

I was a little wary that it would register double, the step then the jiggle of my hip, then a little disappointed when I realised it didn’t. Grrr.

I think I must of looked a little like a sufferer of OCD, as every few steps up went my shirt to expose my hip as I constantly checked my new little gizmo. Counting off in my head then three seconds later checking my count matched the display. As I settled into the walk my nervous tick of flashing flesh settled down into a more relaxed but still constant hand twist in order to touch it to make sure it was still there.

It felt odd. Not because I didn’t enjoy this form of exercise, but because I was exercising in jeans, and to all on lookers I was just out for a stroll.

The steps mount up so fast, averaging 500 for every 5 minutes. I was working (and walking) my curvy behind off, but not feeling any strain. You know me not one to give my calve muscles a day off, I would peek around the corners and chose a route that encountered a hill.

I set out not knowing or caring where my feet would take me, my only goal was to walk about 2500 steps. Arriving back at my front door, after resisting the urge to walk head down staring at the display for all of 20 minutes, I even shocked myself as it flashed up 4887. I had walking nearly two and a half miles just for the sheer enjoyment of walking, of treading away down unknown streets and lanes, the feeling of rain in the air against my skin. WEIRDO.

Why had I not thought of doing this before?
I have fallen in love with my new gadget, or infatuation? Maybe addiction, as I have decided to try to walk 5000 steps every day. Not around the house, not running up and down the stairs heheheh AS IF THAT WOULD HAPPEN! But open the front door, step put into the world steps.

In fairness after researching some facts on the ‘inter-web’ (see I told you I had turned this fitness thing into my new retail therapy). There are certain ways to exercise and burn fat and this is generally known as aerobic training. This means that you work your heart rate into a certain zone and your body efficiently aims at the fat as well as your carbohydrates. Anaerobic training is when you push yourself harder and your heart rate is above your aerobic zone but you really only attack the carbohydrates. There are different schools of thought on this and I'm no expert.

Now this is where I come unstuck because even at my slowest pace I am above my maximum aerobic heart rate. Therefore, every bit of running I have done recently, I've never been in my fat burning zone. Many rather clever people have hinted at the fact that walking at an even pace, with intervals of faster foot pounding would put me into the right fat burning zone, as well as help strengthen my muscles for my running.

MORE importantly, I get to wear my new toy!

The evening heralded the call to battle of the burn with the instructors war cry of ‘Heel to the Glute!’. Oddly no scream of resistance came from my tempestuous thighs.


IT was weight slinging night! Twisting, turning and you guessed it squatting with my 4lb of bubblegum pinkness. I had never thought of myself as a girly girl, and certainly not a gym princess wearing matching colours, all tones perfectly balanced. However, enter a little daughter, glitter and my weight. Exit a sparkly disco ball effect bubblegum pink weight covered in glitter. Now for those of you not been acquainted with this substance. Glitter is the herpes of the crafting supply world. Once you have encountered it, it will never ever never vanish!


So as I worked out my arms and abdomen, my puffy pink cheeks completing the ball perfectly, the pinkish hues on my chest and arms picking out the tones in the red glitter, little reflections of light dancing over my skin, highlighting my sweat. I felt beautiful. Heheh honestly I did.

Tonight I found myself looking forward to the ‘Plie’ and curl, how odd it is that within a week I find myself looking forward to a new favorite move that seven days previous had every ligament and joint groaning.

Plie: a wide stance with the toes turned out. Bend your knees over your toes and come halfway down into a demi-plié. By bending deeply until your legs are approximately parallel with the floor. Keep your heels on the floor rather than raising them. Then add lifting the weight hehehe.

So there I was, sparkling like a star, dressed in matching tones of pink, accented with my pink rosy cheeks, performing ballet moves, without the grace or charm or perfect form that should accompany them, but having a rather lovely time feeling like a gym princess.

Put the kettle (weight) on and lets chat about Jogging and releasing bosoms to the wild.

The Short and Dumpy one is in pain. Not a nice little stabbing pain that fades away like a paper cut, no .. actual full body (well thigh) dull ache cramping movement inducing noise machine of squeaks pain!
This to be totally honest, serves me right for waking up all smug thinking last nights session with the kettle bell weight only left me with wrist ache(that sounds all kinds of wrong sorry) Running in the rain has awoken the pain that should of been there last night.

I am being a little dramatic. The true extent of the ache is centred on my ankles and thighs , I think the running (I say running when I mean jogging in bursts, huffing and puffing) just tickled the newly worked over areas. I usually have a little calf ache after a jog, it is like a reminder that I have done some good today.

Last nights plan was resistance cord training... now lets not give it a functional name, lets be truthful, last nights plan was pain, stretched muscles, a disbelief any human could be able to do those moves and a determined ugly gurning face

In the end I opted for slinging a 4lb weight about and twisting my abdomen in all kinds of ways in order to ‘Push and Pull’. I wish the instructor sounded a little less like my old midwife.
I did a thirty minute session before tapping away the very first post on this here ‘blog’, but felt we should get a little acquainted before I started to tell you of my achy inner thighs :D.

I think its easy to want to rush ahead and make the most of any new found motivation to really push, but reality tends to hit me full square in the face and remind me that number 1 - I am UNFIT number 2 - I have no idea how to do that lunge. I sweated along as the instructor breezed through the moves, I don’t care that I am slow, that I am sweating and red faced as the beautiful people continue to look like they have stepped out of ‘The Bold and The Beautiful’, or skipped merrily from the screen of ‘Glee Club’. I keep reminding myself that each time it will get easier, and that I am sure that one day my thighs will be persuaded to do that unhealthy looking squat thing. I was surprised at how much adding in a weight could really change up a routine. Honestly though, that little weight seems to get heavier. Saying that I was sweating just after the warm up.

I find it hard to make my wobbly bits shape so seamlessly into the right forms for the exercises. Theres plenty of squats and lunges with biceps and triceps curls, moves that although look pretty straight forward and nothing too complicated , the grapevine, jumping jacks, samba moves and floor work, I know I am struggling not so much physically but perfecting the form. It is FRUSTRATING but it is driving me to keep going as I want to beat my body into submission to pull off those moves.

Today I ran. I will not lie, I put it off until the early afternoon, noting the grey and the rain outside. Who was I explaining that away too, only myself. How pointless are the excuses I can make up, when only I am the one loosing out by making them.
Its raining.
I’m a wimp.
I need a sports bra!
I have a hole in my heel
I feel fat.
I’m constipated.
I’m sore
I’m tired
I’m grumpy
I’m happy
I’m moody
I’m depressed.
PMS
I’m too sleepy.
My heart rate is too high.
My heart rate is too low.
I don’t have a heart rate.
I’m not really a runner.
I’m not really an athlete.
My body fat is too high …
My hair hurts…

It was raining today, and yes I do need a sports bra, but out I went for my 30 minutes of jogging and walking repetitions. I have some silly habits when it comes to this jogging business. It is only been a few months since I started jogging a little. It is only this week that I have put a plan into place. The C25K.

I found comfort today looking around the park as I ran. Yes, there was the lean and slender brand clad beautiful people, complete with air brushed make up and static hair. But also another woman like me. Well, lets not depress her if she was to stumble across and read this, she was half my size but still starting out, and looked to be doing reps similar to myself, running alongside a supportive friend timing for her. It made me smile, knowing that we all have to start this love of running somewhere. (Its not a true love yet for me, its more like an infatuation that causes a hate similar to ‘Fatal Attraction’. Or a crush on some unattainable man.)

At one point I had to over take those walking out their 2 minutes, both hands holding my breasts in place so not to cause injury to the public. This was not a comic moment, this was a bloody annoying constant evil. I have previously had the habit of wearing 2 bras in order to stop the bounce. Not today. Oh no, thinking I knew best, off I went in a flimsy underwired bra. 60 seconds into my first rep, booooing, they sensed freedom and timed their escape perfectly with my up stride. I feared for the mental health of the other runners, as they saw the sight of my bosoms free falling left right up and down bearing down on them.

Another lady was red faced and puffing hard as we greeted each other with a knowing smile. She was much farther along on her running journey and up to what looked like 8 minute reps.

The wide spectrum that we all represented, from perfection to panting heaps, shared a common desire that had pushed us out into the rain. We want to be something more than what we are now.

That or they fancied sight seeing recently freed bosoms returned to the wild.

Note to Self: Only the blessed, or those whom have chosen to enhance upon Mother Nature’s gift do not need scaffolding to stop them clinging to your knees.