Losing It

My mad, crazy journey to health and beyond

Say cheese!

So after getting all heavy the other day, I thought it was time to lighten things up a bit. Plus it’s Friday so it’s almost mandatory that we have some fun.

With that in mind, here are some fabulicious ‘then and now’ pics for you to look at and marvel over. Feel free to tell me how amazing I am, and also feel free to send the link to this post onto George Clooney. I heard he was asking about me.

Now, on with the show!


Sittin’ around, shooting the breeze


June 2013/October 2013

June 2013/October 2013


Standing tall


June 2013/January 2014

June 2013/January 2014


Out on the town


January 2013/January 2014

January 2013/January 2014


Training like a champ


September 2013/January 2014

September 2013/January 2014


Just chillin’


June 2013/January 2014

June 2013/January 2014


And last but not least:

Demonstrating the effect of 100 burpees on a human female.


Let's do this!/Shoot. Me. Now.

Let’s do this!/Shoot. Me. Now.


Happy Friday everyone! xx


Hi I’m Nicola and I’m a food addict

As you should know by now, I am an avid follower of The Biggest Loser. Love that shit! But while I’m waiting for some kind soul to upload Season 15, episode 14 onto YouTube, I’ve been watching another similar kind of programme – Extreme Makeover Weight Loss Edition.


Extreme Makeover


It’s the same sort of thing as the Biggest Loser, except here they take one severely overweight person (as in over 500lbs) and make them work with a trainer over the course of a year to lose a shit-ton of weight – all culminating in a jaw-dropping reveal at the end. Yes of course it’s all made for TV and ratings, and I’m not sure if losing 250lbs or more in a year is safe or healthy, but I’m still able to engage and connect with it, and take things away to use along my own journey.

And the most meaningful episode I’ve seen so far was the one with Wally. I don’t remember exactly how much he weighed, but it was up there in either the high 400lbs or over 500lbs. He had a wife and small child, and had all but given up the fight against food addiction and morbid obesity.

So the TV trainer took Wally on, worked him out, gave him nutritional advice and motivation, and helped him lose over 100lbs in the first 3 months. Well done Wally! But then the trainer left Wally to continue his journey on his own, and things started to go downhill. Wally put up a good fight in the beginning, but eventually started returning to drivethrus and takeaways, until at the end of 6 months, the trainer returned to find that instead of losing another 70lbs, Wally had only lost 25lbs – not enough to meet the target he’d been set.

The trainer had some choice words for him, including ‘liar’, ‘betrayal’, ‘shame’, and a whole host of other things. Reluctantly he agreed to keep helping Wally, and gave him another target for the next 3 months. And that’s when the shit storm hit. Wally cut off all contact with the trainer altogether, until one night he sent an email that was part cry for help, part suicide note. The trainer took the first flight to his house, to find that Wally had gained almost all his weight back, and despite having had all his money and credit cards taken away from him, was still finding ways to sneak food, binge, and eat on the sly. His wife was in tears, the trainer was at his wit’s end, and Wally was made to admit to the world that he was in fact, a food addict.

Sadly, this episode did not end with a sparkling transformation, but instead with the trainer taking Wally to rehab, and leaving him there, desolate and alone.

It was a very hard episode to watch, and it was one that took me back to when I was in the same space as Wally. Because like him, I too am a food addict. Yes, I’m in recovery right now, but the fact remains: I am, and always will be, addicted to food.


Food addiction


That’s why I identified with Wally. I know exactly what it feels like to sit there and eat and eat and eat past the point of fullness, because as soon as you stop eating you start feeling. I know what it’s like to eat one lunch in front of your friends, then go to McDonald’s afterwards and have four more lunches on your own. I know what it’s like to live in debt with three maxed out credit cards because ordering Mr Delivery every night is cripplingly expensive. And I know what it’s like to lie in bed at night, alone in the 3am blackness, praying that you never wake up again so the pain can just STOP.

I don’t know what it’s like being addicted to drugs or alcohol, but I can tell you that when you’re addicted to food, your life becomes one filled with furtiveness and shame. Your entire day becomes an exercise in hiding – throwing takeaway boxes away before anyone sees, leaving parties early so you can have a second dinner without anyone knowing, stuffing your face while you’re driving away from the takeout joint so your friends don’t see how much you actually bought for yourself… and then making sure to never, ever look at yourself in the mirror, because then you’ll actually have to face up to what you’ve become – a full-blown addict.

People often sat around the coffee table at work saying, ‘ooh I had such a binge last night – I had a whole chocolate and a packet of crisps’. And I wanted to laugh and cry a little all at the same time. Because a binge for me wasn’t a pathetic Tempo and a packet of Lays. It was one of those family variety packs at KFC, all for myself. Or a large pizza plus a large pasta followed by chocolate brownies and ice cream. Or my favourite – 6 chicken and beef samoosas, two chicken vindaloos with rice and nine cream cakes. NINE. With all that stuffed into me on a daily basis, you start to see why the three credit cards were necessary.




So what’s the big deal then – why can’t you just stop? It’s easy – just stop shoving shit into your mouth. Hahahahaha. Yes, sure, it’s that easy.

The awesome thing about food addiction is that unlike when recovering from alcohol and drug abuse, you can’t go cold turkey. You need to eat to live. And that’s where the problem comes in. You wouldn’t tell an alcoholic, ‘go chug three to six drinks a day, that’s fine’. Or to a drug user, ‘sure, smack that bitch up six times a day, it’s all good!’. But if you’re a food addict, you’re expected to have your drug of choice three to six times a day, and yet still be able to keep your cravings under control? Not a fuck.

Because a craving it is, let me tell you. At times I almost felt as if I was possessed – that some demon had taken over and I was a prisoner in my own body, powerless to escape its control. I would often watch myself as if from above, shoving things into my face, unable to stop and unable to stop myself. Because the power of food addiction is an all-consuming, inexorable force.




And just as much as it’s a force, it’s pure bliss as well. While you’re eating nothing matters – not that you’re bored, lonely, weak, tired, sad, nothing. You’re the king of the world. Until you stop eating. And then you have to look around at your bleak, sad life, littered with takeaway boxes and regret. It’s too much, and too depressing to take in, so you start right back up again with the eating. Because as long as you’re filling your face with food, you don’t have to focus on anything else.

Occasionally the dim realisation that you are killing yourself one Big Mac at a time floats into your conscious mind, and you make the vague effort to get up and do something. But by that time you are so full of bad carbs and unhealthy fats that you cannot get off the couch. I tried it many times, believe me. But you are so weighed down by food and failure that it literally feels as if the steel bands of addiction are pinning you to the couch in an unbreakable iron grip. And so you fall back into the comforting depths of your food palace, look at the delivery menu and pick up the phone. And the cycle continues.

So yes, I understood Wally, I identified with Wally, and I cried with Wally. But at the same time I felt an overpowering sense of relief. Because I’m not where he is anymore. I’ve managed to get off the couch, I’ve managed to wrest back control of my body from the food demons, and I’ve managed to make a life for myself that isn’t defined by food. I’m sad for Wally but I’m proud of myself, because it is without a doubt the absolute hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life. And I did it.

Spoiler alert: yes, I will relapse at some point and look for solace in the bottom of a takeaway bag rather than my friends, family or support structures. Because I’m an addict, and that’s what we do. But those periods in my life are becoming shorter, and fewer and less necessary. What is necessary for me is to remember what lies beyond my couch – a world full of possibilities that I’m finally able to get up and embrace, free from the clawing, hungry grasp of my addiction. Food now feeds my body, not my soul, and that’s the way it should be. Wally, wherever you are, I hope that life is helping you learn the same thing.


Weigh-in Day 28.01.14

1.7kg UP since last week. Fuck my life.

1.7kg UP since last week. Fuck my life.


It is a truth universally acknowledged that whenever we make plans, God sits back and has himself a good old laugh. Case in point: this week I was supposed to lose 1.3kg so that I could make my weight loss total a nice, round, impressive 30kg. Instead, I ended up gaining 1.7 freaking kilograms instead. It’s at this point in the movie that the main character sinks to their knees, stares up at the sky and cries out ‘WHY GOD, WHY?!!!’.

Why indeed? Let’s take a look.



I kicked ass in training. Nothing to see here.



I did not kick as much ass here. Instead of getting more sleep as I promised I would, I ended up getting less, sometimes just 5 hours before having to wake up and train. This is mainly due to the fact that I have picked up a terrible habit of watching QI on my laptop in bed, long past lights out time. I MUST stop doing this. Stephen Fry may be quite interesting, but he isn’t going to do jack to help me lose weight.



Ahem. We may have found the culprit. As much as it pains me to say it, my highly intelligent and very well-thought out 12 Days of Drinking plan was not quite as intelligent and well-thought out as I had hoped. I unfortunately forgot to take into account one very important factor. Myself. Which is why this weekend, when faced with the choice of drinking sparkling water versus drinking wine, I sadly went for the wine option. The voice in my head was just too loud to ignore.

As this incident goes to show, I am not some type of weight-loss robot sent here from the future by Skynet – I am in fact human, and prone to making mistakes.


Pictured: mistake.

Pictured: mistake.


Although in my defence, aside from that one little indiscretion, the rest of my nutrition was spot on. So I really feel that gaining 1.7kg from that is a tad harsh. Sucks to be me right now.

However, taking all the past week’s learnings into account, I can come out of it with three things:

1. Dammit, I seriously need to STOP DRINKING!

2. Thanks to a visit to the doctor, it seems that my blood pressure is a wonderfully normal 120/80 – so if I keep it up, I might be able to come off the rest of my meds in April. Whoop whoop!

3. My toenails look freaking fabulous! Here, take a closer look:




This is because the highly wonderful Rouge Day Spa down the road from me in Kenilworth has most generously offered to take care of my tootsies while I’m taking care of my weight loss. So even when the scale is a ferocious beast to me (like today) I still have something to be excited about when I look down.


Orly Pink Pixel. Shades of glittery excitement!

Orly Pink Pixel. Shades of glittery excitement!


So yes, from now on weigh-in days are going to be a lot fancier. And because I’m going to move on from this week and get back to crushing it, they’re going to be a lot more successful too.

In the past I would have let something like this defeat me, and use it as an excuse to bury myself neck deep in KFC. Because if the right stuff isn’t working, then who cares what the wrong stuff does. But not this time. Because honestly, if life thinks that a minor blip on the scale is enough to set me back, then it’s sadly mistaken. This next week better watch out, because I’m coming for it with everything I’ve got. I almost feel sorry for it. Almost.


Never give up


I am running a crack den out of my kitchen

Ok no, not really. But I might as well be, what with all the exotic pills and powders that have started taking over the place.

I mean just look at this.


Pictured: BCAAs, whey protein, dextrose, omega 3 fish oil, magnesium, zinc, Vitamin D, Meta I-3-C,  and a partridge in a pear tree.

Pictured: BCAAs, whey protein, dextrose, omega 3 fish oil, magnesium, zinc, Vitamin D, Meta I-3-C,
and a partridge in a pear tree.


My kitchen counter used to be covered in bottles of wine and takeaway boxes – now I have so many supplements and sports nutrition products that I could open my own Dischem. (Note to self: open own Dischem.)

How times have changed. This time last year I got all excited when Mr Delivery knocked on my door. Now when my latest tub of whey protein arrives it’s like Christmas up in here.


SSN. This stuff is the shit.

SSN. This stuff is the shit.


Of course it wasn’t an easy transition to make. When I was told I had to start taking whey protein and the like, I immediately thought, ‘oh lord no, that means I have to go to the GUY AISLE’. You know, the one manned by an intimidating giant of a person, full of tubs screaming incomprehensible things like L-GLUTAMINE, CREATINE and YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE WOMAN!

But my first experience with the guy aisle and the giant man was surprisingly painless. I told him what I wanted, he made some helpful suggestions (none of which involved telling me to bugger off and go to the glitter aisle instead) and I’ve been chugging the stuff down ever since.


This chocolate whey is seriously sometimes the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning.

This chocolate whey is seriously sometimes the only thing that gets me out of bed in the morning.


Do I know what all this stuff does for me? Not 100%, but what I do know is that I feel a lot healthier and have way more energy. Whether that’s down to the clean eating and exercise alone, I have no idea. I try not to overthink things. I know that I have no clue what I’m doing, which is why I pay very clever people to tell me what to do instead. So if they tell me to drink this and take that, that’s what I’m going to do. (I’ve tried to get them to tell me to down tequila shooters every Friday but no luck so far. Will keep you posted.)

And yes, it’s expensive. My latest whey delivery set me back over R500. But then compare that to an evening out at Banana Jam where I used to drop R700 on a bill with NO FOOD, and it all evens out in the end.

So yes, my kitchen may now be filled with weird and wonderful things, but I’m very proud of my little supplement corner. It’s a tangible reminder of the many changes I’ve made in my life, all of them for the better. So bottoms up!




Weight training – it’s not for pussies

I am a girly girl. I like to look nice, wear makeup and paint my nails. If it’s pink, I want it. If it’s a handbag, I crave it. And if it dissolves in the bath I’ll buy it faster than you can say ‘Body Shop’.

Unfortunately for me, weight training isn’t soft or sparkly or bedazzled. It is bumps and bruises and broken nails and carpet burns. Not the interesting kind either.

Yes, it burns fat, builds muscle and turns you into a lifting badass. But it turns you into someone else as well.


1. The Girl Who Has To Wear Bandages On Her Hands

Why do I have to wear bandages on my hands? This is why.


Torn callouses. Eina!

Torn callouses. Eina!


Oh you couldn’t see that properly? Let’s go in for a closer look.





That is what comes from doing 400 kettlebell swings with questionable form and zero care and attention paid to your callouses. It was exceptionally fucking sore, and an experience I have no intention of repeating. Which is why I have now become:


2. The Girl Who Shaves Her Hands

Just typing that sentence made me lose about 100 attractiveness points. Between this and everyone having seen me in my underwear after Winter Warrior last year, I’ll be lucky if I can get laid again sometime this century.

Sorry, why do I have to shave my hands? Because picking up heavy shit on a regular basis will leave them looking like this:


So pretty!

So pretty!


Which means that to stop the dry skin from eventually tearing off (see excruciatingly painful pic above), you have to use a special razor, or sandpaper, or nail file to shave those buggers down. And I’m sorry, but it doesn’t matter how much blimming moisturizing cream you slather on, it still looks like you soak your hands in battery acid. Which means that you eventually become:


3. The Girl Who Can Never Shake Hands With Anyone Again, Ever

Callouses, shaved hands, ripped skin – how much worse can it get? Allow me to demonstrate:





Yes, that is a blister. On my HAND! I’ve had blisters on my heels before (life’s way of laughing at me for trying to run) but by Zeus’s beard I’ve never EVER had a freaking blister on my hand. I didn’t even know that was possible. That’s what you get for bear crawling across the gym floor from 6am TILL INFINITY.

Blisters. On your hands. Because life thought you needed more of a challenge.

However, put all these three girls together and you get:


4. The Girl Who Is Stronger, Fitter, Thinner and Healthier

Because no matter how many nails you break or callouses you rip or pieces of sandpaper you go through, lifting is the shit. It has given me gains in muscle, losses on the scale, and a sense of pride and personal achievement. So it doesn’t matter that I have the hands of a lumberjack, because each of those callouses tells a success story that continues with every weight I pick up. And that’s way more valuable to me than soft hands.




Weigh-in Day 21.01.14

Ch-ch-check it out y’all! Another 1.1kg down. Can I get a hell yeah?!

Ch-ch-check it out y’all! Another 1.1kg down. Can I get a hell yeah?!

So ja, things are going well then! I must admit, I wasn’t expecting much of a loss this week, so to see another 1.1kg fly off is fabulous. My body tends to lose, then stay the same, then sometimes gain for no reason, just to irritate me. So to see consistent weight loss is just awesome.

I totally deserved it though, despite the tricks my mind was playing on me. I was at the gym at 6am every morning, working it like a muthafucka. I also played around with my eating a bit – I usually snack on biltong between meals but holy crap is that stuff expensive. So on the advice of my nutritionist I started making my meals bigger so that I wouldn’t need to snack. I already eat enough to give Paul Bunyan a heart attack, so eating more was a bit of an ask but I managed it. I’ve gotten breakfast right so far, but I’m still peckish in the afternoons a bit, so I need to work on making my lunches bigger. And then changing into stretchy pants so I can breathe afterwards.

The highlight of the week was carb night (as usual), but this one was a little different, with B.B.Ques awesomeness like empanadas and twice-fried chicken with mash. Because when you work your ass off in the gym, you deserve some twice-fried chicken with mash.



And twice-fried chicken. With mash.

And twice-fried chicken. With mash.

There were a few evil temptresses that attempted to sway me from my purpose (wine, tequila, high tea at the Nellie) but I stood strong! I prevailed! And I sobbed quietly to myself all the way through!

(18 days to my next sanctioned drink-a-thon. Not like I’m counting or anything.)

As for my fitness goals, I’m getting there slowly but surely. I managed a personal best of 80kg when deadlifting this morning (whoop whoop). So I can now pick up heavier friends when they pass out drunk (although I may have to grip them in dodgy places). Negative pushups are still flipping sore, but they’ll get better. And I’m going for my next parkrun (I mean parkwalk) on Saturday. Not exactly crushing that one yet, but hey, it’s only January. There’s no rush.

Fit Girl Fab knows what I mean.

Fit Girl Fab knows what I mean.

But what I am in a rush to get to is DOUBLE DIGITS! Man those things are taunting me. Just 5.8kg to go and then no more three giant numbers staring back at me on the scale. Just two skinny ones welcoming me with open arms.

So please allow me to take my leave of you for now. I’ve gotta go see a man about some double digits.

No Pain

Sneak fabulousness preview: Keep an eye out for my next progress report. Weigh-in days are soon to become a lot fancier!


Rise and shine – it’s training time!

Getting up at 5am every morning sucks balls. Just because I don’t like sleeping doesn’t mean I spring out of bed as soon as the alarm goes off and burst into song like a Disney princess. Oh no, when that Forest Walk melody starts burbling at way-too-freaking-early AM, I would happily sell my left kidney for an extra 10 minutes in bed.


The number you have dialled is not available.  Please try again later.

The number you have dialled is not available.
Please try again later.


But since the organ harvesters are tucked up in their own beds at 5am, I have to come up with some pretty creative ways of getting myself out of bed before the birds are even up. Sometimes I resort to pleading, sometimes to bribery, and sometimes to good old-fashioned yelling.


Presenting: A Week in the Life of Nicola



Inner Voice 1: Wakey wakey it’s Monday, how exciting.

Inner Voice 2: Shut up and go back to sleep.

IV1: But we only have to work out for 20 minutes today – just 20 minutes! Then we can come back, shower, chill and have breakfast. Super relaxing!

IV2: Just 20 minutes?

IV1: Yup, promise!

IV2: Ok fine, let’s get this show on the road.

IV1: Hurrah!



IV1: You know what day it is today?

IV2: My birthday?

IV1: No silly, haha. It’s weigh-in day today. Whoop whoop!

IV2: Not always necessarily a good thing.

IV1: Yes but no shush. Come on, get up, let’s go train and then you can see just how brilliantly all your hard work has paid off.

IV2: Arg! Alright fine, I’m coming.

IV1: Wait, did you paint your toenails for the picture?

IV2: Fuck.



IV1: It’s 5am! Time to get up!

IV2: Blerag’iaweg aigh ijs;fbn

IV1: Come on – who’s a good girl? Who’s a good girl?

IV2: Me?

IV1: That’s right – and good girls deserve a nice big cup of coffee. Come on, let’s get up and go get you some coffee.

IV2: Gknfa’eigj aoief;as rg



IV1: Woohoo, it’s conditioning training today, super amped!

IV2: I am going to smack you.

IV1: No it’s going to be awesome, you’ll see. Plus the sooner you work out, the sooner you get to drink your yummy post-workout chocolate whey. Mmmmm!

IV2: I remember chocolate. I have fond memories of chocolate.

IV1: Well get up, let’s go train, and then we can have some. Yippee!

IV2: It’s really not natural for you to be this chipper so early in the morning. Do I need to get you professional help?


IV2: I’ll make the appointment today.



IV1: Hey hey it’s Friday!


IV1: Aah come on, don’t be like that! It’s Friday, end of the week, and end of your training too. Just today to get through and then you have two blissful days of rest ahead. How does that sound?

IV2: It sounds lovely for you. I, however, am going back to sleep.

IV1: No you can’t go back to sleep! George Clooney’s in the kitchen!

IV2: No he is not.

IV1: No, seriously, I’m totally telling the truth. I heard him sneak in last night, and now he’s waiting for you there as a surprise! You have to get up now and go see!

IV2: This feels like a trap.

IV1: Come on now, would I lie to you?

IV2: Yes.

IV1: Arg, I’m not lying! Just get up now, go to the kitchen and give Georgie a big hug and a kiss. So romantic!

IV2: Ok fine, I’ll get up. But I still think you’re lying.

IV2: What the fu-?! I thought you said George Clooney was here?!

IV1: You took too long. He got bored and left. Oh well since we’re here now we might as well make coffee and get ready for training.



Times that by infinity and you have my life. I’ll get better at getting up, but for now pleading and bribery are my methods of choice. Plus who knows – one day I could walk through to my kitchen and George Clooney could totally be waiting for me. I’ll just have to keep checking to see.


Where have you been all my life dear sweet Nicola?

Rise and shine baby. 


You know it’s hard out here for a pimp

So I’m a little bit pissed off today, I gotta say. You’d think that once you started on a healthy eating and living plan then the stinging little comments would stop. But no, they just keep right on trucking, to my eternal disbelief, amusement and more than a little annoyance.

“Wow you eat a lot”

“You exercise way too much”

“You’re obsessed”

“You’re so boring when you don’t drink”

“Oh of course you’re losing weight, it’s so easy for you”




The last one pisses me off more than anything. No, it is NOT easy for me. Not in the slightest. It is very, extremely, massively FUCKING HARD.

It is hard:

  • Saying no to all the cookies and cakes and cupcakes that come out at work whenever someone has a birthday.
  • Staying in almost every weekday night.
  • Missing all my TV programmes so that I’m in bed by 9pm to get enough sleep.
  • Waking up at 5am every weekday morning to train.
  • Pushing, pushing, pushing myself at the gym even when I feel like dying.
  • Not piling my plate with potatoes and pasta and rice and bread at every meal.
  • Not knowing what those two new Magnum flavours taste like.
  • Having a war with myself every day when my dark side wants to go to the pub and get hammered. EVERY DAY.
  • Coming home from work and cooking all my meals for the next day.
  • Going to parties and drinking sparkling water. And then having to have ten-minute long conversations about why I’m drinking sparkling water.
  • Staying in on sunny afternoons when I KNOW all my friends are at the pub.
  • Not being able to order McDonald’s, Steers and KFC on a daily basis.
  • Not being able to drink wine when I go out for dinner.
  • Staring at three numbers on the scale every time I step on.
  • Realising that even though I’ve lost a bunch of weight already, I still have over 40 KILOS to go and the thought of all the work that’s going to take is JUST SO EXHAUSTING.

This weight isn’t sliding off by itself you know. I don’t just lounge around all week giving myself pedicures so that my feet look nice in my scale pics. I work exceptionally hard every minute in between weigh-in days, and that’s why the numbers on the scale go down.


Motivation 8


Yes, I eat a lot because that’s what my body needs. No, I don’t overtrain, because if I did, my PT would sure as hell let me know. I’m not obsessed, I’m focused. I know for a fact that I’m a fun, funny, sparkly person to be around, with or without alcohol (although maybe not at this precise moment). And no, losing weight is not easy for me.

This isn’t meant to be a stinging indictment of people with no filter between their mouths and their brains. What this is meant to be is a message to those who, like me, have a shit-ton of weight to lose. It is NOT easy. If you’ve ever read my blog and thought to yourself, “oh gosh it’s so easy for her”, please rest assured, it’s not. I face the same temptations, demons and triggers you do, all day, every day. But I don’t always post about it, because if I did you’d be getting email notifications every 5 seconds saying “BEER, CAKE, TEQUILA, KFC NOOOOOWWWW!!!”

But while it may not be easy, it can be done, whether you have 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, or (like me) 60kg to lose. And I know this, because while it is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, I’m doing it. I’m no superwoman – I’m just an ordinary woman tired of sacrificing her health and well-being for the fleeting pleasure of beer and pizza. So now I sacrifice things that nearly killed me for things that feed my soul. And you just have to look at these pics to see what a world of good it’s doing me:


New Year's Day 2013. Hungover as fuck from wine, champagne, gin and a shitload of tequila.

New Year’s Day 2013. Hungover as fuck from wine, champagne, gin and a  shitload of tequila.


New Year's Day 2014. High on life from an early-morning hike.

New Year’s Day 2014. High on life from an early-morning hike.


So to all the sad losers out there: the next time you feel the need to try and bring me down, criticise the way I do things, or minimise the amount of effort I put into achieving my results, I’m going to let it go in one ear and out the other. Because what I’m doing is working. What the hell are you doing?


The weird and wonderful world of search terms

This completely cracked me up. I was analysing my blog stats (mostly to see if George Clooney had made an appearance yet) and I found a list of all the search terms that people have used when stumbling upon my blog. Some are pretty reasonable – “losing weight” or “Olympic lifts”. But some are so completely whacked out batshit-crazy that I worry about the people who typed them in. Clearly they were searching for a posting on Craigslist and found me instead. So I thought I’d have a little fun with the results.




I was bored of your lies

Well I was bored of you so we’re even.


I tell you all my secrets but I lie about my past

Hang on, didn’t we go out like 5 years ago?


Will a candy bar before bed give me diabetes

Yes, yes it will.


Channing Tatum and his baby

Here? I wish!


Results of back squats on women

A tight ass and awesomeness.  


Can you lift that bitch please

Who are you calling a bitch? And yes I can.


I miss you when you sleep

No, I am not putting the lotion on my skin.


Lose weight by not eating and drinking wine at night

That’s not a weight loss plan hon, that’s AA.


Absolutely in love with him

Ah nunu.


Bitches be like I don’t give head

Maybe that’s because you call them “bitches”.


Can you still lose weight drinking three beers a day

No, no you can’t.


Keep calm suck

Good advice but you forgot “no teeth”.


Facepalm 2



I think I need to stay away from the stats for a while. And perhaps rethink my stance on drinking.


Weigh-in Day 14.01.14

1.1kg down since last week. The scale is my bitch.

1.1kg down since last week. The scale is my bitch.


I am such a freaking nana. Last week I got all excited because I had lost 27.5kg so far. It turns out my maths is terrible. When I used a calculator it turns out I had actually lost 26.5kg. I’m a genius, not a mathematician.

Thankfully my body came to my mind’s rescue and pulled out a 1.1kg loss over the past week – what a trooper! So now I’m not a liar anymore – what I am is 27.6kg down since 1 July. Can I get a whaat whaat!

I was expecting a loss though as I worked my ass off this past week – and I even went full Goody Two-Shoes and skipped alcohol and dessert at Madame Zingara on Friday. So this loss is my reward. Makes a change from the last time I went to Zingara – my friend and I stayed so late drinking that they switched all the lights off and asked us to leave. Blind.

So ja – this week it’ll be more of the same: more eating well and kicking ass in the gym. I’ve got a pitfall looming on Saturday (High Tea at the Mount Nelson, eek!) but if I can do Zingara sober I can do anything.

Tune in this time next week people – hopefully to help me celebrate yet another loss, and yet another step towards double digits. Look out 90s – I’m gaining on you!


Scale motivation