Losing It

My mad, crazy journey to health and beyond

100 Days of Sobriety – The Week 2 Recap

Can you believe it’s been two weeks already? Well, 15 days to be precise. In some ways it’s flown by; in others it’s been a soul-destroying hold-onto-my-sanity-by-the-skin-of-my-teeth kind of time.

Have a look and see what I mean:



Went to movies. Was reminded of how fabulous James McAvoy is. Then remembered he was married. Boo. Drove home mid-afternoon on a gorgeous sunny Cape Town winter’s day, past an open Banana Jam full of revelers, cocktails and fabulousness. Steeled myself not to call anyone up for some Sunday drinking (my favourite thing) and instead went home and watched a bunch of Friends episodes back to back, all the while reminding myself, “I love this show, I love this show”. Ended off by watching Wanted, because James McAvoy.

Difficulty rating: 7 out of 10



I don’t remember much about Monday, which means that it probably wasn’t too stressful a day. I remember that I ended the day with pork chops, mashed potato, Royal Pains and The Good Wife. I counted The Good Wife as dessert as I’ve wanted to climb Josh Charles like a tree, ever since I saw Dead Poets Society. Oh Captain, my Captain indeed.

Difficulty rating: 2 out of 10



Pub quiz. My stay-off-the-sauce nemesis. Luckily my pub quiz team is very supportive of my efforts not to drink.


As you can see.

As you can see.


Instead of launching myself at the wine list I challenged myself to see how much sparkling water I could consume in 2.5 hours. Answer: a lot.


PIctured: a lot.

Pictured: a lot.


At least we placed in the quiz, which was something (3rd place with no bonus round as we came 1st the last time. High five for awesomeness!). And because fate is not without a sense of irony, I won a bottle of wine. Gigantic internal eyeroll.

Difficulty rating: 5 out of 10.



Again, I don’t really remember much about the day, other than the fact that early morning bear crawls almost sucked the will to live right out of me. After hobbling around like a little old lady all day, I went home to a bowl of spaghetti and homemade chicken meatballs, and a feature presentation of Bring It On. I needed a bit of a cheer section.


These meatballs were so awesome they deserved a cheer section of their own.

These meatballs were so awesome they deserved a cheer section of their own.



FUUUUUCCKKKMYYYYYYLIIIIIIIFFFEEEEEE!!!!!!! So far it appears that at least one day a week I have a complete mental breakdown, and Thursday was that day. The stress factor was turned up to 11, and only the intervention of the Sleek Girls got me through a thoroughly shitty day from start to finish. How I managed to get home without making a 6-hour pit stop at Home Bar, I’ll never know. Divine intervention and the collective goodwill of 2000 fabulous ladies may have had something to do with it.

Difficulty rating: 10 out of 10



Started off by lifting some very heavy shit (4 x 5 deadlifts @ 70kg), worked like a Trojan (warrior, not condom), then dragged my sorry ass home to collapse on the couch in front of Once Upon A Time. Once upon a time I used to party on Friday nights. Now I sit in front of my TV with all the enthusiasm of a slab of meat. If this is what getting older is, I’d like my money back please.

Difficulty rating: 3 out of 10



Green Point parkrun, woohoo! Breakfast with the Sleeks, woohoo! Running a bunch of errands, including getting my blood pressure taken and finding out it was 120/85 without having taken my pill yet, WOOHOO! Work all afternoon, meh. Go for dinner with one of my best friends, woohoo! Then go for drinks afterwards, woohoo! Then go for even more drinks after that, woohoo! And get home at 1am after having painted the town red without a drop of alcohol in me. WOOOOHOOOO!


See I told you – no alcohol!

See I told you – no alcohol!


Difficulty rating: 4 out of 10



Up early for a course. Back home mid-afternoon. Felt wistful about the fact that I couldn’t do any Sunday afternoon drinking on such a gorgeous day. Watched Friends all afternoon. Reminded myself that I love the show. Very much. And that it’s not worth losing over an afternoon/evening of craft beers and tequila. I guess. FML

Difficulty rating: 5 out of 10


So yeah, that was my week – some ups, some downs, but with the help of real friends and TV Friends, I got through it unscathed.


15 days down, 85 to go! 

15 days down, 85 to go!


Here’s to getting through Week 3, kicking more ass and taking more name! (Especially more single guys’ names – if you know of any, feel free to use the comments section as your personal address book.)



Driving Miss Crazy

Screen Shot 2014-06-27 at 12.25.11 PM


This non-drinking thing. Not as easy as it looks. Keeping myself away from the sauce is a constant mental battle that involves screaming, shouting, pleading, crying, begging, and most often a very loud voice that plays “NOOOO NICOLAAAAAAA YOU WILL NOT GOOOO TOOOO THE PUUUUB!!!!!” on a constant loop, 24/7. (The voice sounds a lot like Gandalf’s, interestingly enough.)

Even the simplest things become fraught with peril as I try to go against what has unfortunately become my natural instinct (getting hammered, in case you were wondering). Take the drive home from work for example:


5pm. Cape Town Foreshore.

Good Nicola (GN): Blarg, here we are again, tramping our way back to the car underneath the elevated freeway like some sort of modern-day troll.

Bad Nicola (BN): You know what’s really close to the elevated freeway? Pepenero in Mouille Point. I’m sure that if we called Alex, she’d meet us there for drinks!


BN: Sulk.

Thirty minutes later. Heavy rush hour traffic. Impending aneurysm.

GN: It seriously cannot take this long to travel 15km. I am DYING HERE.

BN: Ooh, look, there’s the exit to Obs. I’m sure if we called Matthew, he’d meet us at Desperado’s for drinks!


BN: Sulk.

Twenty minutes later. Heavy rush hour traffic. Imminent stroke.

GN: Fuck. My. Life.

BN: Ooh, look, there’s Rascal’s. I’m sure if we called Chanti, she’d meet us there for drinks!


BN: Sulk.

Five minutes later. Heavy rush hour traffic. Near-death state.

GN: Fngggharrhag&*!

BN: Ooh, look, if you turn right here you can be at Banana Jam in two minutes flat. I’m sure if we called Tee, she’d meet us there for drinks!


BN: Ok so not Banana Jam. But if you drive on past, you can be at Home Bar in five minutes. You know so many people there, you won’t even need to call anyone to join you!


GN and BN: SULK!!!

Five minutes later. Home at last, home at last, thank God almighty, we are home at last!

GN: Yay, we’re finally home. You know what we get to do now?

BN: Ooh, no, what?

GN: Cook all our meals for tomorrow.

BN: Get fucked.


And that, ladies and gentlemen, is my drive home. Every. Single. Day. Three cheers to Cape Town traffic and unrelenting mental trauma. 12 days down, 88 to go.


Because beerquila.

Because beerquila.



Weigh-in Day 24.06.14

If you can cast your mind back that far, you’ll remember that last week’s weigh-in was a glorious pile of crap:




This week, however, was a glorious pile of unicorn tears and rainbows:




If you need a little help with the maths, I’ll break it down for you. That’s a loss of 6.2kg in seven days. Seven days! Like The Ring, but with a far less horrifying outcome. I guess that’s what eating right, training right and not drinking a drop of alcohol will do for you.


It had to be done.

It had to be done.


Obviously most of that loss is water retention – I’m not some crazy weight loss robot sent back from the future to plunge all dieters into the depths of despair. I’m just someone who ate a lot of shit before weighing in. But I must say that seeing 112 on the scale is WAAAAY more motivating than seeing OMFG 118.

Which is why the next week will see me ploughing on, following exactly the same plan I did this week, and continuing to ban myself from all public houses and other alcohol-serving establishments. Harfield Village’s GDP is going down and so is my waistline!


It had to be done again.

It had to be done again.


Thanks to everyone who kept me going this week, and thanks to the cast of Friends as well. Could my weight loss BE any more badass?


100 Days of Sobriety – The Week 1 Recap

So as of writing this today, I have been stone cold sober for 8 whole days. Is there like an AA pin or something I can get for that?


Screen Shot 2014-06-23 at 11.23.49 AM


In some ways it’s been easier than I thought, and in some ways it’s been a lot tougher than I thought. But I’m one week down, and apparently the first week is the hardest, so go me.

How hard was it? See for yourself…



OMG I am so tired I want to die. I wouldn’t even have a drink right now if you paid me. Bring on the processed carbs! <collapses onto couch for the better part of 20 hours>

Difficulty rating: 2 out of 10



Public holiday, whoop whoop! Let’s go fill the fridge with healthy food – we so got this! Ready to crush my training session tomorrow. Drinking – what’s that?

Difficulty rating: 2 out of 10



OMG I want to die. Remind me never to fall off the training wagon again. All I’ve done is warm up and I’m sweating like a farm animal. Oh and look, the scale is telling me that I’ve gained about a zillion kgs. FABULOUS! Blarg but it’s ok, doing this will make me lose the weight, it’s ok. Don’t think about drinks, don’t think about drinks…

Difficulty rating: 3 out of 10



FUUUUUUCK MYYYYYYY LIIIIIIIIIIFE! I know it’s only 8am, but I feel like ramming 6 chocolate bars in my mouth, killing time until 12pm and then heading for the nearest watering hole. Call someone, call someone!! Ok, call many people! Stop thinking about drinks, the day will get better.


Oh look, the day decided instead of getting better, to take a huge, giant steaming dump on my head. If this was a movie, I would actually be laughing – there is no way one person could be expected to deal with this much stress. Work, life, family, it’s actually getting ridiculous. Don’t cry, don’t think about drinks, let’s call some more people!

<even later>

You love Friends, you love Friends, remember how much you love Friends!

<and later after that>

Do not go to the pub after work, do not go to the pub after work. Let’s go home, we can get some sushi, chillax and watch some tv. Oh, and let’s call some more people.

<and even later after that>

My life sucks, but sushi rocks. Thank heavens for small mercies.




Difficulty rating: Fucking 12 out of 10



Ok, yesterday’s drama is over and done with – today is going to be a fabulous day, simply because I’ve decided it’s going to be a fabulous day. Bring it on!

Verdict: Fabulous day

Difficulty rating: 2 out of 10



Pub quiz tonight. My favourite part about pub quiz, apart from kicking trivia ass, is marinating in wine while I rattle off answers to questions like, ‘what’s the capital of Azerbaijan’ (Baku, in case you’re interested). It’s just not going to be the same.


<incoherent sound of longing> Everyone’s drinking wine. Sad face 😦

Ok, I’m pushing through this. Maybe it’s not so bad. Two bottles of sparkling water, a cup of coffee and no worries about driving home. Team Nicola has got this one in the bag.


Visual proof of my liquid intake. Oh and look at that, we won the pub quiz too. Vive Les Gauls!

Visual proof of my liquid intake. Oh and look at that, we won the pub quiz too. Vive Les Gauls!


Difficulty rating: 5 out of 10



Good thing I didn’t drink last night otherwise shooting my SleekGeek nomination video would have been a bitch and a half.


Ditto for walking around Cavendish shopping all afternoon.

<much later>

Feels a little weird to be going out for dinner and not ordering wine, but I actually have zero desire to drink tonight. Which feels a little weirder.


Move along, no alcohol to see here!

Move along, no alcohol to see here!


<much much later>

Nightcap time and still no alcohol.


Just coffee, see!

Just coffee, see!


In all honesty I’d like an Irish coffee for the road, but I’ll settle for plain decaf. The staff at Banana Jam are slightly shellshocked. The waitress asked if I was absolutely sure I just wanted coffee, and the manager threatened to ban me if I came in and ordered coffee again. Note to self: if the wait staff are genuinely shocked by you ordering a non-alcoholic beverage, 100 days of sobriety are probably long overdue. Home Jeeves, and don’t spare the horses!

Difficulty rating: 4 out of 10.


So now that week 1 is done and dusted, what have I learned?

  • I can do this!
  • Friends are absolutely invaluable as a support system
  • Friends who are happy to not drink are also invaluable as a support system


See what I mean?

See what I mean?


  • It is possible to do pub quiz without getting drunk
  • It is possible to go out to dinner without getting drunk
  • It is possible to endure a day of OHMYFUCKSTRESS without getting drunk
  • And it is possible to see dramatic physical changes in just 7 short days of not drinking:


Day 2 (Last Monday)

Day 2 (last Monday)


Day 9 (this morning)

Day 9 (this morning)


If nothing else, seeing the difference between those photos is what’s keeping me on the straight and narrow. That and almost constant Friends binge-watching (9 days in and I’m almost at the end of season 2).

Many thanks to Tee, Felicity, Lisa, Matthew, Chanti, Sue and everyone else who helped keep me on the straight and narrow last week. Gird your loins because week 2 is here. But no matter what it has to bring, I’m ready for it! Do your worst week 2 – I am going to kick your ass!


7 (well, 8 actually) days down, 93 (well 92 actually) to go!

7 (well, 8 actually) days down, 93 (well 92 actually) to go!




Big girl panties

These are what I put on this morning before my first official weigh-in in a month and a half.


Screen Shot 2014-06-17 at 12.03.40 PM


Back then the scale was perfectly agreeable to me.


Screen Shot 2014-06-17 at 12.04.07 PM


This morning, however, the scale was, shall we say, not.





I think we can all agree that that deserves one of these.




Pretty much the only thing that’s worth looking at in that pic is my stylish Orly Red Flare pedicure, thanks to the gorgeous Angelique from Rouge Day Spa.



Orly Red Flare. Giving your tootsies some winter sizzle!


So looking at that scale reading, I have a few choices.


–       Self-recrimination

–       Self-flagellation

–       Name-calling

–       Guilt

–       Shame

–       Regret

–       Or a swallowing a giant steaming mug of HTFU


I’ll give you one guess as to which option I’ve chosen.

I’ll give you one guess as to which option I’ve chosen.


When Renee Zellweger was trying to gain weight to play Bridget Jones, she said it took her 2 months to gain the 20lbs she needed for the role. I accomplished twice that in about half the time. Does this mean I get to marry Colin Firth and live happily ever after? Because I’d totally be down for that.

Jokes aside though, it is obviously massively, hugely, horribly embarrassing for me to post this here. To say that I feel like a big fat failure would be an understatement. Even worse, I actually FEEL fat. This morning at training I was huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf, trying to escape the fat suit it felt as if I’d just put on. For months now I’ve felt supremely envious of those who lose 10-12kg and are suddenly at their goal weight. Every time I read one of those transformations I would feel slightly resentful. Because I’d lost 30kg and couldn’t feel it at all. Well I can tell you, now that I’ve gained almost 14kg, I can feel every single gram. Perhaps in some strange way I needed to feel that – to know that whereas before I was beating myself up over not having lost enough, I should have been bouncing from the rooftops celebrating my success. You can bet your ass I’m going to do it in future.

But what am I going to do now? Simple – what I should have been doing the whole time – training regularly, eating right, sleeping well, and not drinking 90 000 drinks like I did on Saturday night (which was just a drop in the ocean of the past few weeks, literally).

But most of all what I’m going to do is not beat myself up about it. Yes, I have fucked up, and fucked up royally, but calling myself a big fat failure, a giant roly-poly, a moon-face or the Pillsbury Doughboy isn’t going to help the weight come off any faster, and it’s just going to make me reach for the tequila, Friends box set be damned.


Yes, you heard me.

Yes, you heard me.


Of course stopping the negative self-talk is easier said than done. That little voice is quiet and insidious, and before you know it, you realise it’s been talking to you non-stop for five minutes, without you doing anything about it. Which is why I’ve started wearing this:


My little pink SleekGeek armband.

My little pink SleekGeek armband.


And every time I catch myself saying something nasty about myself, I switch it to the other wrist. I’ve done it so much this morning already that I’ve barely had time to do anything else. But awareness is key. The more aware I become of my negative self-talk, the more able I’ll be to put a stop to it and treat myself with compassion. Because no matter how much weight I’ve gained, I still deserve at least that.

So that’s me for the next week – eating right, training hard, and sleeping more than 4 hours a night. And then hopefully in a few weeks, once all the carbs and water and bloat have receded, I might be able to fit from these:


Screen Shot 2014-06-17 at 12.03.40 PM


Into these:


Screen Shot 2014-06-17 at 12.37.28 PM


100 Days of Sobriety: Day 1

Here we go people – Day 1! This is it – feeling good, feeling strong, feeling like I could take on the world!

Actually no, that’s total bullshit. I’m so tired I’m falling asleep as I write this. And why am I so tired? Because last night I was on a one-woman mission to DRINK ALL THE DRINKS before Day 1 kicked in. Allow me to demonstrate.

Last night I drank:

One of these


That’s a 440ml bottle I’ll have you know.

That’s a 440ml bottle I’ll have you know.


One of these




Two of these


Frozen margarita


About nine of these


Wine glass


Two frozen Jagerbombs that I forgot to take pictures of.


And so many of these I lost count.


Which is why the photo is so blurry.

Which is why the photo is so blurry.


Most of which were served to me by this fine upstanding gentleman


This is Charlie. Charlie owns Home Bar. Home Bar rocks the hizzouse.

This is Charlie. Charlie owns Home Bar. Home Bar rocks the hizzouse.


All of which goes to explain why I started off the evening looking like this:




And woke up this morning looking like this:


Why yes, that is last night’s makeup smeared all over my face. Attractive, no?

Why yes, that is last night’s makeup smeared all over my face. Attractive, no?


Don’t worry, that’s not the official selfie I’m going to be using for my 100 days of sparkling water. But it’s certainly not a face I want to be seeing again anytime soon. So yes, here’s to 100 days of waking up bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and full of awesome!

Check back here in 3 days’ time where I shall proceed to have a mental breakdown because I can’t have a glass of wine at pub quiz.


It’s just you and me from now on Kitty!

It’s just you and me from now on Kitty!




100 Days of Sobriety

So I was browsing Sleek Girls the other day when I came across a post from one of the ladies announcing that she had just completed 100 days of sobriety (whoop whoop). I clicked the Like button (because I’m awesome like that) but if there had been a Disbelief button, I would have clicked that sucker about a million times. Because I cannot comprehend how someone can go for 100 days without having a single sip of alcohol. It boggles the mind.


Just as mind-boggling - the concept of only drinking one glass of wine.

Just as mind-boggling – the concept of only drinking one glass of wine.


I couldn’t get it out of my head though. 100 days of no drinking. What on earth do you do with all that free time? With that stress, that boredom, that need to celebrate, have fun, kill time, make it through the day with your sanity intact? Then it slowly dawned on me (as I was sitting at a bar at 2am on a weekday) that perhaps if I’m using alcohol for all those things, that going for 100 days without it wasn’t just a nice idea – it was a necessity.

Without a doubt, the hardest thing so far for me on this journey has been my battle with binge drinking. I’ve made plans, made decisions, made headway, but ultimately it’s still a giant struggle for me – and if I’m honest, it’s most often a battle that I want to lose. I don’t know any other way of getting through the bad times or celebrating the good times, and navigating my way through life’s ups and downs without a glass of something fabulous in my hand scares the shit out of me.


Pictured: The only self-help guide I've ever needed.

Pictured: The only self-help guide I’ve ever needed.


Which is why I decided for the sake of my sanity, my waistline and my poor abused liver, that I would embark on my own 100 Days of Sobriety, and look forward to coming out the other side a healthier person both inside and out.

When I told my friends I would be doing this, their reactions were pretty much what I had anticipated.


“Nooooooo – who’s going to drink with me?”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Ja right, good luck with that.”

“100 days? Absolutely no way.”

“I give it a week.”

“Why, just… why?”


Of course, some of my friends were a tad more supportive.

“Fabulous idea.”

“I’ll do it with you!”

“It’s going to be so good for you.”

“I absolutely support you 100%.”

“We are going to get sooooo hammered on day 101!”


And that’s why I keep those people around.


I do have a plan though. No-one going into battle should be without one. Which is why my battle against my binge drinking demons will be fought with:

1. This handy ‘tick off the days’ chart. If I can see my progress visually it’ll help push me through.


Yes, I realise the irony of having this stuck up with magnets advertising alcohol, but they were all I had. Eat me.

Yes, I realise the irony of having this stuck up with magnets advertising alcohol, but they were all I had. Eat me.


2. The support of my friends. At least 2 friends have offered to do the challenge with me, as well as one or two online buds, so the more help I (and we) have, the merrier.


3. A selfie collage. I’m going to take a photo of myself every single morning for the 100 days, so that I have a visual reference of just how much healthier staying away from the booze is making me. When I can see the puffiness and bloat recede, to be replaced with bright eyes, clear skin, and hopefully cheekbones too, it’ll get me to the next day.


4. A positive attitude. It’s no point sulking about the fact that I can’t drink, and it’s no point complaining about it and moaning constantly and boring everyone within a 5-kilometer radius. If I keep focusing on what I can’t do, it’ll make me want to do it even more. So rather than fixating on what I’m giving up and seeing it as a punishment, I’m going to concentrate on what I’m getting instead, so that I can see it as a reward. And what am I getting? Better health, vitality, more energy, more money, smaller jeans, and no worrying about driving places, spending money on taxis, did I pay my bill, did I say anything to piss anyone off, is my car ok, why am I vomiting through my EYEBALLS??!!! I call that a definite win.


5. Good habits. Taking away my biggest crutch will force me to look for support in other places – both within myself, and from the support structure I’ve created for myself. The most important thing I want to achieve from this experience is to teach myself how to cope with stress and other negative emotions in a healthy, positive way. Because no matter which way you look at it, sitting at Pirates till 4am on a Monday is just a bad, bad BAD idea. (On a side note, nothing good has EVER come out of someone saying, “let’s go to Pirates” on a Sunday evening. Take it from me. Who is usually the one that says it.)


And finally:


6. Blackmail. When all else fails, blackmail is the way to go. Which is how this conversation came about on Thursday evening:


Nicola: So I’m going to be doing 100 days of sobriety starting on Sunday.

Matthew: 100 days? That’s a loooong time.

N: I know, but I have a plan!

M: That’s great, but what we really need is a penalty of some kind. Something so awful that it would immediately stop you from wanting to have a drink.

N: That is a BRILLIANT idea! But like what?

M: I don’t know, we’ll have to think about it.

N: Ooh ooh, what if I had to pay you R500 if I had a drink?

M: Nope. If it came down to it and you really wanted a beer, you’d totally think it was worth R500.

N: Yup you’re right, I would.

M: You hate the beach. How about if you drink, you have to go swim at the beach in winter?

N: I hate the beach but I love drinking more. I’d totally do that, no problem.

M: Ok we’ll have to think some more.


Some time (and some drinks) later.


N: Ooh I know. How about if I have a drink, I have to give you the remote to my tv?

M: That’s better but we’re still not there yet.


Some more time (and some more drinks) later.


M: I’ve got it!

N: You don’t have it.

M: No I do, I’ve got it! If you have a drink before the 100 days are over, you have to… (drum roll please)… donate your Friends box set to an orphanage!!

N: <gigantic grimace>

M: I knew it – that’s the one!

N: How do you know that?

M: Because I’ve never seen your face do that before!

N: How do you know I won’t have a drink and then lie about it?

M: Because you’re totally honest. I’m not worried about that at all. Nope, this is it. If you have a drink before the 100 days are up, that box set is going bye bye!


<Nicola starts drinking heavily>


This is what comes from having these kinds of conversations with people who know you too well.

This is what comes from having these kinds of conversations with people who know you too well.


If you know anything about me at all, you’ll know that my Friends box set is one of my most prized possessions. I have seen every one of those episodes at least 30 or 40 times. I know them all off by heart. I throw their lines into conversation and pretend they’re my own. If you’ve seen Friends as much as I have, you’ll know I’m not funny in the slightest – I just copy what they say and how they say it, and wait for laughter to ensue. I don’t watch Friends, I am Friends. And there is no way in fuck I am donating that box set to an orphanage.


Sorry kids – this here box set is staying with me.

Sorry kids – this here box set is staying with me.


So there we have it – that’s my foolproof plan to staying sober for 100 days. Support, pictures, a positive attitude and some good, old-fashioned blackmail. The foundation on which every sound strategy should be based.

100 days of sobriety kicks off tomorrow, Sunday 15 June, and will end on Monday 22 September. Which of course means that I am going to DRINK MY FACE OFF tonight – so if you’re anywhere near Harfield, come join me for one last hurrah. But as of tomorrow, it’s bye bye booze and hello health, and I have to say that I’m actually looking forward to it. Join me as I document the highs and lows over the next 100 days, and feel my pain as I tackle stress with nothing but sparkling water by my side. If nothing else, it’ll be an interesting read.


The sounds of silence

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I am a sociable person. I love going out, I love talking to people, I love having fun and I love communicating. You should never worry about me when I’m talking (unless I’m 9 tequilas deep because then shit is about to get MESSY). You should worry about me when I keep quiet.

Like any naughty child that’s up to no good, being quiet does not mean you’re putting your head down and getting on with things. Being quiet means that you’re getting up to some insane mischief, and you think that if you don’t talk while you’re doing it, no-one will notice.


Screen Shot 2014-06-11 at 4.00.32 PM


Unfortunately for me, people have noticed. A small but steady stream of people have messaged to ask me a) where my next blog post is, b) why I am so quiet, c) am I ok? I have ignored these messages, because I don’t want to have to reply a) I don’t feel like blogging, b) I am currently indulging in some very self-destructive behaviour, and c) no, I am anything but ok.

In a nutshell I have been too busy….

– Ordering takeaways
– Downing tequila
– Pinting beer
– Glugging wine
– Going out every night
– Getting home at some ungodly hour
– Spending money I don’t have
– And feeling like a total fucking loser

…to think about a topic for my next blog post, let alone feel inspired enough to actually write one.

Hence being so quiet.


Screen Shot 2014-06-11 at 3.57.25 PM


Support is a tricky thing. It’s one thing to have it – it’s quite another to use it when you need to. Support requires that you play a part in your own redemption, and often (or pretty much all the time, in my case) you don’t actually want support when you need it most. You don’t want to tell people that you’re in trouble, that you’re drowning, that you’re so far off the wagon all you can see is a tiny dust cloud far off in the distance. Because as soon as you tell people you’re struggling, they’re going to want to help you. And you don’t want help dammit.

You WANT to eat that chocolate bar. You WANT to drink that beer. You WANT to order McDonald’s. And yes, you WANT to feel like an absolute piece of shit afterwards. And why? Because it’s all you know – it’s the way you’ve coped for years, it’s comfortable, it’s familiar, and dealing with life’s downs in any other way is too scary to contemplate. Better the devil (or the thousands of calories) you know, than bubble baths or mindful breathing or colouring in or whatever else you don’t.

I don’t know about you but after I’ve had an OMGMYDAYWASSOSTRESSFULI WANTTODIE kind of experience, the fucking last thing I want to do is sit in a pool of scented water and contemplate life. No, I want to drink and I want to drink HARD.


Drinking. Hard.

Drinking. Hard.


And so even though I have family and friends and Facebook support groups a-go-go, none of it works because I don’t USE it. I shy away from the support I need, I shut up and I feed my face. And then I feel guilty and I feed my face some more. Lather, rinse, repeat.

The people I’ve surrounded myself with as a support structure aren’t stupid though. When things are going great, I’m all “woohoo lost another 2kg, high five for awesomeness”, and then I bore them silly talking about deadlifts and back squats and bench presses, oh my. So when I shut up, they notice. Which is why my conversations with them go something like this:

Thursday, 9pm. Via Whatsapp.

Caren (sister): Hey you’ve been quiet recently, are you ok?
Nicola (me): Yup all good thanks.
C: What you up to:
N: Nothing much.
C: How was your SleekGeek dinner the other night?
N: Yup, very inspiring.
C: And training, how’s that going.
N: All good.
C: Wait a minute, you’re out drinking aren’t you?
N: Wha—? Huh? How could you POSSIBLY know that?
C: You’re being way too quiet and trying way too hard to get me off the phone.
N: OK FINE! I am drinking! It is Thursday night, leave me alone!
C: Put down the beer and get out!
N: No, I’m the oldest, you can’t tell me what to do!
C: I am going to kick your ass.

Nicola has left the conversation.


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Support. It’s a tricky thing. When you’re doing well you don’t need it, but you use it all the time. When you’re doing badly, you need it like oxygen, but you shun it like the plague.

So in a giant nutshell, that’s why all you can hear is crickets when it comes to my weight loss journey. Because I’ve been getting up to far too much mischief to post about how I’ve fucked up YET again. It’s exhausting and depressing and reason #324 why Harfield Village has run out of liquor.

But I have a plan. I need to, because the jeans that were too big for me at the beginning of the year are now nice and snug, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to wallow in misery and Cuervo all the way back up to 135kg again. So there are a few things I’m going to be thinking about and putting in place over the next few days in order to get back on track. And when I do, you’ll be the first to know. Silence may be golden for some, but for me it’s deep-fried, dipped in chocolate, dusted with sugar and laden with calories. So I’m going to be speaking up more from now on, whether it’s good or bad. And if you’re one of the wonderful people on my support team, get ready to be bugged by me day and night. Nicola is talking again. Be afraid. Be very afraid.


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