Losing It

My mad, crazy journey to health and beyond

Back from the dead

SURPRISE! Thought I was gone forever didn’t you? Well I’m back, finally. The poking and prodding and pleading finally did the trick, and here I am putting pen to paper once again (metaphorically speaking of course).

I’ll have you know though, that I’m not happy about it. And why? Let’s go through the list shall we.

  1. I’m feeling uninspired as fuck. It’s very difficult, nay, impossible, to inspire others when you’re not feeling very inspired yourself. So I thought instead of going through all that effort of pretending to be sparkly and shiny and yay, hooray, I’d do nothing instead.
  2. I’m fat again. That’s actually the real reason to be honest. And while I’d love to blame the fuckshow that was 2016 (Alan Rickman, sniff), unfortunately the only person I have to blame is myself. Too much drinking, too much junk food, not enough running, not enough training, too many excuses, not enough hard work. Plain and simple.
  3. I’m embarrassed. Do you know what it’s like to give talks on losing tons of weight, to be in magazines, to be trending on News24 as a “weight loss inspiration”, and to then go and gain a metric fuckton of weight inside of a year? It’s embarrassing as all hell, and I was ashamed of myself. I felt like an imposter, a joke, and a laughingstock. So instead of actually doing something about it, I chose to hide and eat and drink my way through it instead. This is a wonderful coping mechanism – I would really recommend it. Hashtag sarcasm.
  4. I’ve lost my way. Where I once found consistency and sustainability so easy, now it’s harder to find than a virgin on prom night. It was the one weapon in my arsenal that I could always count on – the ability to recover from setbacks in a nanosecond and soldier on regardless. Now, however, when I fall off the wagon or have a shitty day, I let old habits and bad decisions weigh me down and keep me in a rut far longer than I have any business being there. Why? One of the many questions I hope to find the answer to this year.
  5. I feel like I’ve let people down. I’m supposed to be Nicola the Amazing – the health coach with a solution for everything, the one who works and works and works, who motivates and inspires and is insanely, overwhelmingly positive and fabulous. And I haven’t been that way or felt like that for the better part of a year. There have been so many people who’ve supported me along the way – my family, my friends, my coach, the SleekGeek community, my health coaching clients, Facebook friends, internet strangers (the ones who don’t send dick pics) and many many more. And I feel like me going back to unhealthy ways is a giant middle finger to each and every one of them. It’s a hugely heavy burden to bear so again, wine. And more wine. You see the pattern?

Before you start to slit your wrists however, this isn’t going to be a completely negative, my life sucks, I’m a terrible person, woe is me kind of thing. I’m back from the dead but it’s not a fucking zombie apocalypse. Good job because holy crap I am too unfit to outrun anyone. Instead I see it as more of a phoenix rising from the ashes type thing, new life, rebirth, clean slate, the whole bang shoot.

So that’s what I’m doing here. Giving you a wave, telling you what I’ve been up to (mostly Home Bar and Mr Delivery), and letting you know that both my blog and my health journey have been resurrected. With gusto. Please join me as I get back on the horse. For one thing, I’m going to need a crane to lift me back on the saddle. For another, life is always so much more fun with company around. I hope that includes you.

Kiss 1


Seven days

No, this is not a Craig David song. No-one was making love by Wednesday, and on Thursday, and Friday and Saturday. Although we did chill on Sunday.

Monday: Taking a break from civilisation. Up early to train. Healthy meals all day. Work till 9:30pm. TV. Bed. Watch stuff on laptop. Know I should really be going to sleep. Watch more stuff anyway.

Tuesday: Up early to train. Healthy meals all day. Work till 7pm. TV. Bed. Watch stuff on laptop. Big Fat Quiz of the Year cracks me up. Even though I’ve seen every episode 3 times now.

Wednesday: Up early to train. Healthy meals all day. Work till 4:30pm. Watch The Cutting Edge. For the millionth time. TOEPICK! Bed. Watch stuff on laptop again. Starting to develop a crush on Jimmy Carr. May need to return to civilisation sooner than I thought.

Thursday: Up early to train. Healthy meals all day. Work till 5:30pm. TV. Bed. Watch stuff on laptop. I like Noel Fielding’s hair. And his dress. That was a weird sentence.

Friday: Up early to train. Healthy meals all day. Work, then return to civilisation. TV. Bed. Watch stuff on laptop. Wishing the year would hurry up and end so they would bring out a new episode of Big Fat Quiz of the Year. Obsession with Richard Ayoade is now at an 11 out of 10.

Saturday: Up at 4:30am. What in the name of all that is holy??? Eat breakfast half-asleep. Drive 500 miles (ok, 50km) through to Landskroon Winery. Not to drink. To run. Because I am mad.


Run 10km in 1:16. Not quite last, but almost. Eh, don’t care – was a beautiful run. Realise that left arm is in an immense amount of pain, with almost zero mobility. Drive home, shower. Carefully. Drive through to hair salon. Changing gears is excruciating. Yay for me. Sit in chair and wonder if everyone looks revolting in those awful hairdressing capes, or if it’s just me. How come I never noticed I had so many chins??? Drive home. Ow. OW! Healthy lunch, watch tv, take drugs given to me by pharmacist. Drape hot pack over arm. Pray for slow death. Realise that getting dressed for function later will be almost impossible. Call friend over to help. Drink bubbly, get dressed very slowly. Bubbly helps. So does friend. Call Uber. Thank fuck I don’t have to drive. Get to Pigalle (fancy!) for freelance Christmas party. Have super awesome time with friends!



Eat healthy food. DRINK ALL THE DRINKS! Move on to some other clubs. Not feeling it. Some weird-ass dude is trying to feel my face. Dimly recall there’s some sort of song about that. Realise that when I am in a club surrounded by 25-year-olds on E, it’s probably time to leave. Pour myself into an Uber and go home to pass out. Getting undressed doesn’t hurt quite as badly. Thank you alcohol.

Sunday: Why am I asleep on my couch? Remember moving there in the middle of the night. Don’t question it. Headache. Arm still hurts like a mother bitch. Yay Myprodol and Rehidrat! Healthy breakfast. Shower, Cavendish, Mockingjay Part 2. Biltong snacks. Home after decent movie and appalling Point Break trailer. Crave pizza. Have a chicken and salad wrap instead. I would high five myself but it’s too much effort. So traumatised by previous trailer, watch real (and only!) Point Break to calm myself down. Snooze on couch. Wake up to Keanu yelling “I AM AN FBI AGENT!” Yes you are baby, yes you are. Skype parents, watch random crap on TV. End off day with a healthy dinner and half of Ghost. Apparently I’m in a Patrick Swayze kind of mood. He would never put me in a corner.

Monday: Up and at ’em, go go GO! Drive through to Clifton, climb a fucking ridiculous amount of stairs (whatever 280 x 14 is). Die.


Home. Breakfast. Doctor. Cortisone and anaesthetic. Bliss. Work till 6:30pm. Healthy meals all day. Perve new intern on Grey’s. Again. Assessing whether or not this means I am in need of a life. Bed. More Big Fat Quiz. Wonder if Eddie Izzard is straight or gay. Google. Straight apparently. You learn something new about transvestites every day.

Tuesday: Step on scale.


Realise that after a week of regular training, healthy eating, positive thinking and doing a lot of what I love, I have managed to lose 3.7kg in one week. Because I am a fucking legend.

And that, my friends, is balance.


Frequently Asked Questions

I’ve been writing a lot of FAQ pages recently in my professional capacity, so I thought, why not write one in my personal capacity too and tackle some of the queries that have been coming my way. Just go with me on this.


Q: So where’ve you been recently Nicola?

A: At home. Away. Home some more. Away some more. Not wearing pants. Bars. Also bars. And then bars. I did wear pants in the bars though.



Literally do not remember this photo being taken.


Q: So does that mean you’re drinking again?

A: I refuse to answer on the grounds that it may incriminate me.


Q: You know we’re in South Africa right? The Fifth Amendment doesn’t apply here.

A: Oh for fuck’s sakes.


Q: Would you like to try that again?

A: OK FINE! YEEEEEEEEEEES I am drinking again.


Q: What are you drinking?

A: Kenilworth mostly.


Q: Why are you being so difficult?

A: Permission to be acknowledged as a hostile witness Your Honour.


Q: Again, not an episode of Law & Order. Seriously, what’s going on?

A: I don’t KNOOOOOOOOOOOW! Ok well actually I do know. Drink, drink, drink some more. Make some very questionable choices. Throw name like a fucking champion. Wake up feeling like SHIT. Eat all the food. Have one to two days of making healthy choices. Ooh I feel like a drink! Repeat ad infinitum. Feel guilty, feel like crap, feel ashamed, feel like burying myself under the duvet and never coming out, feel li… WHERE IS THE MYPRODOL???


Q: Yeah no, that’s not good.

A: That’s not a question.


Q: Ok, so here’s the question. What the actual fuck is going on?

A: Genuinely, honestly, I have no idea. It could be a number of things. Work is BEYOND insane, so there’s that. I’ve been working relentlessly at my health and fitness journey for nearly 18 months now non-stop, so there’s that. And it’s the end of the year, when everyone is naturally tired and exhausted and broken down anyway, so there’s that. Throw my biggest trigger and my knee-jerk go-to coping mechanism on top of all of that, and it’s like chucking a Molotov cocktail on top of all your hard work and watching everything go up in flames.





Q: So are you going to go back to sobriety again then? Because it seems that all your issues started as soon as you took that first sip of wine a few weeks ago.

A: I’ve seriously contemplated it. Giving up alcohol and committing fully to my health journey was a massive catalyst for change in my life, and it not only introduced me to new friends and new pastimes, it introduced me to my authentic self, and a better quality of life overall.


Q: So that’s a yes?

A: You would think so, but no. I thought about it a lot, I discussed it with friends, I mulled over it at 3am when I couldn’t sleep, and I most definitely considered it when I was hunched over a toilet at 5am having a dramatic technicolour conversation. And at one point I was genuinely convinced that I was going to embrace lifelong sobriety. But then I realised, I don’t WANT to be sober for the rest of my life. What I want is to be able to go to wine festivals and dinners and lazy lunches and ladies’ nights and enjoy some drinks, some giggles, some good conversation, some blissful tipsiness, and embrace everything that life has to offer, not just part of it.



Case in point.


Q: What do you mean by that?

A: Well, when I gave up drinking, it was the absolute best thing for me at the time. It forced me to confront the fact that there IS a way of existing, of living, of coping and of being happy without having to depend on alcohol constantly. I’d heard this was possible, but I’d never experienced it for myself. So that’s what sobriety allowed me to do – enjoy life to the full without any chemical enhancement. But looking back on it now, I realise that it wasn’t a balanced way of life. There were a lot of things I sacrificed and missed out on while I was so determinedly focused on my health journey. And that’s fine, I was fully prepared to give up those things for the sake of my physical and emotional health. But now I want to embrace life in EVERY way – to enjoy the same awesome moments and the same amazing quality of life I did while I was sober, AND to enjoy the fun of partying and socialising with my friends too. I want both sides of life, and even though I’m struggling to reconcile them at the moment, it’s something I know I can make happen for myself, if I work hard enough at it.


Q: How?

A: Well isn’t that the fucking million dollar question. Obviously I don’t know right this moment, hence the struggle and the falling and THE SHAME and the everything. But I’m determined to once and for all find the thing that has so far escaped me for most of my adult life – BALANCE. Drinking all the time obviously wasn’t balanced – but then neither was being sober all the time too. Both were very all or nothing ways of existing, and yes, while sobriety worked wonderfully well for me, it was a temporary phase, not a permanent way of life. Now that I’m finished with that phase, it’s time to move on to the next, far healthier, far more sustainable one – BALANCE.


Q: And you think you can?

A: I gave up alcohol for 15 months. If I can make it through dinners, parties, blind dates, concerts, my high school reunion, and a freaking car accident without resorting to alcohol, I can do this. Embracing sobriety was literally the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and I genuinely didn’t think I could do it. I’m looking forward to surprising myself again.


Q: Don’t hit me, but I need to ask. Has all this up and down and sideways and what what affected your weigh-ins at all?



Q: I’m taking it that’s a yes?

A: That’s a big fat yes.


Q: Ok, so what are you going to do about it?

A: Well I’ve taken a few lessons from the fuck-up that has been the past five weeks – the biggest one being, never, ever, ever, EVER drink the night before a trail run. I’m serious kids. Don’t do it. There are few other guidelines I’ll be putting in place for myself in order to achieve more balance in my life, but the biggest one is, just let it freaking go man. We’re all human, we all make mistakes, you don’t have to be better than anyone else or hold yourself to a higher standard or be perfect ALL THE TIME. Because you can’t. So when you fall down, don’t lie there yelling and screaming and drowning in your own shame and guilt. Just let it go, get up, and get back to work. Ain’t nobody got time for that. As for the few (ok, ok, 6) extra kilograms I’ve picked up, the rest of the year I’ll be making as many healthy choices as I can, as often as I can, I’ll be getting back on the trails and back in the gym, and come January, I’ll have lost it all and be ready to pound 2016 into submission!


Q: High five sister!

A: High five.


Q: Ok so those are all the questions I have for you.

A: Thank god for that, I’m starving, and my chicken and lettuce wrap awaits!


Q: One more thing.

A: I knew it was too good to be true.


Q: Don’t think that because you have a blog and do health coaching and post transformation pics of yourself and have a health and fitness group that you can’t ask for help too. This shit is HARD, and no-one expects you to be Little Miss Perfect, 24/7. Because frankly, how boring. Don’t feel guilty, don’t feel ashamed, don’t feel fat – just learn, get up, do better and don’t stop sharing. Because people care, and you’ll see that whenever you fall down, you have hundreds of hands waiting to help you back up. Don’t ever forget that, ok?


Birthday fun

I see what you mean.


Girl Power

My friends and I have a tradition. Every Women’s Day, we go out for lunch and get completely and utterly hammered. We start our “lunch” at around 1pm (inverted commas because very little eating usually gets done) and eventually stumble out of the restaurant at about 11pm. Sometimes later, depending on the severity of the week. I love my friends, and I love drinking, which is why I’ve always loved Women’s Day. Good food, good wine, good conversation, and good god, what an awesome time!

Obviously some memorable moments have come out of these annual drinkathons. There was the year my friend went to the loo and her bag got stolen off the back of her chair. There was the year the same friend and I got so rat-assed, the evil waiter charged each of us R700 individually, instead of collectively, and we didn’t notice (that fucker made out like a bandit). And there was the year I said to my friends, “I hear there’s some 10km Women’s Day race in Stellenbosch or something – maybe next year we should do that.” And then we all gave ourselves appendicitis by laughing so fucking hard, and went back to drowning ourselves in tequila and bad decisions.

This year marked the 10th anniversary of our annual Women’s Day Piss-Up, and after a decade of laughing, eating and drinking together, you would have thought this celebration would have been the one to END THEM ALL. I’m talking body shots and strippers and Cuervo, oh my. If you’d looked at us, you wouldn’t have seen anything different. You would have seen love and laughter and clinking glasses and friendship. But if you’d looked a little closer, you would have seen three out of the five glasses filled with sparkling water, and the other two only half-filled with a single glass of wine. Because times change, and so have we.


I spend a lot of time on here talking about how much I value the support of my friends, but I don’t talk about them much beyond that, mostly because I try to disassociate them from my word drivel as much as possible. I’ve made a lot of new friends in the past year or two, thanks to my association with SleekGeek and my new love of trail running, and I appreciate and value them all, but it’s the friends I’ve had for the past five, ten, fifteen years that I want to recognise today. The friends who don’t know me only as Nicola who fits into size 30 Levi’s and gives talks about weight loss success. Rather, the friends who knew me when I drank too much, ate too much, didn’t shower for weeks on end, wore filthy, ripped clothes to work, was hungover four days out of seven, and spent most of my time hating myself and hating my life.


I’ve lived away from my family since I was 12 years old and in boarding school, and as a result, my friendships have become massively, intrinsically, critically important to me. My friends are more than people I simply spend time with – they are my urban family, the people I turn to in good times and bad, the people I ask for help, and the people I depend on to tell me when I’m going off the rails and harming myself. I’ve done plenty of fucking stupid things in my 38 years of existence, but one thing I’ve done right is surround myself with the best family members a girl could ask for. Together we’ve seen each other through everything – losing partners, losing jobs, losing family members, losing hope, and in the process we’ve gained something indescribably valuable – a connectedness that surpasses petty jealousies and spitefulness and nastiness, and is instead the strength of sisterhood at its finest.

We might not be on the same paths, but we’re constantly growing together, learning together, and striving to transform into the best versions of ourselves we can be – which is why instead of knocking back the GDP of Mexico this year at Women’s Day, we were concentrating on filling up with what was really important – each other.


I used to think all women valued each other and recognised their collective strength and importance, but it turns out I was wrong. Instead, it seems there are some women out there who simply don’t get it. Women who tell me I’m showing off for celebrating my progress. Women who call me a bitch for losing weight. Women who smile in front of me and say nasty, vile things about me and my journey behind my back. And women who tell me that my choices (to be celibate, to not have children) somehow make me less than a woman, with a life unfulfilled.

Yeah just look how unhappy I am.

Yeah just look how unhappy I am.

I made the mistake last week of letting these stings and barbs bother me for a few days. I even almost went as far as deleting both my blog and my Losing It Facebook page, because I thought, what is the fucking point? I moped around a bit because, human, but then I realised something, and I’ve slept easy since then. I realised that I don’t need to feel sorry for myself, but sorry for these women instead. I’m sorry that there are women out there who let themselves feel defeated by the successes of others. I’m sorry that there are women who choose to put others down in order to lift themselves up. I’m sorry that there are women who feel more comfortable exposing their naked insecurities than working through them. And mostly I’m sorry that there are women out there who are such a blatant disgrace to their gender and feminism as a whole. Bless sweethearts. Womanhood. You’re doing it wrong.

Some people who aren’t doing it wrong though are my friends. My strong, powerful, beautiful, supportive friends. We may not get quite as shitfaced together anymore, but we’re still here for each other on Women’s Day and every day in between. And while the health journey is hard, and the road is long, walking it with you makes every step easier and more worthwhile. So a massive heartfelt thank you and bags of love to Sue, Wendy, Liezl, Pat, Lynn, Tiziana, Chantel, and of course, Caren. I went and looked up “woman” in the dictionary, and your names were all there. My dictionary is a weirdly specific one. Girl power. You’re doing it very, very, very right.

Literally the only fucking photo I have of you Chantel. What the F man?

Literally the only fucking photo I have of you Chantel. What the F man?


Things I learned on holiday. In Mauritius.

In case you’ve been living under a rock, you’ll know that I recently went on holiday to visit my parents in Mauritius. I won’t bore you with how fabulous it was, because it was – instead I’ll pass on some extremely important life lessons I learned while I was swanning around an island paradise for two weeks. These are now what keep me warm at night while I’m shivering in my blanket taco.

1. Life is hard.


2. Cake is good.


3. Post-cake sugar coma is not.


4. Waterfalls are cool.


5. Cannons are big.


6. Statues also.


7. Lilypads also.


8. Catamarans are awesome.


9. Water is blue. Blue blue blue.


10. Mocktails taste better on holiday.


11. Parents rock.


12. Birthday pancakes have no calories.


13. Neither do birthday cupcakes, brownies or ice cream with homemade salted caramel sauce.


14. Miniature Mauritian chickens are delicious.


15. It’s amazing the difference a little time and a lot of work can make.


16. And if you make healthy holiday choices, move regularly and choose your treats wisely, you can still lose weight even when you’re on holiday:


You know what that means don’t you? Two years on this journey, FIFTY KILOGRAMS DOWN, and only 15 more to go! I’ll definitely be drinking to that on Saturday!


Life sucks and then you die

I really didn’t feel like blogging today. I really didn’t feel like doing much of anything today, other than saying ‘fuck this shit’ and climbing back under the covers. Literally the only reason why I got up, took my weigh-in pic and went to gym was because a) my trainer was waiting for me, and b) some very kind people have told me that they look forward to Tuesdays, because they love seeing my weekly weigh-in and reading my blog. So this one’s for you:



Logically I know that it is impossible for me to have gained 2.1kg in a week. I didn’t cheat on my eating plan once, I trained 6 days out of 7, and I tried to get a bit of extra sleep too. I know that apparent “weight gain” is a result of many things – water retention, inflammation, natural body fluctuations, hormones, yadda yadda. I know these things. But can I please just be human for one damn second, and say that it sucks giant donkey balls to do everything right and end up “gaining” 2.1kg in 7 days??


I realise I’m being slightly overdramatic, and that in the grand scheme of things, this is nothing. And I’m far enough along in my journey for this not to affect how I eat, train or live over the coming week. I’ve been to gym, I’ve had my healthy breakfast, all is right with the world. I am in no danger of eating or drinking my way through this. That way madness lies.

I’m a woman, so obviously I stepped on the scale 5 or 6 times to make ABSOLUTELY SURE that this was its last word on the subject, and sadly there was no budging it. Somewhere around the 3rd or 4th step onto the scale, the little voice in my head piped up. “You don’t get to be depressed about this. You have to be inspiring instead!”. I understand this. But please could you give me about 5 minutes to feel like crap? I’ll get back to being inspiring in just a sec.


Weigh-in Day 01.07.14

It’s been a week of ups, downs, calm, cray-cray and binge-watching Friends. But although I stuck to my training 100%, my sobriety 100% and my eating plan 95% (simply because I have no idea of the macro values of a plate of Villagio lasagna) I wasn’t expecting much of a loss this week, if any. On The Biggest Loser, if you drop 6.2kg in the first week (like I did last week, whoop whoop) you lose sweet fuck all the next week (it’s called The Week 2 Curse). Which is why I was not expecting this at all:


That’s another 0.9kg down. BOOM!

That’s another 0.9kg down. BOOM!


7.1kg down in two weeks? Yup, I’m pretty happy with that!

But this week doesn’t just mark yet another loss on the scale – today, 1 July 204 is exactly one year to the day that I started my weight loss journey for realz. I was thinking about this on the way to work this morning, and I was a bit bummed because my lowest weight so far this year was 104.1kg in March, and now after a few weeks of stupidity, I’m back up to 111.3kg. FML

But then I started thinking about all the things I’ve accomplished in the past year, and I started feeling better about it. Because in the past year I have:

  • Lost 23.1kg
  • Reversed my type 2 diabetes
  • Brought my blood pressure and cholesterol down from sky-high to normal
  • Deadlifted 100kg for a 1RM
  • Run (almost) 5km without stopping
  • Lost body fat
  • Gained muscle
  • Won the 2013 SleekGeek Winter Warrior Challenge
  • Been chosen as a FitGirlFab fitness ambassador
  • Partnered with Rouge Day Spa
  • Been featured in three magazine articles for my health achievements
  • Started this blog
  • Made friends with an absolutely fabulous community of ladies
  • Discovered a passion for helping others with their health and wellness
  • Hopefully inspired others to either start or continue with their own weight loss journeys

And gone from this:




To this:




So you know what? Fuck the few extra kilos that I’ve put on. I’ve done WAY more good than I have bad in the past twelve months, and that’s what I’m going to focus on, rather than getting upset at a temporary gain (which is disappearing as we speak). If I think back to where I was twelve months ago, there is no way I would have pictured being where I am now – stronger, fitter, healthier and still fighting. So a big high five to me, and a big high five to David, De Waal, the SleekGeek and Sleek Girls communities and all my friends and family who have watched, cheered, applauded, supported and tough loved me to this point. I can’t wait to see what the next twelve months have in store!

Big love to you all xxx


And the winner is…

I know you’ve all been eagerly anticipating the chance to cuddle up on a couch with me – frankly I’d think you were mad if you weren’t.

And so with that in mind, I employed a very serious, strict, rigorous selection process:


I wrote everyone's name on a piece of paper and put it into a bowl.

I wrote everyone’s name on a piece of paper and put it into a bowl.


I then shuffled the papers…




And shuffled them some more…




Before eventually picking a winner!




Oh wait, you want to actually see who won?




Congratulations Kelly! You’ve won the amazing, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to squash up next to me for an hour and be treated like a queen, with a free pedicure, courtesy of Rouge Day Spa!

Our appointment is for 3pm this Saturday the 8th of March – I’ll see you then!

Much love and thanks to everyone who entered – and if you didn’t win this time, don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll have lots more fabulous things to give away to you soon!


Smoochies xxx




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.


I’m too stupid to eat cheese

Cheese. For clever people only.

Cheese. For clever people only.


Cheese confuses me. It can’t just be one thing like a normal food group – oh no. It’s a protein AND a fat, which completely mucks up my eating plan. I’m supposed to have X amount of protein, fat and whatever veg I want at every meal, which is usually a fairly simple guideline to follow. But when I factor cheese into the equation, I have to start doing all sorts of sums to figure out, well if it’s this much protein and this much fat, then this is how much oil I’m allowed to cook with once I deduct that from my allowance and then now how much does my steak weigh, and then I start to GO CROSS-EYED!


This is not a block of cheese. This is a mathematical equation on a plate.

This is not a block of cheese. This is a mathematical equation on a plate.


I used to be the kind of person who weighed everything out to the last gramme, and had a fit if I ate one calorie more than I was supposed to. I once wrote a page-long email to a friend stressing about the fact that I’d done my calcuations incorrectly and had eaten half an avo instead of the quarter I was allowed, and how I could FEEL THE FAT CLINGING TO MY BONES! She quite rightly told me to get stuffed.

These days I’m way more chilled (although I did have a mild panic last night about the fact that I used light soya sauce with my stir-fry for today’s lunch and would that make me retain water for tomorrow’s weigh-in????). But, last night’s cameo paranoia aside, I’m way more relaxed than I used to be about food.

I think it’s because I’m not on such a rigid calorie-controlled diet anymore (1500 calories wtf?). My meals are now the size of a small, planet, I eat a ridiculous amount of calories every day for someone on a weight loss plan, and I’m NEVER HUNGRY.





As long as you get the basics right – enough protein to build muscle, don’t overeat on the healthy fats, veg, veg and more veg, you don’t have to get your panties in a twist if there are trace amounts of sugar in some or other sauce that you use once a fortnight. The bacon that I buy has nitrates in it, and I don’t care.


This is me at breakfast. Not caring.

This is me at breakfast. Not caring.


And I think that’s been my secret to success so far – just being super chilled about the whole thing. The minute I start stressing is when everything goes to a ball of shit. So as long as I just keep calm and carry on, I’ll be ok.


Who wouldn’t be ok eating meals like this?

Who wouldn’t be ok eating meals like this?


And because I’m so focused on being chillaxed (a bit on the contradictory side, I admit), I’ve managed to slowly but surely change my food behaviours. I haven’t visited a McDonald’s, KFC, Steers or any other fast food joint since 1 July. I haven’t had any sweets, chocolates or desserts (apart from one small bowl of vanilla ice cream) for six months. And my local watering hole, Banana Jam, recently put out a missing persons ad for me.

So ja, things are going well. I’m sticking to the good stuff, staying away from the bad stuff (95% of the time) and eating enough at one meal to feed a small family for a month. And it’s working, because my size 42 jeans are a month old and already they’re feeling a bit loose. So I have no complaints, and a lot to be thankful for. Although I do wish I’d taken A-level Maths so I could bloody well figure out how to eat cheese!

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