Playing Tag

I've gone crazy!
With one hand, I'm shoving Savoys into my mouth and in the other hand, I'm plopping Jaffas in simulaneously. I don't doubt that I have serious self-control problems! Where can one get treatment for this? OA (Overeaters Anonymous)? Psychotheraphy shock treatment? Hypnosis? Garhhhhhhhhhhh...


I feel gross/aweful/foul/fat/yuck because its been another bingeful weekend. I love Mr V and when I'm with him, I feel invincible. I feel as if all that midnight McDonalds will slide out of my body like water... but sadly... I've come to hit reality every Monday morning with this shit, overeaten feeling.


So yes... that is my excuse for my abandonment of my blog.


So, to fix this problem. I'm going to tell you the plan for this week. I shall stick to it... and I shall stick to it good! I mean, I DO have to be punished for destroying my hardwork (keeping in shape is damn harder than maths, in my honest opinion. At least with Maths, there's a quick solution if you follow the formula... weightloss is pretty much a Math formula that takes years to solve... and who's to know if you can ever solve it happily?)


Monday - Rest


Tuesday - BodyAttack


Wednesday - Cycle


Thursday - Crosstrainer


Friday - Cycle


Sunday - Badminton


Wow! I feel great just from writing it out. Blogger is amazing for my health.


So on Sunday, Mr V and I decided that we need to lugg our bodies away from the comfort of the bed and actually do something exercisable.


Firstly we decided,


"Ok! Let's do this, we're going to walk to buy lunch!"


We drove out to buy lunch.


Then we decided,


"Ok! Let's go play badminton!"


We called but no courts were free.


Then we decided,


"Ok! Let's go to the mountains and walk the 1000 steps!"


And that is just what we did.
I realised that music makes a huge amount of difference. I plugged the ipod into my ears and instantly heard the techno DOOF DOOF DOOF DOOF... this made me all bouncey and my legs automatically begun to move faster with less effort. Meanwhile, I occasionally look back to find Mr V huffing and puffing a long way behind me. Then there's me... wanting to move 5 million miles an hour. I put his earplugs into my hear and what did I hear...?


Frank Sinatra.

No friggen wonder.


Something funny I realised today too. Miss C was born and raised in Tassie, that is Tasmania. On a conversational tangent, we started talking about playing Tag in primary school. I mentioned that I used to play "tiggie" in the school yard during my primary school years and went on to describe "offground tiggie". She gave me a hilarious blank look and said... "do you mean chaseys?".


In America, they call it tag? And I distinctly remember playing Red Rover - a form of contagious TAG game where anyone you tag becomes a tagger, so the unlucky bastard at the end of the game is chased by his whole class.

Good times.