You may have guessed from my silence on the blog-front, the whole exercise/jogging thingy isn't going all that well. Despite this, I've surprisingly still managed to lose an additional half stone. (Still scratching head over this).
It started off with all the best intentions, twice a week, circuiting the local beauty spot with my heavy bulbous mass, in relative peace, bar the odd cajouling from the birdlife. And then came the stabbing pain in my heel and I assumed it was just my achilles. So I kept running. And then I started to nark off the other joggers in the running group because I'd start well, and run quite fast until time to turn around, and then as the pain got worse I'd slow down and they'd still be running quite fast, and I'd lose sight of them and eventually the jog leader would dutifully, but very reluctantly, have to turn back to tow me home.
So I went to the chiropodist, and she told me, get this, the fatty parts of my heel, yes, the FATTY parts of my heel, are inflamed. So the old self-esteem has taken a knock knowing I'm SO big, even my heels are deemed obese.
And I have new insoles and big shoes that make me look like I'm in a pantomime.
Also I've been on holiday. In Hurghada, Egypt. Where cheesey locals continuously called me 'Shakira'. I have absolutely no idea why, I mean Shakira does not have ginger hair and blue eyes, and I don't know about you, but I can't let Shakira's name pass now without thinking of Karen Dunbar's irreverent impression
it still cracks me up. Hmm, just realised it may have been my arse. You can't miss it. It blocks out the light.
So now it's the New Year. 2013. And as for resolutions?
To starve myself until I do actually look like Shakira? That's as likely as Shakira joining a convent.
To exercise just a little more? To eat a little less?
The jury's out on those ones.
However, I do want to wish you all health, happiness and prosperity in 2013 and may it be the best year you've ever had.
Immy x
It started off with all the best intentions, twice a week, circuiting the local beauty spot with my heavy bulbous mass, in relative peace, bar the odd cajouling from the birdlife. And then came the stabbing pain in my heel and I assumed it was just my achilles. So I kept running. And then I started to nark off the other joggers in the running group because I'd start well, and run quite fast until time to turn around, and then as the pain got worse I'd slow down and they'd still be running quite fast, and I'd lose sight of them and eventually the jog leader would dutifully, but very reluctantly, have to turn back to tow me home.
So I went to the chiropodist, and she told me, get this, the fatty parts of my heel, yes, the FATTY parts of my heel, are inflamed. So the old self-esteem has taken a knock knowing I'm SO big, even my heels are deemed obese.
And I have new insoles and big shoes that make me look like I'm in a pantomime.
Also I've been on holiday. In Hurghada, Egypt. Where cheesey locals continuously called me 'Shakira'. I have absolutely no idea why, I mean Shakira does not have ginger hair and blue eyes, and I don't know about you, but I can't let Shakira's name pass now without thinking of Karen Dunbar's irreverent impression
it still cracks me up. Hmm, just realised it may have been my arse. You can't miss it. It blocks out the light.
So now it's the New Year. 2013. And as for resolutions?
To starve myself until I do actually look like Shakira? That's as likely as Shakira joining a convent.
To exercise just a little more? To eat a little less?
The jury's out on those ones.
However, I do want to wish you all health, happiness and prosperity in 2013 and may it be the best year you've ever had.
Immy x
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