project health volume three: do you feel like maccas?

Okay, this week darlings, you get an Sassy update on how our health project is going. It’s been exactly two weeks since we’ve started, which means two weeks of doing more exercise than I would’ve done in the past five years. And sweet Jesus … everything hurts.

We’ve been trying to do exercise six days a week, and so far we’ve been pretty impressive (to ourselves) as far as motivation goes. Sometimes as I’d roll up tuna, cucumber and tomato in a toasted corn wrap and get ready to go to the gym, I would literally want to punch myself in the face. I HATE those perky perfect pod people, even when it’s me being all perky and motivated.

Kiki’s snacks of champions.

Luckily we still have the Gods of Football boys on the cupboard doors in the kitchen in Errol HQ, and seeing GI Ballin and his ridiculous body on the fridge I would finish scoffing my wrap, stop and think WHAT WOULD PERSONAL TRAINER BALL DO? 99% of the time, that answer is ‘go to the gym’ and ‘do more lunges’.

I also just really like getting up on the morning and going ‘SUP HOT BITCH’ while I boil the kettle.

So let’s break down the week:

* We took a little roadtrip on the weekend down to Canberra, and came back sick as dogs. I am pretty much the colour of Greg Inglis in that hideous zombie picture I posted in that Origin One post … remember? Yeah, that one. We apparently have flus of death which means I haven’t worked out today or yesterday. Booo.

* My plans to be a workout dynamo also hit a snag in Canberra thanks to our new nemesis. Let’s call him Mr. Wang. I already hated Mr. Wang for refusing to help when we lost our heater remote control, and instead sending up an extra blanket with holes in it. Then when I rang him to ask where the hotel gym was, he told me THE GYM’S OUTSIDE. IT’S CLOSED AFTER DARK, IT’S TOO COLD.

My response, as you probably expected, was ‘……. ?’

How can it be too cold in a gym? Is it like … those wooden gym things you have in a park? The ones with the old skinny dudes doing chin-ups?

Shit was ridiculous. I finally tracked it down on the last day as we were packing the car, and it’s like a greenhouse inside the pool fence. IT’S NOT OUTSIDE IF IT HAS WALLS. Straight up I swear to you Mr. Wang actually wants me to be fat. He is a filthy sabotager and I loathe him.

* I may also have kind of lost my damn mind on free day this week. The whole thing culminated in me rolling over in bed and whispering across the room PSSST, KIKI. DO YOU FEEL LIKE MACCAS? I ended up persuading her to hop in the Jeep with me in our PJs so we could get through the drive-thru before free day ended. 10 McNuggets and a lean beef burger later I was sleeping like a baby.

There were highlights though. I swear!

* We finally managed to cough up some cash and join a gym. And I won’t lie: it’s pretty sweet. Sure we could have joined a Proper Normal Person gym like Fitness First, but frankly, we’d rather poke each other in the eye. I am all aboard this fitness campaign, but those gyms full of people in little matching crop tops and lycra capri-length leggings that cost $189 for the set from specialist  gymwear stores just really aren’t my thing.

Instead we’re proud new members of Fresh Fitness. It’s on top of a Legion Club and it’s totally us. We are way more the Average Joe’s kind of exercisers than the Globo Gym kind, you know? My fave thing is that the word ‘Sydney’ is misspelled on the website. Awesome.

We may also be the first women ever to go to that gym … ever. And I am totally okay with that. I have absolutely no problem watching guys do weights while I jog. I’m sure no one is surprised by that.

It’s also the first time Kiki has ever seen a Hassidic Jew working out. Welcome to the Eastern Suburbs, darling!

* I also proved something to myself during the week. Whenever people/friends/my family said anything about how my stove looks completely unused and there is nothing in my fridge but Champagne and nailpolish I would say um, I CAN cook. I just … well I choose not to.

And as it turns out, it’s kinda true. I was an excellent housewife during the week, and while Kiki worked on the laptop, I made a kick-ass vegetarian Sang Choi Bow with tofu, shiitake and button mushrooms, Chinese cabbage, hoi sin and cashews. It was edible and everything.

And I dragged my sorry Typhoid ass from bed to make a pretty delicious mini-pizza on a tortilla with potato, tomato, onion and basil tonight too. Sure, maybe my cooking doesn’t look that pretty, but I like it even though it’s ugly.

Seriously every not-ordering-takeaway moment is a victory to me.

I even went down to my parent’s house to borrow a blender so we could make protein pancakes with sweet potato. When I told them I needed it, my mum’s reaction was “oh, are you making cocktails, darling?”

According to my stepdad, though, the whole thing is working, because apparently my “head looks less bloated”.

Confession: we kinda struggled with the pancakes. We got them in the pan and couldn’t figure out why they were so … puffy. All puffy and bubbly like scrambled eggs. Until we remembered that we totally forgot to put in the oats, which are kind of the vital ingredient. Basically we were making a big ole egg white omelette with sweet potato in it. Which meant we had to grab the pan, scrape half-cooked creepy egg things back into the blender – just mush it in there sweetie! it will be fine! - add in the rest, and make Errol special double-cooked idiot pancakes.

Kitchen overseer Hot Bitch Cooper does not approve of this pancake fuckery.

They were delicious.

And our measurements still aren’t exactly Marilyn Monroe 37-23-36 … but we have progress! I am giving myself a lil elephant stamp on the hand as we speak.

We took a full set of measurements two weeks ago and since then I have officially:

Lost 3cm from my upper arm measurement

Lost 1.5cm from my thigh measurement

And gained 2cm around my ass.

I am a teeny bit terrified about exactly how big my ass is gonna get … but I’m not gonna rest till you can store family heirlooms on it like a shelf. THERE. I SAID IT.

Kiki gets a gold star too, she:

Lost  – 2cms off waist

Lost- 2cms off hips

Lost – 1cm off bum

Lost – 1cm off arms

Goal for next week: no midnight maccas.