Seeds

It's no secret I hate those "inspirational" / "motivational" fitness quote and memes. Most of the ones I see are gung-ho and make no sense, and it doesn't help that the accompanying photo is usually of a virtually naked tight-bodied cow bitch woman.

But one has caught my eye which I like. A lot. It's logical and (against all odds) actually motivates me during that pivotal decision making point. The same point each day, to be exact, i.e. should I exercise today or not? Lol.

So for the immense help on my quest to get some kind of hotness back into this weary baby-production-retiree body, I give a shout out to none other than our very own (yea, I'll claim him on behalf of Samoa) Robert Louis Stevenson. Thanks Bobby. Today's Tabata session goes out to you!

http://behappy.me/dont-judge-each-day-by-the-harvest--you-reap-but-by-the--seeds-that-you-plant

99 Problems

1. Work is out of control busy.

2. I am super lost (i.e. aivalea) at my current work assignment.

3. Having a primary school kid and having to arrange your life around the fact that there is no more full time care for your kid during all your working hours ... it's a new discovery, a new challenge, and my goodness I feel so bad for all you other working parents out there! Let's get together and have a whine-fest (or even better, a wine-fest!)

4. I still haven't won Powerball. Obviously, or problems 1 to 3 would be resolved.

5. Ant is such a boy of a baby. He hasn't given me a smooth complexion, a "glow" or shiny/tamed hair like Lali did. Instead, he has given me a grand appetite for spicy bratwurst, bacon butties, churros and all else that is needed for getting elephantiasis.

6. I work in the middle of Wellington city. You would think that being surrounded by cafes galore it would be easy to find a date scone when you crave one, right? Wrong. I had to walk around in circles, visiting 5 cafes on a rainy morning before I could find one! Not impressed.

7. Our neighbour's visitor parked on the road in such that a way that impeded me from backing out of our driveway the way I wanted to. The hubby wisely volunteered to ask him to move, preventing a mad-preggo-lady altercation and possible charges for destruction of property ( though I would have only removed the rear bumper of his car ... that was part that was poking into our side of the driveway ... )

8. I'm sure I have about 92 or so more gripes on food and fat. Ugh. My sister takes photos from amazing angles that make me look a quarter of the size I am. People see them and say "You look so great! Upload more photos!" No thanks. I will only upload the photos that pass the "Pregnant But In Impossibly Great Shape" criteria. Hence why there aren't many.

9. Looking at Crazy Cakes and Just Desserts Facebook updates is driving me insane with cake cravings. I am refusing to do any baking right now though, because I can see it turning into a slippery slope ... of ganache and whipped cream and buttercream and custard!! Joy.

Two more months. I can do this. Just focus on the prize at the end ... that bowl of oka. Nommmm ...

Eating for two (dozen)

I came across my maternity book from the first pregnancy and in it I found some disturbing figures.

In 30 weeks of pregnancy (from Week 10 to Week 40), I gained a whopping whaling 30 kgs! Oh. Em. Effin. Gee!!

My weight was recorded at all my midwife or doctor appointments, so I could see the progression of the weight gain, and even during the earlier weeks when baby was quite small, I was piling on the pounds.

And I do know why. I ate like a pig. I was nowhere near as nauseous as sickly as this time around, so I ate  whatever and whenever I wanted, justifying it with the "eating for two" mantra. Although I knew at the time this phrase was actually nonsense, what I didn't know was that the extra amount I needed to eat a day to handle mine and baby's energy needs was the equivalent of 1 to 2 slices of bread. Eek. I was eating at least an extra 1 or 2 loaves of bread, and that is not even an exaggeration.

It took a long and unhappy 4 years to start shedding that weight, and this time around I am determined to be much smarter. Prevention is key, I guess. I keep the old maternity book handy now, and when I feel myself losing the battle of the will, I take a glimpse at those weights *shudder* and try to make a better eating choice.

Don't get me wrong, I will eat cake, so help me God! Except now I schedule a day of the week when I will bake or buy what I am craving the most, and enjoy that with the family.

I know that by carrying this alien, I will get fat. But there's no need to get any fatter than necessary, right?

Random thoughts and the f-word

I don't have a cohesive train of thought for blogging today.

Because I'm still so sick *cough cough cough* See?

So today it's random thoughts day.

Random thought 1
I want to get hot for summer. Ok let's make that a realistic goal: I want to get to a weight that is not so obscene to the sight and unkind to the clothes by summer. As I stuff my mouth with the last of my 3rd cheese bun this morning, I wonder how I will do.

Random thought 2
I wonder if I'll ever get to travel to Europe. As much as I would love to, I can't see it being affordable anywhere in the forseeable future, and that's a future where NO family members die, which is honestly very unrealistic. I estimate at least 20 aunts and uncles still alive (on both my side and the hubby's)...that's a lot of sii, pigs, pisupo, povi and cash to be bought/spent/exchanged/loaned/begged. Should I just be one of those fakaga-blonde ones and just spend all my money on myself and then play dumb when family calls for financial assistance? I was not blessed/cursed with such a switch in my brain though.
I'm not down about it though. Honestly. It would be a great thing to do. But I am so immensely blessed that anything on top of what I have now, debts and all, is in the bonus zone. (Besides, I hate flying, and very fussy about accommodation, i.e. no backpackers or camping...as the Laughing Samoans said, I've been camping all my life!)

Random thought 3
I wonder who Lyla will marry, and if he's not Samoan, how he will feel about faalavelave. (Hmm, seems to be a running theme, and perhaps not so random, these thoughts). Actually, I wonder how Lyla will feel about them. I know quite a few NZ born Samoans who are against anything to do with giving family in Samoa money.
e.g. Why do they need a car anyway?
e.g. Dad's in Samoa, but we booked his return flight early so they don't take all his money.

I keep forgetting that Lyla is a Kiwi (vomit...e, that was a JOKE, people. Joke alert!). I guess it's up to us, her parents, to teach her why we do what we do, and what that means for her. I guess I should find out first for myself.
Mum asked me in high school if I was going to marry a South African. HA! I wonder why *ahem*
Thank goodness I married a Samoan.
There's nothing as comforting at the moment you find out your uncle has passed away, as telling your husband "Uncle died" and he nods, not only to acknowledge your grief, but to also approve the funds for your contribution to the maliu.


Ok, that's enough random thinking for the day, because it's quite obvious it's all heading down the same line .. the f-word.

Fat chance

This is what I call this food - misery, instead of muesli. I mean, what is it? I could easily Google/Wikipedia it, but at the moment I am using all my energy and concentration on staying put, in my chair, in my office. Instead of wandering downstairs and hunting me some grub, in some form of delightful South East Asian style fried noodles. Drool.

Today is D-Day. Diet Day. The last attempt at trying to improve eating habits and lose weight on my own. Over the weekend I had decided that this week I would call Jenny Craig. I couldn't go on like this, I needed help. (Let me just add that you shouldn't make such decisions after a massive yum cha overindulgence session). Anyway, last night I was doing some last minute Googling to see how much it would be. Funnily enough, Jenny Craig's website FAQ had the question posted, but the "answer" was a waffly "it depends on the program" type of statement. The results of my investigation was as expected. I would have to fork out more money for the program per week than our family's grocery shopping budget. Sigh.

So here goes my last attempt at DYI weight loss. I'm giving myself one week to try and improve my eating habits, before I make that Jenny-call. Hopefully now that I've told the world (my world of 8 people) I will feel some sort of accountability. Fat chance.

Which brings me to today's breakfast. Muesli. I stared at it and poked at it a few times. And now I've decided I'm not eating it. I'll get myself some fibry bark-tasting bread to make toast tomorrow.

So starts the period of depressed, hungry, angry blogging...while I attempt to purge my brain of the delights of buttery pastries, spicy fried noodles, rich curries and heavenly chocolate.


(and in case you were wondering, yes, that is a rock that I keep on my work desk)