This could be the end of my social life, so I guess I will say goodbye now. You may not have guessed it, but I have just set up my computer in my bedroom. So long, outside world, I am basically going to get you to come to me now. I know small things do amuse me (we all remember the little backpacker I had a thing for, don’t we?) but I just didn’t think I would get so excited about having the world wide web at my finger tips. Heaven!
But this is me, getting off the track again. This week I am talking about my extreme makeover once again. With just over two weeks to my big unveiling, I find myself even more conscious of what I put in my mouth (why start now, you may ask) and how much exercise I am doing.
It was only a couple of weeks ago I was complaining of how much hard work it is and waiting for what seems like the mother lode of adrenalin rushes. Well, let’s just say I am still waiting at the bus stop for that one. But I have noticed things not hanging as much and things getting tighter (get your mind out of the gutter). Maybe that is what the muscle boys are talking about. It’s not so much the drug-like rush, though I have been told that does come. But the rush of seeing results from your hours of training and eating lettuce and water. Clothes are becoming looser and people are coming over and making an effort to comment. It is fabulous, I am slowly changing from the fat chick to the girl with the many stretch marks.
Yes, you heard it, stretch marks. Not only do you have to exercise your arse off but, every chance you have, you need to rub the shit out of yourself with cocoa butter (designed for pregnant woman).
Who would have guessed less than three months ago when I tipped the scales at 93kg that I would have agreed to be a part of this? Now I am a shadow of my former self at 81.6kg. Jesus, that is 11.4kg lighter and fingers crossed I’ll be under the 80kg mark by DIVA night on 22 August.
Thank you to everyone who has come over to say how well I am going. Your support has helped, but remember, I am only on water -“ no alcohol! Also an even bigger thank you to Katy Try, City Gym, Justin and Zoltan. Katy, you are not a trainer, you are a magician.
And to all the rumours that Penny Clifford and I are anorexic, we both have no comment.