Friday, 26 February 2010

Detox my arse

Day 5 now and I have lived through the 2 days of gunk, and was that first shake delicious? You bet it was. The best 'meal' I've had in ages; thick and creamy with lumps of frozen banana surprising me from time to time as I spooned it in, trying desperately not to guzzle, guzzle, guzzle. Savouring is quite hard to do, I find, when you are starving.

Day 3 was the hardest so far - woke feeling hungry and a little weak. 20 minutes later I could have done cartwheels (if I could actually do cartwheels which is a regret I live with) because that vanilla and banana shake was nectar. Yum. And lunch? Chocolate. Sort of. A bar of what looked to be of unsatisfying size, but promising flavour and, let's face it, solid food. I was advised to drink lots of water with the bars. Good advice, because delicious as they are they are obviously designed to be eaten slowly due to their uncanny ability to stick to the roof of your mouth as well as every tooth. But yummy.

It was Day 4 when I realised that it's all a psychological trick. Feed them shite for 2 days and anything tastes nice, then feed them shakes and solids taste nice (whatever they are) then let them actually eat food once a day and it all seems worth it. However, I am still committed. I WILL be slim(mer) by the time I go to the wedding in July (and prior to that lounge around in Rome in skimpy t-shirts). I even have a dress I bought that was in Debenhams sale that has never fit me but it's so, so nice. Blue and cream silk, halter neck, hides fat knees. Perfect. I need new shoes though - dogs have eaten all of mine.

So, Day 5. Bar for breakfast before my gym session. Weighed myself and have lost 4lbs. A drop in the flab ocean but a drop nevertheless. And then I was assaulted by an overpowering desire for a cuppa. I love my cups of Yorkshire tea in the morning. But it's not de-caffeinated. Oh no! That's against the detox rules. But hang on? I haven't detoxed anything yet. How did that pass me by? Or not, so to speak. I've wee'd gallons and I've been on solids for 2 days now (well if you call salad and wild rice solids) so where is all that getting stored? Uh oh. I think I read somewhere, or someone sent an email, or I perhaps heard something like it - tea makes you poo. I'm sure some doctor somewhere, probably America, said that tea was a natural laxative. And Yorkshire tea, due to it's earthy northern origins, developed amongst the pits and ponies must surely be one of the best laxatives? I know - I'll try an experiment and let you all know. I'll sacrifice the no caffeine rule just for the good of you all. I'll force down a few cups of tea and give you a blow by blow account of the outcome.

Tuesday, 23 February 2010


I'm having a week off physio to give my shoulder, my purse and my titties a rest.

In that week I'm doing a detox. I'd like to say that my primary reason for this is to cleanse my body of years of toxins, but of course the real reason is to lose weight even if that weight is waste that has been clinging to my colon for the last 20 years.

This is how it goes - on Day 1 & 2 all I have is 4 drinks of cleansing gunk and lots of water. The drinks of cleansing gunk measure 4oz each. That's half a small glass. Days 3-7 are shakes/bars for 2 meals and then a low calorie 'normal' meal. Sounds unappetising eh? Well I can tell you, after just one day of gunk I can't wait for a vanilla shake with banana and raspberry - sounds like heaven. And a chocolate peanut bar? Mmmmmmmmmmm.

So today is the start of Day 2. Yesterday wasn't too bad really. I only felt mildly hungry, the hardest thing was not picking while I was cooking for the family. Just a little bit of mushroom or a slice of pepper - yum! The only symptom of no food was tiredness - I was dozing on the sofa by 8.30pm, in bed by 9pm, slept like a log. If today is the same this will be a breeze.

Funny, but that last sentence sounds uncomfortably like famous last words........

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

Twitchless titties

So the first time was a fluke. Just my luck.

Yesterday's physio session was much more tame - more pulsing, but pads apparently placed to avoid more titty twitching and concentrate instead on the actual part of my body that needs stimulation. It started with what seemed to be rather useless exercises with a large rubber band and culminated with the taping session.
'Do you have a cross on your bra?'
Hhhmmmm....I had one with polka dots but I couldn't picture one with crosses on.
'Erm.....I don't think so.'
'On the back (he makes an 'X' sign with his hands)?'
I obviously have a blank look on my face.
'Like you use for sports.'
Aha! That sort of bra. I remember throwing one out some months ago because, well, I didn't do any sports.
'No, I'm afraid not.'
'OK - we will try an experiment.'
Uh oh. Not what I really wanted to hear immediately after a discussion about bras.
'Oh? Erm..what sort of experiment?'
He smiled.
'With your bra.'
Now at this point I have to remind you that I am in a strange country with a strange foreigner from yet another country. This is only our third (physio) date for goodness' sake and he wants to experiment with my bra?
Silence is my best response. Only response.
'Turn around and sit down here please.'
I did as I was told trying not to let my mind go crazy thinking bra/experiment/bra/experiment.
So here is what he did to help my year long shoulder problem. He taped my back into a 'comfortable' position with 'better posture'. I read from this that my posture is crap and that he obviously mistook the term 'comfortable' for 'extremely uncomfortable'. THEN he pulled my new La Senza bra straps together at the back (thank god) and wrapped tape ( of the Elastoplast type) around them to form the aforementioned 'X'.
'Keep that on until your next session to see if that helps.' An experiment indeed. He had no idea and hoped to shortcut Nike's years of sports bra development with a bit of tape. Oh and of course I wouldn't be able to shower for 2 days.
I don't think so.
My husband tore the tape off last night with what can only be called relish, although he described it as necessary speed. And a grin. Then he managed to snip off the tape which was yanking in my straps and I was back to normal; humpty-backed and still in pain.
I go for my X-ray tomorrow.....I can't wait.

Saturday, 13 February 2010


We were watching a film the other day where one of the characters had an imaginary friend. Youngest was sitting next to me and as an indicator of a) how she might be settling here and b) her weirdness, I asked if she had an imaginary friend.
'Well....why don't you tell your friends at school you do have one to creep them out?'
'Already have.'
'You have? What's it called?'
That's my girl.

Wednesday, 10 February 2010

Twitchy Titties

Along with a broken foot I have a longstanding 'thing' wrong with my shoulder. I've self-diagnosed as stress, old whiplash injury, and bad posture and have had a half-hearted diagnosis from a doctor who prescribed me pills that turned me into a screaming harradon but didn't do much for my shoulder (although I think I forgot the pain while I was screaming).

Eventually, as per my previous blog, I went to the doctors and was prescribed drugs, physiotherapy and an x-ray. The drugs were pretty good but only lasted 10 days and the physio was deferred due to my broken foot and, to be honest, an inherent disbelief in anything that has therapy in its name. Although I might take chemotherapy seriously if necessary.

So Monday was my first ever physiotherapy session with a Bulgarian therapist. I know this because I asked where his weird name came from. He led me into a curtained room just big enough for a massage table (mmm....goody, I thought) and a chair. He asked me to take off my top but 'leave bra' and put on a hospital gown. After what I suspect was the usual poking, arm raising, yes/no to pain level questions and questions about my lifestyle he said I needed sessions 2 times a week and to lie down.
'When?' I asked
'Now. We are going to get the machine.'
I wondered if it might be a massage machine, after all I was lying on a massage table, but he wheeled in a small contraption with wires, digital displays and instantly recognisable circular pads (I've seen One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest twice). Fortunately the pads were too large for my temples and after placing them on my back he wrapped a large heated toweling sausage around my neck and turned on the juice.
'Woohoo,' I gasped.
'Too much? It needs to be strong but comfortable.' He turned it down a bit to a very comfortable buzz.
'I'll come back in two minutes to turn it up when you are used to it.'
It was lovely. It would have been nicer had I not needed to listen to the moans and groans of my neighbour complaining about some sports injury.
He duly returned and turned it back up to Woohoo level, which I managed to cope with, and left the cubicle again to listen to the moaner.

As I lay there feeling the pulse I realised I could feel it beyond the bounds of the pads, indeed I could feel it right through to the front of my body. Ooohhh...what was this? It was in my titties, and felt quite nice. I opened an eye to look and lo and behold they were actually twitching. Not in time with each other or anything, just randomly. I started to giggle because it felt tickly, because it looked good, and because of the growing hysteria I was feeling at the thought of my (male) therapist coming back. How much longer did I have before he returned and saw my titty dance? What should I say if he came in? Is there anything that would seem appropriate?

Meeeeep! The timer and machine went off. I checked for any residual twitches. Phew!

I go back again today. How much longer can my luck last? Maybe a padded bra today - or no bra and see if they can do the Macarena.

In trying to describe how it felt/looked to my husband this is all I could come up with.

Monday, 8 February 2010

Lake dancing

Well....not quite dancing, more standing very,very still saying 'hurry up' through a grin to my husband who was taking a picture on me as I stood on a frozen lake. An earlier blog suggested this would be one of the last things I would ever do (comes straight before gouging my own eyes out, and eating squid) but I was drawn in by the danger, and my husband's enthusiastic encouragement. It's not every husband who encourages their wife to stand on a frozen lake while they safely stand on land taking photos. Lucky me.

He then took some photos of people DRIVING and CAMPING on said lake. The lake in question is the one in the header of this blog. It's pretty big, and presumably quite deep and to top it off - these campers (for campers, read nutters) drill holes in it! And they camp in little huts they either transport or build there or worse still, great big camper vans. Surely it isn't just me who thinks this is madness?
Me = sane - v - canadians = mad.
Place your bets.

Tuesday, 2 February 2010


I have just discovered House. No time to blog - just got Series 3 out.