So the Unislim Food Maximising diet may be one of the most complicated I have ever come across in my whole entire life. Don't get me wrong. I can certainly understand the practicalities of it and see how, in theory, it could work and will report back any successes and failures, but so far I am kinda baffled. I suspect I'll be spending the first week or so of this in a permanent state of confusion and hunger for fear of eating something I'm not supposed to. Or else there will be many moments of throwing the hands up in the air and just eating something that's handy. But I shall do my best to avoid such indiscretions.
Then again, at least there's exercise. The only thing that will ever keep me from turning into a full blown fattie again. Marathon training has (sort of) started. 3 miles tonight along with my long overdue return to boxing. Although the running has yet to fill me with enthusiasm, I'm quite looking forward to some punch-bag time. There are one or two faces I could easily picture while throwing some sissy punches. Fingers crossed, both Unislim and exercise will get me back on some sort of a path to svelteness. Final straw came on Saturday when I ripped my jeans trying to yank them up over a roll of fat. How depressing. Especially considering they are relatively new and how much I love them.
I wonder are my sewing skills on a par with my weight gaining abilities?
Tuesday 7 June 2011
Wednesday 1 June 2011
The sad case of Wheelie-Case
So I'm at the point where I'm beginning to doubt whether I'll ever see my little case again. Ten days on and the "search" continues, though I'm ultra cynical about the fervour of said search by the good folks at Aer Lingus and have no faith whatsoever in the useless shower at Gatwick airport who failed to get the case onto the plane in the first place.
For those of you who are unaware of my predicament, about ten days ago, on returning from the "hen to beat all hens" (broken ankles, hospital visits and the like) I boarded flight EI233 from Gatwick to Dublin, little wheelie case in hand and proceeded to search for a suitable spot in the overhead bins in which to store it. Space in aforementioned bins was unfortunately at a premium that day, so Air Hostess Man suggested I hand wheelie case over to him, where he would ensure it would be placed in the hold, safe and sound, for retrieval at the baggage carousel in Dublin. I duly handed wheelie case over and haven't seen the damn thing since. Grrr.
At this point I have spoken to pretty much every baggage handler that works for Aer Lingus, twice. My cause has been elevated to higher powers (David the duty manager) but with no discernible results. I have filled out a 7 page long document listing the contents and value of everything wheelie case contained and have described these contents ad nauseum to anybody in Dublin Airport who will pick up the phone. Makeup, Camera, Book, Toiletries, Shoes, a whole host of 80s dress up gear, my new denim jacket etc etc...
What makes matters worse is that the photos contained on lost camera are quite simply irreplaceable. Not only did I document pretty much every minute of the Hen festivities. I have also chronicled, in both photo and video format, poor Orna's night. From ankle break to (what turned out to be) premature release from hospital. I have it all. And let me tell you, it's bloody hilarious.
So I am sad. I am wheelie caseless and wheelie case contentsless. Apparently I'm too nice and had I spent the past week shouting and cursing relentlessly down the phone I would have been reunited with wheelie case by now. But this is not the (ahem) "case" and the wait continues.
Boo hiss to Aer Lingus and Gatwick Airport. You suck balls.
For those of you who are unaware of my predicament, about ten days ago, on returning from the "hen to beat all hens" (broken ankles, hospital visits and the like) I boarded flight EI233 from Gatwick to Dublin, little wheelie case in hand and proceeded to search for a suitable spot in the overhead bins in which to store it. Space in aforementioned bins was unfortunately at a premium that day, so Air Hostess Man suggested I hand wheelie case over to him, where he would ensure it would be placed in the hold, safe and sound, for retrieval at the baggage carousel in Dublin. I duly handed wheelie case over and haven't seen the damn thing since. Grrr.
At this point I have spoken to pretty much every baggage handler that works for Aer Lingus, twice. My cause has been elevated to higher powers (David the duty manager) but with no discernible results. I have filled out a 7 page long document listing the contents and value of everything wheelie case contained and have described these contents ad nauseum to anybody in Dublin Airport who will pick up the phone. Makeup, Camera, Book, Toiletries, Shoes, a whole host of 80s dress up gear, my new denim jacket etc etc...
What makes matters worse is that the photos contained on lost camera are quite simply irreplaceable. Not only did I document pretty much every minute of the Hen festivities. I have also chronicled, in both photo and video format, poor Orna's night. From ankle break to (what turned out to be) premature release from hospital. I have it all. And let me tell you, it's bloody hilarious.
So I am sad. I am wheelie caseless and wheelie case contentsless. Apparently I'm too nice and had I spent the past week shouting and cursing relentlessly down the phone I would have been reunited with wheelie case by now. But this is not the (ahem) "case" and the wait continues.
Boo hiss to Aer Lingus and Gatwick Airport. You suck balls.
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