Bewildered, Confused and Unislimmed

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?

El Clásico

There is a chance I may have sufficiently recovered from Saturday night’s antics to remain articulate enough to get this post together. I’m not going to lie; it’s been a rough few days. The damage I took such joy inflicting upon myself over the weekend, seems to have been so great that 4 days later I still have lingering pains and a general sense of unease. I believe however, that the uneasiness may only increase over the next few days as the realisation that I may have to do it all again while cluck clucking around Clonakilty at Fay’s hen smacks me harder in the face every day. Perhaps, as I am a grown-up, I could see about taking a few lessons from “Sloshed Saturday”, applying what I’ve learned and concentrate on returning from the People’s Republic slightly less dishevelled and disgraced than last weekend...perhaps, perhaps not. We shall see.

So I’m currently settled on the couch, clad in PJs, cuppa in hand, watching football and wondering whether the headache that had plagued me for the past two days has finally gone away. I haven’t been able to figure out whether I was still hungover (aka dehydrated), had some business going on with my sinuses or simply just “stressed” (not likely). Whatever the cause, I’ve been bothered and I don’t like being bothered. The good news is that two days of a dull thud finally spurred me to get up off my ass and head out for a run. I haven’t been out since I got back from Espana and that’s pretty disgraceful considering I recently agreed to do the marathon again.  I reasoned that whatever the cause, a few miles pounding the pavement was likely to improve matters and so far so good. I have to say, even though I was suffering with a serious case of the belly-wobbles, I very much enjoyed my run in the sunshine. It seemed as though the whole of Dublin was out, smiles on faces, making the most of the weather and the various goings on also had me grinning from ear to ear - the family in the convertible, singing along to the radio at the top of their lungs; the guy, perched on his bike, who’d stopped for a big dirty ’99 on his way home;  schoolkids on their holls making the most of their days off and of course all the happy smiley dogs, overjoyed just to be in the park chasing balls, sticks and one another.

On my return home, I finally got stuck back into the “30 Day Shred”. Owtch. About a week late, but better now than never I suppose. The very intimidating Ms. Michaels had been working miracles on me prior to my sojourn in La Coruna, but 3 weeks away from shredding and all the good work was very rapidly reversing itself.  I decided to just go back to level 1, start there and see how I went. This was a bit sickening to be honest,  as I'd pretty much just finished level 2 three weeks ago before going away and eating and drinking my way around Spain. Funny thing is, I only put on about 3lbs on my epicurean (gluttonous) “holiday” , but I feel like it's so much more. Everything seems to be jiggling again. This leads me to understand that even when I do finally complete level 3, I can't simply stop. It really doesn't take much for all those inches lost and the tightness gained to turn to flab again.  Woe is me – it really is a never ending struggle.

Speaking of never ending struggles, I’m beginning to tire of watching Barcelona play Real Madrid. Ooh, maybe I take that back. As the “Special One” so often predicts, one of his boys, Pepe, has just been sent off. And now Mourinho himself seems to have been sent to the stands for good measure. Actually, tonight has been nothing short of thunderous from the start. The third of the El Clásico tetralogy (thank you The Guardian from teaching me a new word today) has been an exhibition of frayed tempers and pretty dyer football from the outset. This series of 4 matches promised so much and yet is delivering so little. Perhaps these two great teams are saving themselves for the finale next Tuesday. I think boxing may have to be rearranged just in case the fourth El Clásico actually becomes a classic. Still, I can sit here imagining I’m back in Spain, beer in hand and Tapas in front of me with shouts of “joder” echoing  around the bar with wild gesticulating to match. Vamos Barca! Time to squish Los Blancos.

Whoop whoop 1-0. Messi you beauty, el guapo! It's like you were listening to me.

And now it's 2. Messi again. Little genius.