It’s over…Oprah Day is sadly behind us, Oprah has left our Country & most of us have forgotten the original pronunciation of The Oprah House. She loved us sick & we loved her sick back. And despite a minor hiccup-the near fatality of our national treasure: Hugh Jackers, all appeared to go splendidly; Sydney turned it on like a charm; Gail & O seemed to be having the time of.
God, I would have loved to have met up with those two & just chewed the fat (mull over things; swap stories) over a few bevs (beverages of an alcoholic nature) & just hung (be). Gail looks fuun (really fun) & if we can’t get her hooked up here; where can we? I ask you? I mean she’s a bloody catch & half plus Oprah’s best friend to boot. Hell, I think I want to be Gail...who doesn’t.
Having grown up with Oprah; I’ve laughed with her, cried with her, yo-yo dieted with her; learnt how people live in other parts of the world, I've been transported by life stories of incredible endurance & heart; she has made me want to contribute (I now have a Congolese sister) & reminds me by example to really appreciate what I have …I mean it was not unusual for me to start a sentence with …” You know I was watching the Oprah Show the other day &...” So I gotta tell you; I was absolutely devo (devastated) to not be part of the 12,000 stoked (elated) fans that walked on air with their pink wristbands towards the Oprah House on Tuesday. Devo!!
I only had myself to blame, I lamented as I wistfully watched the teeve while Oprah took to the stage with mass vitality, exclaiming her love for “Osstralia” to a screaming throng of thousands; the love was palpable…
If I had have been living my best life, maybe I would have registered on time & had a chance or if I was just being my authentic self (actually I think I was being my authentic self) I would have entered my 50 word competition entry to 7pm Project as to why I deserved O tickets, before the closing date (it was so in the bag: had already visualized my win & how I would surprise Mum…it would have been the best day of our life).
So, what would Oprah do in a situation like this? Would she mope around, calling at regular intervals her other depressed friend: “I told you…we should have registered…” Or would she learn from this missed opportunity? I think we know the answer to that one peeps…
I’ve got to stop procrastinating, stop be a scaredy pants (living in fear) & take life by the horns; dive in the deep end. I can’t forever be the bystander thinking, “If only…” And more importantly, I need love the fact that I’ve have already won the lottery of life: I live & was born in “Osstralia!” Damn straight!
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Noosa:Revisited
So here we are again, back at the scene of the crime- Noo-oosa. It was just over a year ago that we were sitting in a spa together (hub & I) where we kind of sealed the deal on the whole kids thing. A tentative date had been set to get the ball in motion (last Christmas we were supposed to “try”) but here we are right back at square one, no trying, not much practicing & no baby on the horizon. Instead this little vacance is to celebrate the momentous occasion of hub finishing his 4-year diploma in Building Studies. Four years of studying 3-4 nights a week, juggling full time work, mountains of homework & the stress of exams: over!! And so nearly was our marriage...yep, no postings for the last couple of months as the whole baby thing was pushed waay into the background and who wants to read about someone pissing & moaning about their marriage? But for the record: I have learnt that marriage is a rocky terrain fraught with many perils, much like a road trip with albeit some incredible scenery; but with also heaps of underwhelming pit stops & near on road disasters, which no one tells you about until you’ve signed up for the whole frigging trip. Some holiday…
A year ago, hub was on another road trip that could only best be described as the fast lane to Fatsville. He was stacking it on & had been going down the slippery slope to obesity at an alarming pace. Who am I to point the finger, you may ask? Sure, hardly a slip of a girl, always a bit more to love but I was still hanging in there - hadn’t dropped the ball completely & lets face it: I’m a girl with curves but when your husband becomes curvy; that’s a whole different story.
Men do not wear weight well. There- I said it. Biologically speaking, they actually produce more estrogen when they chub out so in actual fact my husband was turning into a woman & anyone who has ever met me can firmly attest: I like guys. So juggling with this sensitive topic of a husband who was now voluptuous & no longer fitting into his clothes, was for me, unchartered territory. I mean, what’s the protocol here, when your husband asks if he looks fat in a shirt that now barely does up?
“No sweetie…you look just big, like muscly big…yea that’s why everything is too tight; its just muscle?” So went his self-esteem. Weight gain makes you feel like shit. Guy or girl: you feel fat, frumpy & totally unsexy & of course like most vices it’s a vicious cycle. I just felt like telling him: “Girlfriend, you listen to me now, you ha got to stop that comfort eatin coz le me tell you somethin, that kinda eatin ain’t bringing you no comfort...for real.” But instead I made him an appointment at the beginning of this year with an attractive dietician – Joanna McMillan whose Scottish lilt would hopefully lull him into obedience. And, hello, it did: one visit- just a one hour consultation with a few meal plans scrawled on two pieces of paper including some exercise instructions & he was done. A changed man. He no longer snacked on bag full’s of fun-sized Bounty bars, slabs of beer didn’t fill our fridge, cheese wasn’t grated on all & sundry, toast was reserved for Sunday morning only & steamed vegetables with tuna became his staple. He even went to the gym (a membership that had been dormant for well over a year) four times a week! Before long he was totally hooked; shedding the soft outer layers, his rounded face that had the jolliness of someone settled in their 50’s was now defined; I could see his features, blue eyes, pouty lips, my God-he was getting his looks back; he was returning to his manhood…I liked it & apparently, so did he. He was born again & it didn’t take long for him to start telling whoever would listen just what a changed man he had become.
Shortly after his sister had become a new mum, we had the fam over for dinner & like most new mums she was dealing with the aftermath on her body & grappling with the reality she barely had time to shower; “I weigh more than when I was pregnant” she lamented, “I’m so busy with Violet that I just tend to eat biscuits or chocolate to give me energy…”
Cue: probably not the best time to gloat shamelessly on victorious weight loss. Not one to miss an opportunity though, hub launches into: “That was the old me (did you just give birth) but I cant even remember the last time I had chocolate. Don’t miss it though. Now that I’m fit, I’m now totally hooked on the gym & eating light. I just feel great. Don’t even think I could eat that shit now I mean my body just wouldn’t handle it. I just love my steam veggies & tuna… lost another kilo this week…down to 75 now…just really working on building muscle. Got nothing to wear though. I mean everything in the wardrobe is just too big. My pants are falling off me…”
And the regurgitated compliments? They were coming in thick & fast: “Laura just couldn’t believe how much weight I’ve lost… she nearly didn’t recognise me & she just kept on saying ‘my God you’ve lost sooo much weight…you look great…I mean how much have you lost?’ And then I said…” Hmm hmmm. He was loving himself sick & it was becoming gratuitous
So, we arrived at Shez (Sheraton) Noosa a week ago. Shortly after checking into our room in all it’s early 90’s gold hued glory, hub stands on the balcony, wistfully looking out over the pool towards the flecks of ocean beyond & says: “Last time we were here… I was 13kilos heavier…can’t believe I was so fat…I just feel so good now…so lean…I mean my boardies are practically falling off me…there is a gym here, right? Might get down there later...”
Yep, give me some more of that talk.
So… people, be careful of what you wish for because if it doesn’t rain…it pours…Amen.
A year ago, hub was on another road trip that could only best be described as the fast lane to Fatsville. He was stacking it on & had been going down the slippery slope to obesity at an alarming pace. Who am I to point the finger, you may ask? Sure, hardly a slip of a girl, always a bit more to love but I was still hanging in there - hadn’t dropped the ball completely & lets face it: I’m a girl with curves but when your husband becomes curvy; that’s a whole different story.
Men do not wear weight well. There- I said it. Biologically speaking, they actually produce more estrogen when they chub out so in actual fact my husband was turning into a woman & anyone who has ever met me can firmly attest: I like guys. So juggling with this sensitive topic of a husband who was now voluptuous & no longer fitting into his clothes, was for me, unchartered territory. I mean, what’s the protocol here, when your husband asks if he looks fat in a shirt that now barely does up?
“No sweetie…you look just big, like muscly big…yea that’s why everything is too tight; its just muscle?” So went his self-esteem. Weight gain makes you feel like shit. Guy or girl: you feel fat, frumpy & totally unsexy & of course like most vices it’s a vicious cycle. I just felt like telling him: “Girlfriend, you listen to me now, you ha got to stop that comfort eatin coz le me tell you somethin, that kinda eatin ain’t bringing you no comfort...for real.” But instead I made him an appointment at the beginning of this year with an attractive dietician – Joanna McMillan whose Scottish lilt would hopefully lull him into obedience. And, hello, it did: one visit- just a one hour consultation with a few meal plans scrawled on two pieces of paper including some exercise instructions & he was done. A changed man. He no longer snacked on bag full’s of fun-sized Bounty bars, slabs of beer didn’t fill our fridge, cheese wasn’t grated on all & sundry, toast was reserved for Sunday morning only & steamed vegetables with tuna became his staple. He even went to the gym (a membership that had been dormant for well over a year) four times a week! Before long he was totally hooked; shedding the soft outer layers, his rounded face that had the jolliness of someone settled in their 50’s was now defined; I could see his features, blue eyes, pouty lips, my God-he was getting his looks back; he was returning to his manhood…I liked it & apparently, so did he. He was born again & it didn’t take long for him to start telling whoever would listen just what a changed man he had become.
Shortly after his sister had become a new mum, we had the fam over for dinner & like most new mums she was dealing with the aftermath on her body & grappling with the reality she barely had time to shower; “I weigh more than when I was pregnant” she lamented, “I’m so busy with Violet that I just tend to eat biscuits or chocolate to give me energy…”
Cue: probably not the best time to gloat shamelessly on victorious weight loss. Not one to miss an opportunity though, hub launches into: “That was the old me (did you just give birth) but I cant even remember the last time I had chocolate. Don’t miss it though. Now that I’m fit, I’m now totally hooked on the gym & eating light. I just feel great. Don’t even think I could eat that shit now I mean my body just wouldn’t handle it. I just love my steam veggies & tuna… lost another kilo this week…down to 75 now…just really working on building muscle. Got nothing to wear though. I mean everything in the wardrobe is just too big. My pants are falling off me…”
And the regurgitated compliments? They were coming in thick & fast: “Laura just couldn’t believe how much weight I’ve lost… she nearly didn’t recognise me & she just kept on saying ‘my God you’ve lost sooo much weight…you look great…I mean how much have you lost?’ And then I said…” Hmm hmmm. He was loving himself sick & it was becoming gratuitous
So, we arrived at Shez (Sheraton) Noosa a week ago. Shortly after checking into our room in all it’s early 90’s gold hued glory, hub stands on the balcony, wistfully looking out over the pool towards the flecks of ocean beyond & says: “Last time we were here… I was 13kilos heavier…can’t believe I was so fat…I just feel so good now…so lean…I mean my boardies are practically falling off me…there is a gym here, right? Might get down there later...”
Yep, give me some more of that talk.
So… people, be careful of what you wish for because if it doesn’t rain…it pours…Amen.
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