a minor setback

I was all set to be all happy and excited about Day 1 of Marathon training, aka being allowed to go for a walk, until I tripped over our stupid dog because it was dark and Noddie and I and the stupid dog were walking beside an unmade road and some stupid hoon was bearing down on us and I'm not as nimble as Steven Bradbury.

Now the ankle is a bit bruised and swollen and it's a bit painful to drive. I didn't twist it though so I Am Not Worried Or Upset At All nononononooooo. I just have to be very patient and careful for a bit longer.
More anon, last men standing!

Want want want

Soon, my darlings, soon there will be a post that doesn't start with my foot hurts and my chest and sinuses are horribly infected and I feel like a limp dishrag but I'm being patient and I'm sure things will get better. I swear there will.
But all is not a vale of tears in the existence of LBTEPA. Ice and antibiotics are working their magic, and Day 1 of Marathon Training surely cannot be far off. And *squeals and girly handflaps* GUESS WHAT ??? I WENT FOR A RIDE ON MY BIKE ON SUNDAY!!!!! I was going to ride to the pool to do my superfun(not) workout but then Noddie wanted to come and then she wanted to keep on riding and then when we went home 20 minutes later (twenty whole minutes oh how the mighty have fallen eh?) the infected-chest headspins decided to kick in so I had a rest instead. But you have to start somewhere, no? And OHMYWORDHOWFUNISRIDINGYOURBIKE??????? It's pretty scary to feel so weak and have so very far to go to get back into any sort of shape, but I'm starting to feel as though I might be up for it.
You know what I want? There's a rail path that crosses the highway about 10km from our house. I want to be able to run there and back most weeks.I want to be able to swim 2km without feeling it the next day and be able to ride my bike for a couple of hours without thinking about it. I want to feel cheerful and strong and not get sick so often. And I want some of this.

Not the beer - I'm Dry this July, as you know (It's going very well, thanks for asking! Could you spare a fiver for a good cause?  Just click here) - the bling! How nice is that Gold Coast bling?
I said to the Spousal Unit the other day that I probably won't do the Gold Coast Marathon again becuase it's in July and I get sick a lot in the winter which messes with my training and my head - but then I saw this year's medal and the WANT really kicked in...oh my....soooo cool.....none of that outrageous same-sized medal with different paint and ribbon BS that Melbourne pulls.
But I digress.
I know what I want. There's a very long way to go - I haven't walked more than 2km for months, 400m is my limit in the pool and I mentioned my epic first bike outing...le sigh.... As my five faithful readers know, tThe LBTEPA method for getting what you want is keep working and keep smiling. It's worked for me a lot of the time, so I'm going to stick with it. All I have to do it get the foot and the sinuses and chest to co-operate and we're good as gold!
What do you want? And how do you plan to get it?
More anon, froth-heads!

ABCI

This weekend Noddie and the Spousal Unit and I had our long-awaited and super-fab trip to the big smoke during which we went to the zoo, Sandown racetrack for J to do his stunt driving course, and to the Museum to see the Afghanistan Treasures, which were absolutely stunning and very moving and should be seen by everyone. We ate yummy Chinese, Greek, Vietnamese and Italian food in buzzy, delicious-smelling restaurants, and went shopping in Smith St, and generally had a happy and satisfying time.

I'd love to be posting all about how I've been diligently adhering to the LETTER of my rehab and I do feel very very bad that I haven't, but I have been cruelly struck down with yet Another Chest Infection (So Over It- this post's title should be AFCI). Keeping the New Job and the family going whilst remaining upright and smiling (for, as you know, that is the LBTEPA Way) has taken almost everything I've had. I've not missed more than two days in a row blah blah blah excuses excuses so I'm hoping the physio gives the all-clear to cycling and maybe the elliptical, even some walking...how nice will it be to be Allowed Out....?

Hope you are all well - what have you been up to?
cheers (with ginger beer)

She's at it again

Yes, LBTEPA is drying out for a month (and a long month too, none of this namby-pamby February nonsense [which is Not Going To Happen because my birthday, wedding anniversary and summer are in February and quite frankly in summer charitable self-denial doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell against the lightly-clad, slightly sweaty juggernaut that is warm-weather hedonism]) for charity, health and a challenge to the currently rather flabby LBTEPA self-discipline. As my five faithful readers know, I am fond of a sherby, so this will be A Good Thing in many ways. In the spirit of tightrope-walking across Niagara Falls in a blindfold because it's Just Not Hard Enough otherwise, I will also add a No Bleating clause to the deal - I whinge about choosing to refrain from communing with my good friends chardy and bubbles on any form of social media whatsoever, I match whatever's been donated. Whaddya reckon?
Click here to guilt me into keeping at it donate money for support services for adult cancer patients. I'm off to the pool now. It's a quiet time of day and the lifeguards could do with some amusement. I live to serve.

More anon, splashers!
(and don't forget to click!)

Head-spin

I went to the physio the other day, as you do, and I was telling her about the amusement I provide to the lifeguards with my endless wading and hopping and deep water running with a pool noodle that looks like a waggy yellow tail
and she said
they'll be laughing on the other side of their faces when you cross your next marathon finish line
.
.
.
and I said, do you really think I'll do another one?
and she said briskly (she's a brisk woman), there's no reason why not. It's healing beautifully and has a great range of motion. Once you can hop you can start cycling and running, and that shouldn't take more than another three weeks
.
.
.
It. Was. Good. News!
I was literally speechless. All I could do was shake my head and try not to get all teary (see 'brisk', above)
I can't remember the last time I've had good ankle news. I had quite a lot of bad news, as you know, and recently some pleasantly hopeful and even promising news. Good news! I'm not sure I know what to do now! Can I summon the energy or even remember how to be  happy and gung-ho and hopeful and disciplined? I shall give it a crack though. You watch.

More anon, space cowboys!

Scout's honour

I'm taking this as my motto today

Feeling a bit discouraged about my athletic life (at the moment consisting of deep water running with a bit of wading thrown in, plus getting sicker and sicker (stupid chest infection Will Not Go) and heavier and heavier, which is a drag hahahaha did you see what I did there?) but Not Giving In. For that is not the LBTEPA way.
What's your motto? Why?
More anon, smilers!

Complicated and intense

That was intense. And complicated.
A good day, though, and an important day. 

 

The survivors' club. Relieved and exhausted smiles.

It was well done. Thanks for saying so.

So glad we all made it through in one piece

 

I'm still really churned up. I feel like bursting into tears a lot. I think all the sadness and worry that had to be desperately squashed down so I could keep everything going is starting to bubble out, now that it's safe. I'm fine though. Just happy and so so tired. I'm ready for the next adventure now.

More anon, glitterbugs!

Live long and prosper

Should any of my five faithful readers be so lacking in diverting activities as to be inclined to read aallllll the way back through the last five or six years of the Chronicles of LBTEPA (PLEASE DON'T. somuchwhining) they would note a common theme of posts from this time of year, to whit: I AM SICK. Noddie is sick. We are the house of broken sleep and phlegm. Buy panad0l shares. The weather has turned and I've caught a bug and my sinuses have embraced it like a long-lost brother. Aha! It must be May!
Interestingly, realising this makes it easier to manage without diving into the (very tiring) I don't manage my health I am a bad weak person and should try harder pool. I need to rest and take my wonderful wonderful antibiotics , and maybe, just maybe, try and take this all into account if I ever decide to do a winter marathon again. I'll hit the (real) pool again on the weekend.
This leads me to another really cool thing that's happened lately.
I'm having a bit of a phase of really really cool things happening lately, aren't I? I'm thoroughly enjoying and appreciating every minute of it too! But I digress.
The other day I was watching the Port Macquarie Ir0nman on tv and I was thinking about what Ironman I would do if I ever did one - Busselt0n is just so very far, Melbourne sells out, Port Macquarie is very hilly and gravity and I and the bike just don't get on. No big thing, one might think; just an idle reverie. But it's not so long ago that I couldn't even think about racing or even exercising again. I still can't, not properly, but my mind isn't flicking away instinctively from the painfully terrifying thought of what I never...?  that tangled around even the smallest ideas of riding or running. I think I protected that little tiny hope from the monster avalanche of fear in my head by hiding it deeply away. I couldn't let it out for fear it might be lost. But it's a persistent little bugger, God bless it, and it seems safe enough now to give it a bit of air and sunshine. We'll see what happens.
The extra really super cool thing about to happen is that I'm zooming off to the big smoke this arvo to catch up with the survivors of my Master's course for a lovely bitchfest dinner and catch-up, and then on Thursday I'm graduating!! A mortarboard at last! They didn't hand that pointy headgear out willy-nilly to high school students and undergrads in my day, dearies, oh no they didn't. I've waited a very long time for this. We're all very excited, especially Noddie as she (naturally) needed a new outfit.
Here's to stunning new phases, darls!

More anon

Don't be like that

As you may or may not be aware, many exciting things have been happening on planet LBTEPA. I have shed The Boot! Matching shoes will catch on, I just know it. And *squeals and girly handflaps* I have resigned from my job !!!!!! and will be striking out solo in the new few weeks. I always thought Having Your Own Business was something Other People did so I am finding this all quite disconcerting - but in a Good Way. I feel very happy about it.

I am writing today about something else that happened. It was on effbbee, that great revealer of true natures (alas). There's a bloke I've known for years who I've been pleased enough to call 'friend'. We used to run together, I'd see him around at races, he seemed really positive to the back o'the packers such as myself - generally a good bloke.
He is, alas, prone to posting  on the aforementioned social media site those postcard thingos dissing the unfit and the lardy. The wording on his most recent one was 'You're fat. I'm not going to sugar coat it 'cause you'd eat that too'.
I thought that wasn't very nice.
So I messaged this bloke privately to say that before he posted fat-dissing posts, he might like to think of how hurtful they could be to his lardy friends (such as myself and the Mighty Emma), and that I hoped to see him around at a finish line sometime soon.
I received no reply. Not long afterward I happened to see that he had posted the following:
"someone" sent me a private message, saying they did not like what I post on my facebook page?????????????? it is ''my facebook page'' and ''I will post on ''my'' facebook page what ''i'' like to post on ''my'' facebook page"
There was more in that vein, followed by 36 comments basically flaming me for having the manners and the guts to call him privately on his nasty bullshit.


Effbee is so convenient.

But I was also a little bit sad. I'd thought better of this bloke. As I said, I've known him for some years. And I'd paid him the respect of assuming he had been inadvertently offensive and that he cared about me as a person. So there you go.
Shaming and dissing a fat person isn't going to make that person want to stop eating sugar and take up ultras. It's going to lose you a friend and make the world just the tiniest bit sadder. Classy, gracious people - such as you, my five faithful readers - say sorry when they realise they've hurt someone. They live by their values and show their big hearts. I love having such people in my life. They (you)  make me try to be a better person.

I think this is the moral of the story.
More anon, treasures

Two shoes!

No more boot - only a brace! It's a happy day!
Now to head to the pool and walk across it a few times whoopeefrickendonoIneversaidthat
Physio says, LBTEPA does......

More anon, snail-pacers!

Lots of love on mother's day

I don't think you have to have given birth to be a Mum. If we're lucky, we've had someone in our lives, at some time, who's made us feel safe and valued and as though, although the world is big and scary, it's still full of joy and beauty and adventure that we can be part of if we work hard and are brave (and CLEAN UP OUR ROOMS).

This is for all those women.

 

I told the Spousal Unit that what I wanted for mother's day was a push around the Mother's day Classic course so I could have my "10 year streak". I thought he would laugh or roll his eyes or something. It sounded pretty stupid even to me. I think I was just so sad that the prawns were going to steal my 10-in-a-row as well as everything else they've taken.
A digression: I know I can't blame crustaceans for my weight gain and depression and lost fitness, every action was my decision and I should have tried harder, but sometimes I do. I think the saddest thing I've learned about myself since I broke my ankle is that I'm not as iron-willed-invincible as I hoped I would be if something like this ever happened. If I'm not, if I'm so lame as to get myself into this mess, then how will I be able to get myself out of it? But (as I mentioned) I digress.

The Spousal Unit borrowed a wheelchair from work

We signed up, got a posse together, including my awesome Mum, and off we went. It was very odd to be completely in someone else's hands. Especially since, as my mum put it, J didn't so much push the chair as drive it! Gosh he's strong.
I noticed strong feelings of shame arising as I sat there being pushed along. I think the shame was 'I'm not this fat person who can't run! I'm not!' But I am, that's the fact of it. It is what it is, and I have to grapple with the meaning I've assigned to this fact. Weight gain and physical weakness are NOT failures or faults. How I am right now has to be ok. It usually is, but today was pretty confronting.
I was also confronted by the fact that the mother's day run last year was when I realised that my ankle was actually quite buggered. It's now a full year since I've run around the lovely river track near my house, or indeed anywhere much at all. I felt quite irritable a lot of the time, but I don't think anyone noticed becuase it was such a beautiful day and everyone was in such a good mood.  Mum got talking to a woman who'd had foot surgery 6 months ago and wasn't walking properly yet OMG my head nearly exploded; if I'd been able to run away I would have. shedidn'thavethesamesurgeryasmeI'msureofitlalalanotlistening
So overall a funny-sad-confusing-happy day full of love.

    

I don't know why that woman is staring at us like that.AND I DON'T CARE.

  

(Noddie came too, but instantly found some friends she liked better than us and went around with them. They went really fast, she said, and we told her we were proud of her.Then we went to the pub for lunch and bubbles with the in-laws and some other friends, and then we had a Very Quiet Afternoon).

 

I have ten of these now. One for every year I've been a Mum. Thankyou J, for not listening when I said it was a stupid idea and it ws too much trouble and I wasn't going. This is the best mother's day I've ever had.

Do you have a stupid idea? Maybe it's not very big, but you really want it, right inside your heart, and you'll be really sad if it doesn't happen? That you don't want to admit to becuase other people will laugh? Well listen to me, my five faithful readers: let it out, into the daylight. Give it some air - tell people you want it. You'll see that even if they do laugh, or they're dismissive or their eyes glaze over, the little dream is still sparkling there. It's your dream. It's your heart.  And that makes it perfect.

And they might not laugh. They might cheer you on. Or even help you.

More anon, streakers!

two steps forward

Mobile eftpos machine, business cards, bank account - tick
Medicare number, practice management software, rug - tick
Charming print of zen garden, new (serious business lady) boots, clock - tick hahahahahaha see what I did there?
Weights, exercise bike, core work - tick
Suddenly extremely sore and tender ankle, rush trip to Melbourne to see the surgeon and two weeks extra in the boot - tick. Boo! But all turned out to be well and I bought a new dress so no worries.

 In other news, a woman I work with was going on about how she told someone she had gained 10kg and they just nodded and said mmmmm instead of no! that can't be true! and she was all upset. I took her aside and shared the LBTEPA Secret Method for Gaining 10kg (if you must):
1. Buy some bigger clothes so you are comfy and look nice.
2. Wear Fabulous Lipstick At All Times (especially important if you are temporarily unable to wear fabulous shoes), and, most importantly,
3. DON'T MENTION IT. Extensive research by the LBTEPA Institute of Living Well Is The Best Revenge has shown that people are far more likely to focus on kindness, charm, and fabulousness than on lard.
Trust me.


More anon, hoppy-go-kickers!

squeals and girly handflaps!!!

Well.
This isn't really a 'my life' blog but since you, my five faithful readers, have borne so much bleating about the Masters That Ate My Life etc etc over the years, I feel it is right to share some Brilliant News now that I have some.
After a, shall we say, somewhat unsatisfying conversation with my employers regarding an appropriate change in my remuneration following the hard-earned acquisition of all my Official Bits Of Paper, the Spousal Unit and I combined a nice lunch out with a bit of a cruise of local office spaces. An exploratory exercise, mind you. Just looking. And then we were in The Perfect Office. High ceilings, big windows, huge passing foot traffic, good price. Not horrible paint. And then we went back to look again after my physio appointment (of which more later). And then I was saying it's great, we'll have a think about it and ring you back this afternoon
and then the Spousal Unit started shaking his head and mouthing no, we'll take it now.
and I was all what?
and he was all no, let's just do it
and I was all really?
and he was all yes!!!
So we did!
And then we bought a laptop and a phone and professional indemnity insurance and business cards and some nice chairs with flowers on them and organised an eftpos machine and applied for a new medicare number.I should be open for business by the end of this month. It's really happening! I can't believe it, but the chairs are being delivered next week so it must be true.
*fans self*

In other, even more ace news (if that's possible), my physio is very happy with my ankle and that means I am too. I engage diligently in fun exercises such as pointing my toes up and down and turning my foot outward. Turning it inward is a treat to be anticipated, but that happy day will come, my pretties. Oh yes it will. My spare time is now filled with standing on my right leg with my eyes shut - quite tricky - working on my core and upper body with my home weights, and joy of joy, a bit of sweating on the exercise bike!! Yay!! Part of me is horrified and deeply saddened by how (I was going to say lame hahahaha) pathetic these small steps are, and how frighteningly far there is to go, but there it is. I must walk the yellow brick road one step at a time, no? Wearing pretty shoes and in the company of friends (however hairy, creaky or flammable they might be).

More anon, ruby slipper dancers!

The boot

The LBTEPA Press Office has released the following report:
LBTEPA is finding this whole return-to-weight-bearing thing rather more painful and upsetting than expected. She is sleeping quite poorly becuase the boot keeps getting tangled in the sheets and deciding in the middle of the night that it wants to cut off circulation to her foot. LBTEPA feels like crying a lot of the time, but is, for the most part, maintaining the stiff upper lip that we would expect let's please not mention the broken guitar string sookfest. She is adhering conscientiously to physiotherapy protocols and is fully aware that that This Will Pass.
LBTEPA would like to thank the Spousal Unit for his tremendous support, and for passing the cab sauv when necessary.
Physio on Tuesday.
More anon, hoppy-go-luckies!

All the answers

I have been meaning to write for a while but then the bombing at the Boston marathon happened, and there was nothing to say.
Then I went to Melbourne to see the surgeon and get the plaster off and get a 'boot' fitted'. I'm doing everything as per instructions, of course, but struggling a bit emotionally becuase I want to be All Better Right Now and strangely enough that's not happening. Very odd.
I have a much longer post to write about What The Surgeon Said (not very reassuring) and My Plucky Response (in short: **** you, sport, just watch me) but it's 11.30pm and I've been putting off going to bed becuase these boot/weight-bearing shenanigans have been quite a lot more painful than I expected and I'm hoping that stronger drugs+ really tired might get me a longer stretch in the land of nod. I'm perfectly ok but not terribly cheery.
I do think that you, my five faithful readers, will be proud of my current Plan. As has already been demonstrated, responses from acquaintances with regard to my hoppiness have not been uniformly supportive (and my word there has been some gold medal tactlessness since I came back to work on crutches, you wouldn't believe it). That's indubitably their stuff, but in my state of weary, worried sookiness I'm not up to dealing with it. I have developed a set of responses to the most common instances of unbelievably intrusive rudeness enquiries as to my health which are not untruthful but do not render me quite so vulnerable to careless nastiness. I think they're good.
1. I broke my ankle last year and it didn't heal properly so I had to have a bit of surgery
2. I. Was. Buying. Prawns. Yes. Buying prawns. No. Not running. There's a certain type of rather fixed smile I use with this one that is quite effective in getting people to STFU
3. It's a bit sore sometimes but not too bad.
4. Metamucil and plenty of water is doing the trick. I kid you not, I have been asked about this more than once
5. It's too early to tell yet, we'll see when the boot comes off. I hope so though.
6. Don't be an arse, it doesn't suit you. It is absolutely essential to smile pleasantly and refrain from striking the person when using this

I want this t-shirt

So what have you been up to? Tell me all!
More anon, slumber-seekers!

Happy New Year

It was exactly a year yesterday since the Great Prawn Disaster of 2012, (it hardly seems like a minute, does it? *laughs bitterly*) and the LBTEPA Institute for Truthfulness in Blogging hereby states that yes, our heroine did indulge in a day of sookiness and self-pity. She did not, however, indulge in excessive amounts of adult beverages nor energy-dense foods, which is something, although the lustre of these achievements is possibly somewhat dulled by the facts that she is unable to move about easily nor carry stuff , and that something about the post-hospital medication regime is making her a bit sick most of the time. But there you have it, and credit where credit is due we say. Here's to a new year, free from the curse of the prawn!
I would like to share with you, if I may, a conversation I had with some work colleagues on the day before I went on sick leave. We were speaking of a(n absolutely charming) bloke in our little country tri club who came 29th overall at Ironman Melbourne (!!!!!!!!!!!), qualifying for Kona in the process (!!!!!OMGWEARENOTWORTHY!!!!). One of my colleagues (who CLEARLY has his own issues) has been camping with this chap and his (equally delightful) wife and was going on about how "every five minutes one of them would be going for a 10k run or a 2k swim or something like that". I made some wistful remark about how I missed being strong and fit and how fun it was to be able to exercise whenever I wanted, and how I would get back there one day. I would. I was probably being a bit over the top, I do that sometimes - but I didn't expect their responses:.
No you won't
Don't kid yourself
You won't get back there.

????

My first response was not my best, I admit: I showed them my upraised middle finger and told them there'd be one each for them at the finish of my next marathon. My next reaction was to burst into tears and run out of the office crying I didn't need to hear that today. Well done LBTEPA, I hear you say. You're all class. What can I say? These things happen and it's no use pretending they don't. I did accept the apology offered by one workmate (and have noted the echoing absence of 'sorry' from the other and adjusted my opinion of him accordingly).
Look, I might be a bit of a drama queen and a whinger and a catastrophiser and an unseemly seeker of sympathy from the interwebs, but I'm not stupid. Of course I've worried the surgery won't work. Of course I know I've lost five years' worth of fitness and gained a stupid number of bad habits and a stupid amount of weight this year. Of course I know it's going to be stupidly difficult to rejoin the ranks of the effortlessly active. I. KNOW. And over the last few months I cannot understate the amount of effort I have directed toward NOT thinking What They Said.
So thanks, boys. You're the best.
However, given that it would be beneath the LBTEPA Centre for Having the Awesome Life You Want to say f--- off and die, losers, LBTEPA's message to her work colleagues is this: I am not interested in your small and unkind thoughts. Unlike you, I dream big. I take responsibility for my health and my future. If I was happy here on Planet Sad and Unfit (with Bad Shoes) I wouldn't have had the surgery. Life is about pushing limits and I can't do that with a dodgy ankle.
I will be back. I will get fit and strong again, and run and swim and ride in races, and wear heels, and, ....just claw back the part of my life that the prawns stole.
Only ten more sleeps until I'm out of plaster, and then, my five faithful readers, IT. IS. ON. 

("ON" being a boot with gradual return to weight-bearing)

More anon, hoppy chicks!

off we go

it's been almost a year since I broke my ankle. That's a long time to be in limbo, but the end is finally here. I'm knocking off work early today to catch the lunchtime train to Melbourne becuase my surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. Who me, sad and scared to the pint of teariness? That, my five faithful readers, is not the LBTEPA way (on the outside, at least. Please don't be even the slightest bit unkind to me in the next 24 hours; I reckon the veneer is quite thin).
After that, there will be 3 months of doing exactly what the dr and the physio say...and then the LBTEPA quest for world domination will re-commence!
I'll get the Spousal Unit to post how it all goes.

More anon, upper-lip stiffeners!

sumimasen

My apologies, I got so flat out getting ready to go away that I forgot to post that I was going away (giving priority to my non-virtual existence, how could I?). So here we are in Osaka, shortly to pack up and move to Kyoto. Having a great time, wish you were here etc etc. No, really, I do wish you were here. You'd love it.
mata aimasho, ne?

(see you soon, eh?)

LBTEPA how-to #296

Welcome to the latest in the fanstastic series of LBTEPA how-to tips, sworn by by the fabulous and at by grammarians!
LBTEPA how-to #296: how to be bad-arse at the gym when you're overweight and middle-aged.
1. Don't be friendly. At our gym anyway, this is a rookie mistake. Make the minimum eye-contact for politeness (ditto smiling). Don't take this personally. It's becuase this is a Serious Gym - and you're Serious too. Oh yes you are. So it's all good.
2. Cover the elliptical machine readout, plug in your music and just run (ellipt? I dunno what it's called). You are bad-arse - you don't clock-watch, you just sweat until the job's done. Hold your form. Look as though you're enjoying yourself, in a purposeful way even though on the inside your legs are jelly and your determination-muscle is weak and sooky. You know what you're doing: you've been here before. Often. Wipe the machine after you've used it, becuase a) you've sweated up a monsoon and it'd be disgusting to do otherwise and b) good manners are bad-arse.Trust me.
3. Stretch. Gumby is bad-arse.

4. Cut the sleeves off your el-cheapo dri-fit shirt. For my darlings, you must wear dri-fit or coolmax or some kind of technical fabric when you exercise. Especially if, like LBTEPA, you glow like an absolute racehorse at the slightest exertion. But I digress. Cut off the sleeves of your ill-fitting, baggy this-thing-is-hideous-but-I'm-not-spending-lots-of-money-on-new-exercise-gear v-neck and you are instantly bad-arse. You wear a muscle shirt. You don't care what you look like becuase you have come to the gym to work out, thankyou very much, but it's also hot and you're jolly well going sleeveless (exposing your overweight middle-aged upper arms, quelle horreur!) and you're not apologising to anyone.
Bonus points if you cut the sleeves off one of your marathon finisher shirts; clearly you have so many that you don't care about them that much, and are obviously only on the elliptical becuase you're injured.
Any more to add?

More anon, hissy-fitters!

Watch this space

This post is about our heroine's well-documented predilection for a few too many sherbies a bit too often, and the latest plan to Smarten LBTEPA Up.
I have come to terms with the fact that there are those who will curl their lips contemptuously when they read of an otherwise quite functional 46-year-old who struggles with the siren call of the stress relief, anger management, personal space, comfort, celebration and ritual that is a nice chardy. You know what? They are more than entitled to do so: they have their reasons, I expect. I own my shame and guilt but I don't own other peoples' judgements. Their putative thoughts about me are not a reason to avoid stuff I need to explore. Part of me hopes that my story of I'm not perfect, and I'm sorry about that, but I'll never give up trying to live a better life might be helpful to someone else. You never know.
So. What's the Plan? Relying on self-restraint, shoulds, focussing on my weight or future health hasn't worked very well. Training for Very Slow Marathons worked, but it's clear I need something for when I can't, and quicksticks, too since my ankle  surgery is in a month ewwwwwwww.  Abstaining For Charity last July was ok, but I was very aware that it was short-term, and re-embraced my old habits afterward with unbecoming gusto.  So what to do?
I'm trying to be more realistic this time. Let's face it, I'm not giving up the demon drink altogether any time soon and I'm not going to pretend otherwise. This may cause another round of lip-curling, but again, that's not my stuff. The trouble with being a functional drinker is that it's easy to keep kidding yourself. I stopped that quite a while ago, but it's been hard to work out what I need to drink in a different way means.
I still don't know, but I do have A Plan. It involves watches.
If knowing oneself is a sign of maturity, then I'm all grown up now and happy to admit that it is all about the extrinsic rewards for me. Gimme bling or I'm not interested, but make the bling nice enough and I'll give it my all.  The Plan Is This: once I have recorded fifty alcohol-free days on the kitchen calendar (with star stickers!) I will buy myself one of the lovely watches pictured below, which I have coveted for some time. The Plan also takes into account the ol' LBTEPA tendency toward 'bugger it I've had one that's blown it I might as well have another couple' with the One Glass Rule: stopping at one glass and only one earns a dot on the calendar. Three dots equals a star sticker. Moderation is good!
I'm pretty excited about this. It feels like a good thing to do. I'm not going to make it a big part of the continuing story of LBTEPA or keep a tally in my sidebar or anything - just one day I'll post a photo of me in a brand new watch. You'll see.

In obligatory exercise news, I am working very hard at getting to love the elliptical machine at the gym. It's as much fun as it sounds. But in a good way.
More anon, tickers-off!