Tuesday: Football day for the wonderfully (and at times aptly) named Mierda F.C. We are kicking off at exactly the same time as England do in Switzerland. We just scrape together a side though our struggles are down to holiday, injury and football watching rather than News of the World Exclusives. Our regular keeper Gordy the Cat is one of those missing so I am between the sticks all game. Surprisingly, despite having no subs and playing a side who turned us over a few weeks ago we play brilliantly and win 10 – 2 to go top of the league.* I celebrate with a huge bowl of pasta and a nice Pinotage, both consumed after 9pm. So despite the footy and spending the hour or so before it moving furniture, pans and a hobbled toddler I still probably put on weight. Too scared to weigh myself. In other news I’m allergic to Reigate**. My legs hurt when I sit in my work chair.
Wednesday: Take away and wine. I’m really not taking this very seriously.
Thursday: I forgo the gym in favour of shopping unloading and baby organising. No cardio but I do carry a crib and 6 heavily packed shopping bags.
Friday: This was so nearly a moment that UK viewers of Dragon’s Den might understand as a ‘dog ate my trainers day’. I have my gym kit packed but the trains conspire to leave me a 20 minute walk from it and I have to pass the house to get there. A herculean effort gets me to the gym but after walking there I’m shattered. I do a 5 minute row to warm up fine but spend too much time walking when on the treadmill. A long rest then 15 minutes on the cross trainer and I’m done and I still have to walk home. No weights. I am going to be lugging furniture, kitchen equipment and a toddler all weekend. At least I get to weigh myself. 15 stone, 95kg in metric. Fatter than a footballer but slimmer than a prop forward.
Saturday: We spend the day ‘nesting’. Which roughly translates as me moving every piece of heavy furniture in the house under directions before moving anything deemed not worthy up in to the loft. A definite weight loss day. By evening I’m exhausted.
Sunday: This on the other hand was a definite weight gain day. We are having the kitchen done starting tomorrow so there is little in the fridge. Consequently a take away lunch is followed by a polite slice of cake as we drop in to a children’s party (Owen’s still in plaster and doesn’t want to stay long) before it’s off to Burgess Hill for Sunday dinner with the Scholfields. N puts the Jackson 5 on in the car and I attempt some subtle chair dancing to Rockin’ Robin but it’s all in vain weight wise. I have the most wonderful time but I’m 2 helpings of lasagne, several profiteroles, beer and wine to the good before we go. I clear the kitchen to Jeff Mills when we get home but when I sit down I feel like Orca. The biggest challenge is about to come however – a week without a kitchen. This means microwave meals, take away and eating out for a week. Yikes!
* true at the time of writing. If you click the link after the evening of 14 Sept 2010 we could be literally anywhere!
** I have actually been allergic to every office I have ever worked in.
Oh my aching sides! Still you are bound to lose some weight when number two arrives, right?
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