We might all be facing a winter with our toes turning blue
Date submitted: 06 October 2008
Submitted by: overeater_underrated
with cold as we can’t afford to heat our flats (although shivering burns calories right?) but my friends still love eating out. All. The. Time. What’s wrong with the cinema I say, great, we could grab something to eat before hand, they reply. Not that I don’t love eating out. I do. Too much. That’s the problem. It’s not enough to have a delicious main course, no. I need a starter and no matter how much my stomach is making a bid for freedom over my jeans, a pudding too. I know, self control is needed, but unfortunately there’s always a bottle of wine on the table that tends to chip away at that. Maybe I should start taking my own food to restaurants. It’s all the range in the States apparently.
Brrr, where did that north wind come from?
Date submitted: 03 October 2008
Submitted by: overeater_underrated
One minute it was glorious, running friendly sunshine and the next I risk doing a Mary Poppins without the dignity and being blown over the roof tops of London just for keeping up with my fitness commitments. I’m afraid my running regime is slipping faster than the winter sun this week. But despite the blustery winds and risk of frost bite, I’m back on my bike and have been battling the wind and showers all the in the name of thinner thighs – and to save money in these credit crunch times. And with the rising cost of food – a recent visit to the supermarket nearly left me bankrupt - maybe impending the financial meltdown could be the key to a flat stomach.
Despite feeling revolting when I got home from work
Date submitted: 26 September 2008
Submitted by: overeater_underrated
yesterday, I struggled into my running kit and reluctantly headed out for a jog. I assumed my still aching head and gurgling stomach would have stopped me in my tracks ten minutes in, but I chalked up one of my longest, most enjoyable runs yet. How’s that work? A body full of toxins surely doesn’t want to exercise – all it wants is a sofa and a cup of tea. Not so. Apparently a hangover is excellent preparation for a workout. All those days when I eaten a carefully balanced breakfast, hydrated properly and waited the t the recommended two hours and have still struggled to get down the stairs of my flat now seem rather futile. It’s the weekend again – and a sunny one at that – and I’ve got plans to spring clean. Apparently some hardcore dusting can burn off up to 200 calories an hour. Never mind Mr Muscle, I’ll be Ms Muscle come Monday.