There are so many diet plans nowadays. Particularly for us women because we are oh-so-conscious about our weight and that we couldn't fit into that beautiful dress/ whatever we've got our eyes on.
Yes, I do want to slim down...and get some great strength so I can ace my fitness test next year. Not to hopeful about SBJ, but that's another story to tell.
I came across this strength and stamina increasing plan called 'one hundred push ups'. The name is self-explanatory. Basically you work up from the basic amount of push ups you can do within a few months until you can do a hundred with ease.
Don't you dare mock my girlie strength or I'll take up karate and kick your arse. Or skip karate, I'll go straight into assassination.
Anyway, I nearly killed myself and my poor arm muscles which are pulling as I move my hands to type. It feels weird and uncomfortable, all taut. Did I pull a muscle?
Apparently to do a good form push up, you have to do it men's style, but your chin must touch the floor. Only the chin, no other body parts. I did valiantly and repeatedly try, but I succeeded at two on my last attempt before my arms gave up. My stomach will always touch the floor when my chin does. And my chest always touches the floor before my chin does.
If you don't get what I mean, or think I'm insane, here's the link where you can view the guy demonstrating the good form push up. His elbows bent more than 90 degrees. Most of the girls in class can't even achieve perfect 90 degrees push-ups, and although mine is quite close, I can never go beyond bending 90 degrees and not pull a muscle/getting certain parts of the female anatomy in the way/the stomach decides to get there before my chin does.
And now I have a stomachache. Great. Arm ache (but I had lovely hard biceps when I clenched my fist and flexed my arms, no visible bulges, to my consternation), stomachache and uterus (don't ask) ache. Really wonderful.
Are your biceps supposed to bulge at the sides when you flex your arm? I can feel mine increasing in width. Is that normal?
Anyway, I want muscles like this (arm muscles, I don't want her flat chest...ahem.)
See? Her muscles are so nice and graceful! No arm fat at all! Nice toned body... Damn I wish I can have that without doing any exercise.
I need at least one part of me I'm satisfied with. And perverts, you better not take that too literally.
Let's see... I have fat arms, thunder thighs, stumpy legs, bloated stomach, a broad face, dry hair which sticks out, fat, a pear-shaped figure (at least I don't have an apple, I'm thanking God for that), short sighted eyes (I hate going to the optician. I miss leaning my face against the glass without feeling something plastic poking my temple). Oh, and I have a nose that sprawls out.
If I took part in the -how ugly-you-feel contest, I'm sure I'll emerge runner-up. Who knows? Somewhere out there might be someone who feels even worse. Because at least I have slender wrists and fingers, and they're strong enough to strangle people, so I'm satisfied.
I love my hands.
But I really want to fit into all those sheath dresses and babydoll dresses so I don't have to spend much time shopping and can throw on about anything and still look good. Why? Because I'm a lazy person, and I kinda hate shopping. Shopping within one mall is perfectly fine, shopping on the whole bloody Orchard (Tangs+Heeren+random boutiques+more shops+shoes+hefty bills) is dead boring. Unless you shop at a shoe shop.
At a younger age, I loved going to shoe shops whenever my mum brought me out for shopping trips. Can you guess why?
Well, it's because at shoe shops they have those cushions/seats for customers to sit on and try their shoes. I loved using those seats to rest and sit for a while. Going to shoe shops equated relaxation and rest when I was young.
And besides, you can never go wrong with shoes. You don't need to slim down feet, unlike bodies. Unless you have fat ankles/stumpy legs/garantulan feet.
I should go on a diet soon because so the calories I consumed today (fried fish nuggets, fried fillets, brownie with two scoops of ice-cream, mocha). I'm considering a run in the morning, but knowing myself, I won't be inclined to drag my booty out of bed at five.
I could always cycle, but I am terrible at balancing. Put me on a regular bike, and once you've let your hands go, I'll be falling on my side. So I can't cycle at all, period, unless the bike in question has beginner's wheels, which I will be too paiseh to try out. Can you imagine a 14 year-old teenage girl riding a bike with beginner's wheels? On a five year-old it may be cute, but on a fourteen year-old, it's equivalent to seeing your granny wearing a bikini or spandex suit and cheerfully going sunbathing in a see-through dress. Ok, this may be an exaggeration, but you get the feeling.
And the bike belongs to my sister. It's bigger than her small frame, and it's a horrible, garish neon pink. Allow me to shudder in disgust and revulsion. My reputation will be horribly trashed it I go out on a pink bike with beginner's wheels.
Which leaves me with diets and the 100-push ups plan, unless I want to go swimming and ruin my hair with the chlorine. Oh wait, I can't go swimming this week, because the Crimson came to visit and badger me with its unwelcome and sticky prescence.
By now I'm sure that what remains of my male readers are probably repulsed. Well, I'm sorry for discussing such matters in front of you. Please do take the nuffnang survey.
