Is It Me Or...

... is everything shit? I am not referring to the book but to my life.
Well, what can I say... it all started yesterday - at the gym of all places.
Perhaps it was simply not a good day, perhaps I was tired from a little too much too soon - I cannot quite say. Anyway, I found myself on the treadmill letting my eyes wander as you do and oh the envy, the desperation, the hopelessness. Whomever I looked at seemed super slim, super fit, in top form. Whilst I was never further from Greek Goddess and closer to red-faced chubbster.
So inevitably, I got myself really down, sort of went through the motions and went home, depleted, not elated.
On my way there I had visions of myself being alone forever, felt desperately in need of a hug and convinced myself that there was NEVER ANYONE there when I NEEDED THEM.
Also my life is crap, I am ugly, an underachiever, unfit and totally not on point where ambitions/plans for future are concerned.
I really worked myself into a state. And found that also I am fat and unlovable, a control freak, a weirdo, a bitter bitch, and basically all things nice.

In a brief moment of rationality I told myself this mood will not last. It will pass. Ride it out, tomorrow is another, a better day. That helped a little. However, I was also frustrated by that fact that I had these thoughts in the first place, that I was convinced of it all, however irrational.
And that is the funny thing, one part of you goes, calm down dear, it's not that bad, you are in fact quite alright, while the other goes into uber-sensitive loser of the year mode convinced that nothing, but NOTHING, is good (enough) in one's life, least of all oneself.

I'm a strong believer in the well known "This too shall pass" - because it always does. No day is the same, same goes for moods and ups and downs. I need to believe that otherwise I'd just hide from the world forever wishing for the end.

I cannot control the chemistry of my brain, but I try to cope with what it does to me.
Physical activity helps they say... I believe yesterday was a slip. Well it'd better be. Greek Goddess' patience is wearing thin anyway.

Still no six pack. We aren't impressed and think of stuffing our face every five minutes.

Nike's A Greek Goddess, right?

Had a few days off, went to gym religiously. Not quite Greek Goddess yet. But feeling better already.
Trainer's name is indeed Isaac. Chappy likes to preach. Also is big fan of women's derrieres.
But who am I to talk... my eyes do wonder, too.
Not so much onto women's backsides though.

It Is Time...

...HIGH time, indeed, to start that fitness thing everyone's talking about. You know going to the gym regularly and sweating and all that.
A colleague of mine asked (outright asked me) me whether I was pregnant. Or perhaps it just looked that way - he felt obliged to add quickly - that did not make it better, I have you know. 
This coming from a man whose paunch is simply phenomenal, I doubt he can see his... oh whatever.

Go bite yourself, fatso! As of next week will turn into Greek Goddess. Some bloke named Ian or Isaac or Zac or something is going to be my helper, or trainer as lingo goes in sporting world.

Pregnant, my ass!
Let's hope this training business works... like overnight...

This too shall pass...

Looking back on this year and last - I know I am early for the year end review - I must confess I am not proud of my track record in the department of human relations. I am in fact a little saddened by it. 

Is there a prize for being unlucky where love is concerned? 

I am not quite sure why I feel the urge to record and dwell on those epic failures over and over.  

But then again, I do know exactly. The self-pitying kind always know. 

Also they know that they are punishing themselves á la "Told you so... nya, nya, nyanyanyaaaaa..."

Right, so I am a self-pitying masochist. That's something. Some people don't have anything to say for themselves... NOT ME! 

Ooh, I am glad I got that out of the way. 

BRING ON THE CHRISTMAS GLITTER!

Thankyouverymuch.

Shrinkage Ain't No Joke

Routine check-up at the doctor's.
Of course I am super healthy - but that is ENTIRELY beside the point.
My doctor measured me - let us not talk about kilos and gramms here... details... BUT it turned out I am NOT 175cm/5.88 in height my passport states but only 172cm/5.77!

Life as I know it has officially ended.