Who stole my cheese?


I am sitting here watching a program ‘Best Food Ever – Crazy for Cheese’.  I am reminding myself of my commitment to my 12WBT.  Watching a cheese program.  Committed to Michelle.  Cheese.  Committed.  I should just change the god damn channel.  Cheese – will I ever enjoy thee again?



I should really be in bed.  Sleep deprivation has not been doing me or my relationships any good.  It is really difficult to function properly or string more than a few words together to construct a relatively normal sentence when one is as tired as I am at the moment.  Know if you pay Australian taxes, I’m working hard for my pay packet.

I’ve been cranky a lot lately and so has the four year old pink Troll.  My excuse is Michelle says ‘No’ to the fun things in my life.  The pink Troll has no such excuse.  There isn’t enough room in this house for two cranky girls. God help the Devil and the blue Troll when she hits adolescence…I may have to move out.

On another note, I had a cortisone injection in my ankle yesterday. Yes it did hurt, thanks for asking.  I’m not a fan of needles – especially those that are visible on the screen as they are being inserted into your body.  I would like it noted for the record, there were no tears.  I did not cry.  I was brave.  I did find it intriguing though.  I was torn between turning away and staring at the blank wall to the right of me so as not to be grossed out – and taking glimpses of the screen in amazement that I could actually see that needle as it pierced my bloody ligament (read painful) and watch the entire 4mls of fluid be injected into my poor swollen limb.  I watched.  Of course I did – no one puts themselves through that experience and doesn’t watch if there’s a t.v. available.  Right?

Why the cortisone injection?  (and on a side note for the Diplomat – cortisone was first identified by an American, Edward Kendall.  Definitely not Mexican…).  Having broken my ankle in March and royally screwing almost all of the necessary ligaments and tendons, it is fair to say my left ankle has been giving me some grief, particularly with all of the impact exercise the 12WBT prescribes.  I could have whimped out and just not done it, it’s a pretty good excuse to ease off a bit don’t you think?  But that isn’t how I roll.  No, if there is a challenge, I’m generally one of the first to throw themselves in, boots and all.

Challenges all round.  Tonight was a Pilates night.  Whilst I won’t bore you with the ins-and-outs of my achievements in the studio, I know when I definitely owe a shout out of thanks.  Ms P was determined there would be no bogan-moths in her studio tonight and persisted with me until my inner-thighs were engaged along with my abs (co-ordination has never been my strong suit) and I completed the butterfly.  Ms P appeared to take great delight in informing me that of course, once almost attained, she will again move those goal posts.  Thank you.

Let me introduce you to the reformer.

Yes.  It does look like some strange bondage apparatus.  Surprisingly, its not.  This is representative of Big Bertha at my local studio.  She keeps me company week in and week out.  We are very well acquainted.

Speaking of challenges – at this mornings weekly weigh-in, I’ve dropped a whopping 600g.  I know I know – that kind of loss takes talent.  However, a loss is a loss (I can hear the Pain Master in my head), I’ll take what I can get at the moment.

Shrinking - or not

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