THE ROAD TO NOWHERE

I’m on holidays and really can’t be bothered thinking of a new crap joke this week, so I’m just going to go with an old one I know.

An Aussie, a Pom and a Yank are standing on top of the Empire State Building. The Yank turns to the other two and says, “You know the updraft from this building is so strong, that if you jumped off the edge, it would push you back up.”

The other two say bullshit, no way, couldn’t happen. So the Amrican jumps over the edge and disappears into the cloud below. A few seconds later, he reappears and lands back on the building.

The Pom can’t believe his eyes, so he decides to give it a go. He gets up on the edge of the building and jumps off, falling to his death.

The Aussie turns to the Yank and says, “Geez you’re a prick sometimes Superman.”

Meh, get stuffed, quality will return when I do.

I know it is Saturday, but for some reason Ask Andy Anything Wednesday can’t be hosted over at Spatula City. So out of kindness I am hosting it here for Andy B. So enjoy the video.

Ask Andy Anything Wednesday. Episode 8

I’m fat. Actually I’m clinically classed as obese.

My current weight is 124.6kg. I am ashamed of it.

So why am I telling you all this? Well I’ve been battling my weight for long enough, and it is time got serious about getting it under control. I’m not trying to be stick thin, I just want to get my weight back down to a healthy range.

People keep telling me “But you’re tall.” Well yes I am 6′2″, but that is no excuse. The amount I weigh is unhealthy, and unsustainable. If I keep it up, it will cause further complications.

The last few years have been hard, I’ll admit that, but I have over compensated with food. I love food, in all it’s glory, but I love it too much, and it is a comfort thing for me. I have to break the cycle, which is why I am shaming myself here. It’s why I have woken up at 0200hrs, depressed and ashamed about how I look, how I feel, and where my life is headed, because of how fat I am.

My weight issues started when I was about 15 years old, when I injured my knee, requiring a reconstruction. I had always been a big eater, but I played a lot of sport, so it compensated. But when the energy output needed for the sport suddenly stopped, unfortunately the food intake didn’t. I gained weight, and thankfully I started to lose it again when I started playing sport again about 6 months later. But give it another three months, and my other knee blew out, requiring more surgery. So I went from being in a healthy range, to carrying some extra weight, to then going from carrying extra weight, to putting more weight on. In those 18 months or so, I went from being in a healthy weight range, to an overweight range, and I stayed there for many years.

Then when I was about 21, I moved to Brisbane, and it was a very stressing time. My weight had by this stage ballooned up to about 100kg, and I was looking really fat, not just carrying a spare tyre fat. I lived in Brisbane for a year, and it was a very stressing time for a number of reasons. When I moved back to Melbourne a year later, my weight had dropped to 77kg, and people were worried I looked anorexic. With being back amongst family and friends, and with a steady income again, my weight started to creep up again, and the next thing I knew, I was back to around the 90kg mark.

For the next few years, my weight would range between 90kg and 100kg. Being a blood donor, my weight was being checked every two weeks, and when it got to the 100kg mark, I knew I was in trouble and had to work the weight off again. I basically was a yo-yo dieter, with out really knowing it.

Then my marriage broke up, and it was a stressing time. I did a lot of walking to relieve the stress, my favourite spot was to walk the track around the Maribrynong River, from the Anglers Tavern, up to the Afton Street bridge, and back down the other side of the river. It’s a very popular walk, of a little over 4km.

LINK TO THE MAP FOUND HERE

My weight started to go down again, and I managed to get it down to about 90kg, and I was happy at that level. If I had managed to get it down to the 85kg mark, I would have been really happy. But that would have required more work and dedication than I was prepared to give.

Fast forwarding a bit to 2007, and my weight was creeping up again. I was sitting at about 100kg, when the leukaemia hit. Talk about a crash course in dieting. With the treatment, and the endless vomiting and inability to eat hospital food, I lost 14kg in 45 days. It certainly wasn’t a healthy way to lose weight, and naturally once I started eating again, the weight came back on.

When I started the third phase of my treatment, the chemo was steroid based. Add to this my inactivity, my general feeling of crap, and my love of food, and as expected, my weight started to rise again. Getting to the point of me being 126kg.

I kidded myself that because of the treatment, when it stopped I would easily get the weight off again. But I stopped chemo back in October 2008, and the six months it takes to get out of your system fully is now over, but my weight has remained. I’m currently tipping the scales at 124kg, and I hate it.

I don’t eating simply because I have to eat, I was eating because I find a lot of comfort in food. I get a great comfort from food, I love eating, I love the flavour, and it is not just junk food, but all kinds of food. If there is food available, I keep eating until there is no more. I eat with out even realising just how much I am eating. If I watch something like The Biggest Loser, I eat while watching it. Heck, even while typing this I want to eat.

Now I know I have many things that work against me, but really they are just excuses, but I think it is important to get them out in the open.

I work shift work. People who work shift work generally eat more, because it is a battle against the natural body clock to keep functioning when your body is saying rest. Also because of the odd hours, the quality of food available readily is generally of a poor standard.

I live alone. A lot of the time I really can’t be bothered cooking. So I either end up getting take away, or eating something out of a packet or a can, which is generally over processed, and of low nutritional value. If I sit down to watch a movie with a family block of chocolate, there is no family to share it with, so I end up eating it all on my own.

Food helps with my depression. But it is also a major cause of it. The fatter I am, the less fit I am. The lower my fitness level, the more depressed I am, and the more I want to eat to overcome that depression.

I have no set patterns. This is related to the shift work, but also because I eat when the time is available and not when I am hungry, I really don’t keep a good track of just how much food I am eating.

At work there is a fully equipped gym, which I am a member of, but I rarely use it. I am embarrassed about my weight, and to be seen publicly doing something about it, is embarrassing. Kind of stupid I know, given it means I am actually doing something about my weight issue, and therefore I should be proud of making the effort. But when I am just walking on a treadmill, and struggling, but the person next to you is running their arse off, and then moving on to something else, it is embarrassing, and you feel like you don’t belong there.

I also play sport, but I keep getting injured when I do so. Because of how hard I pushed when I was younger, I now have stuffed knees, arthritis in many of my joints, and I currently have a bulging disc in my back. The back issue is a hard one to work though, because when I try to work out at the moment, the next day I usually have to roll out of bed, drag myself along the floor just to be able to get up in the morning, or I have to take a heap of pain killers and even then I usually find I have to use a walking stick as well, just to be able to move.

I have been to my doctor about the back pain, and the best thing I can do at the moment is to lose weight, and get fitter, but it really seems like my body is working against me. The more I try to do something about my fitness levels, the more my body breaks down. The time it takes to recover just puts me back to square one. This pisses me off, leads to more depression, and more comfort eating. I really am stuck in a vicious rut.

To my advantage, I don’t drink or smoke, so those things are not adding to my problems, but I think the biggest problem I have is too much input, not enough output. I need to break that cycle, but I don’t know how. I know fresh foods are better, but when it comes down to this one having too much sugar, this one too many carbs, this one not enough protein for this time of the day, this one the wrong colour, it is all just too confusing. I really need help!

So I’m using this blog post to shame myself about my weight. I have to get serious about it. I want your help. I want people to help me notice how much I am eating. I want the encouragement to keep going to the gym, despite being a fat blob. I want to not be embarrassed about trying to make an effort. I want to be able to fit into that box full of clothes that I have, which I easily fitted into 3 years ago, but now they don’t even cover a third of me. I want to be able to buy clothes from the normal section, paying normal prices, instead of having to go to the fat chick section. I want to lose the fat gut I have that sticks out further than my breasts. I want to get back down to being a size 14/16 instead of being a size 24.

I have to start today, because tomorrow is just another delay, which will turn into another delay, and next thing I know it is another 6 months down the road, and I am even heavier. So please everyone, keep on my back about this, keep pushing me to keep you all updated as to my progress. I want to be able to fit back into my bikini, I want to be able to fit into my corset, I want to be able to wear my nice clothes again, and I want to be proud about my body, instead of it just being a dumping ground for food.

Michael Jackson has died of a heart attack. The big question now is, what will his tombstone say? Leave your suggestions in the comments section.

While we are on the subject, Farrah Fawcett’s arse finally gave way, she’s dead too now.

So it’s been a few days since I posted. I’ve been busy, so instead of the quality you expect from this blog, instead you get a crap joke.

An elderly couple go to the doctor, because the guy is having a few issues.

The doctor says to the guy “Ok, I’m going to need a urine sample, a stool sample, a semen sample and a blood sample from you.”

The old guy is a bit hard of hearing so just says back to the doctor, “What do you want?”

The doctor repeats, “I need a urine sample, a stool sample, a semen sample and a blood sample from you.”

Again the guys has no idea what the doctor is saying, so he turns to his wife and says “What is he saying?”

His wife, very frustrated by this time says to the guy “He says he wants a pair of your underwear.”

Ho-hum.

With steely eyes of determination, the wrapping is torn to shreds like a wolf tearing into the flesh of a fresh kill.  the outer coating is throw to the side as the sweet sweet prize is first sighted. Once the prize is clear, it is whisked away for the real joy to start.

But in another world, there is a box. A box is sighted with wide eyes of excitement, it is honoured and awed for what may be inside. The plain geometry of the box can hold any number or shapes of desires. Before a box is opened, there is a pause for the mystery to grow. A box is opened more slowly and with more dignity. There is a pop of the air rushing from the seal, like a hushing gasp of air when someone is excited to see what is inside. The contents are carefully removed, and the box is left where it sat.

Later, the box serves another purpose. It may be to hold photographs of the glorious event from which the box originated, it may be possessions for fun on a rainy day, it may be any number of things. But unlike the life if wrapping paper, the box lives on.

Look through your cupboards at home, and you will see there is not old wrapping paper holding onto your things, but boxes. Boxes are something to cherish, and long after the first opening of a box, mystery and excitement remains, just waiting for the next event.

Choose your own post is being delayed, due to a major case of the CBF’s.

So instead I bring you the World’s Greatest Challenge! Meh, maybe it isn’t that good but it will be worth it.

Thanks to a recent blog entry published by Rob “Fuck Off” Kempy, I’m having a hot dog challenge.

I’m looking for the best mass available hot dog, the best recipe, and the wackiest combination.

Have your entries in by the end of the month, and if I remember this post, and can be fucked, there will be prizes.

I’m going with my all time favourite bar joke. Oh and hey Mike, get fucked! So far I have written most of the jokes here, I don’t go off and google for them.

A Lawyer, a Nun and a purple elephant walk into a bar. Seated at the piano is a blind three legged mouse playing a banjo. The nun turns to the elephant and says,

“You know something, I think we’re in the wrong joke.”

So many things to blog about, so much can’t be stuffed deciding which one to blog about. Hey, I’m on holidays, give a girl a break.

So what I’m going to do is let you all decide what I should blog about, included below is a range of subject ideas I’ve been thinking about blogging about, or you can try and stump me with a subject.

• Australian Legal System
• The Chaser and their current issues
• Misheard song lyrics
• Public reaction to the “Underbelly” murders

Cast your vote(s) by leaving a comment in the comments section, I’ll do the blog posting on Friday, after all, tomorrow is Crap Joke Thursday, and I know you all would hate to miss that.

On Friday I tried to work out which team had the best theme song in the AFL, and it proved to be a harder task than I thought. In the end I ended up with a top eight. So I had to work on the criteria, and look at it scientifically.

So I ended up with the following set of rules as to how a team gets scored:

Passion: For each positive word each team gets a point  (repeated words, half a point)
Beat: 1-100. Using a beat counter, each team was given a beat rating.
Bad: Difficult words, that the average kid who is enjoying their first season of footy would ask what the word means. Teams lose a point for each word.
Known: Number of seconds before song is known, ie, first singing of club name: One point lost for each second.
Length: The idea length of song, is between 90-100 seconds, points deducted for outside of this range, added for less than 100 but more than 90.

I should point out at this time I am a passionate Richmond supporter, and a bonus point has been awarded to Richmond based on the “Yellow and Black” cry. This was pointed out by Club Wah (a Geelong supporter), and I agree with the decision that it a great war cry.

Using that criteria, the ladder looks like this, working from eighth to third…

• 8. St.Kilda: 34
• 7. Geelong:  53
• 6. Western Bulldogs: 55
• 5. Brisbane: 64.5
• 4. Essendon: 82
• 3. Richmond 95.5

So the final comes down to Collingwood and Hawthorn. Now I could easily drag this out until tomorrow, but because I want to know the result myself, it’s hidden under the read more button, along with a full list of the formula used.

With out further ado, the winner is….

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