This is officially week one over of the Lipidsana shakes and the infernal gym. I have been mostly very excellent about eating correctly and drinking my shakes twice a day, and the only day I didn't go to the gym this week I walked like a trooper from home. And whenever I felt down, I- well, lemme explain to you:
As a general rule, you understand.
During the course of a short week, I have walked so much nowhere that I believe I'm eligible for some kind of a frequent buyer discount. I have had and lost two whole personal trainers who both looked like they could very potentially knock your tooth out by flexing a bicep. My wanton dreams of wire-fu have been demoted from Kill Bill-like badassery to Reservoir Dogs-style yammering. Ah, but I have watched an episode of Dexter's Labratory from the comfort of a treadmill, and let's be honest- who can really ask any more than that out of life?
I have yet to do an official weigh-in at the gym to compare my stats with last week's, but I have been torturing a scale at home, and it has not yet betrayed any actual weight loss. In fact, I've actually gone up a jot. This, as you may well imagine, is somewhat frustrating. Several attempts were made to stop being frustrated and start being awesome instead, all of which fell short and sputtered a bit before giving way to images of cheesecakes passed up and slap chips not eaten. Luckily, my mind is of such iron substance that I have convinced myself that my jeans are slightly looser, and a very knowledgeable GP only needed mention the words "maybe water retention...?" and I was all over it like white on rice. So for the record books, perhaps no substantial kilogram loss as of yet, but there has been some (potentially psychosomatic) waist-management (ah ha ha, I kill myself, I really do.)
In anecdotal news, I do have a small grievance I need to share. Not two days yore, on Wednesday last, some fiendishly fiendish fiend burgled my flappy-eared hat right out of my gym locker. I stashed my entire Treasury of Many Things in one of the provided lockers whilst averting my eyes from naked bums left and right, and when I came back all a-sweating and a-heaving, I found my hat to have been viscously kidnapped. Nothing else at all was taken or touched, which leads me to conclude either a very stupid thief, or a severe under-achiever. Perhaps one of the naked-bummed people opened the locker mistakenly, believing it to be theirs, and expressed brief puzzlement at finding their hat sitting on top of a pile of foreign things before walking off nakedly wearing a little black beanie. Perhaps I'll never know, but my ears felt decidedly naked that day as I trudged home with my Treasury of One Less Thing.
Today's exercise block shall have to be Gym Lite, as I'm sniffling and coughing like a thing that sniffles and coughs a lot, and I hope not to aggravate the sleeping giant that is a possible full-blown flu right now. There's a good chance I may fall serenely asleep upon my laptop keyboard today, in which case I may be able to figure out how my cat changed my display settings to Russian when she walked across it this morning. I'll post an update of vitalstatistix later when I get back, but until then, thanks for reading dad, and let's not have mince tonight, OK? I'm feeling a porterhouse like a brick wall today. And some Med-Lemon.
Enjoy an official "Before" snap, on the house.
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