My having a bath of a Tuesday night is not just a rarity; it's unheard of. That it had it's genesis this morning at Mam's back door just as I was leaving for work is still a source of annoyance. She asked me if I was pregnant?! So, I have a slight bit of a belly and am the heaviest I've ever been, still there's no need to go for the jugular! Anyhow I was pissed off all the way to work and Operation Shit Slow did nothing to enhance my mood.
Alanis Morissette got me through the day. Boy that gal has had a shit load of not so nice boyfriends by the sounds of it. Still, nothing like angry fem. music to make you feel better when you're in the doldrums. I ate healthily all day, nothing to do with the pregnancy jibe, just day four of the "I'm going to endeavour to eat healthily in the run-up to Christmas so that I can really splurge during the festive season" nonsense. Is it just me or does nature make it really difficult to choose the healthy option? Mars Bar in one hand. Open the wrapper, devour. Three mandarins in the other. Peel them in such a way so as not to get juice all over the keyboard at work(nobody likes a sticky keyboard), chew carefully so as not to choke on a little stone thing. The lying bastardos said they were "seedless". Seedless my ar$e! At the end of three mandarins, still hungry. Move to strawberries. Wash said strawberries to get rid of insecticides as too scabby and cynical to pay for the organic variety. AS IF, they spend all that time doing all that nurturing stuff to the strawberries, I guarantee you that half of them just spray them and then label them "organic" and the problem is you can't tell which is which so you may as well go for the cheapest option and scrub like a mofo before you eat them. And the eating of them is a pain as you have to get rid of the green stalky thing. No, give me a Mars Bar any day. Full, satisfied, craving over in all of like ten seconds.
I digress. So eating was good today. Think of food as fuel. No that's not really a good idea as I shy away from that super stuff and always go for the cheapest unleaded. Anyway, got home, had dinner, decided to go for a run. I've been gradually getting about one to two runs a week in for the past while, weather and laziness permitting. But today, propelled in no small way by the p-word, I reached a milestone of forty, that's right, forty uninterrupted minutes of plodding. And it wasn't just about the forty minutes of continuum. It was forty minutes of not visualising all the body parts that I could "feel". The dodgy knee here, the sore ankle there, the my God what in my pelvis could possibly be hurting and how? Mind you I couldn't have done it without the sultry sounds of Nina Simone, the headbanging of Nirvana and the street-wise soul of Common. (Note to self: how did they end up in the same playlist?)
What's amazing is I came home feeling elated. Elated and lungs slightly deflated but a fantastic feeling nonetheless. I may not feel the same tomorrow morning. Kudos to those endorphin thing-a-majiggies. They really exist! They led me all the way up the stairs to the bath. Oh it was an absolute pleasure to sit my flabby ass down in that hot bubbly water. I lay there ensconced in Nuala O'Faolain's memoir for another forty minutes. There's a bit of symmetry in that. So thanks Mam for making me get off my fat ass. And thanks Nuala O'Faolain for making me ask the question am I somebody? Feck it, I won't get any sleep tonight! Jays, I thought I was going to end on a positive note there for a minute!
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