When things start to sag

Growing older sucks.  And not in a good way.  Throw in early onset male menopause and you have the odds stacked so against you that I now totally get why Meryl Streep drank that potion in Death Becomes Her.  Only in real life there are no magic potions only hormones, exercise and diets.  All of which I loathe because hormones require needles, exercise make you sweat and diets are just a “socially acceptable” way of starving yourself.  You know, because anorexia and bulimia are “mental disorders”.

Having gained 7kg (15.4 pounds) in just over three months I can honestly say being fat isn’t fun.  I know that I have been joking that our pregnancy is the reason I have put on a few, as I am "with child" so to speak, but in all honesty most women I know do not gain that much weight during pregnancy.  So why did I gain all this weight in such a short period of time?  Well, according to my doctor (not the one that lives in the Internet who communicates with me through WebMD) it is male menopause and being in my thirties.  I almost killed him, but I didn’t because even though I am chubby I’m still too pretty for jail.  Do you even know what they will do to a pretty boy like me in there?

The final straw that broke the camel’s back happened last week Thursday.  Picture it.  It’s 6:30am at our gay petting zoo, the animals have been fed, I have brushed my teeth, shaved, applied my plethora of age defying creams, done my hair and got ready to get dressed.  I took out an outfit that I wanted to wear, put on my shirt and then tried to put on the pair of pants.  But it didn’t fit.  Then I pick another pair of pants.  That one was also too small.  I made a third attempt, this time I tried to suck everything in and almost popped a vein in my head in the process, but to no avail.  Then I started to panic.

You see, the larger size pants that I recently bought was in the washing and I only had two more pairs of pants left as options for work.  If these two didn’t fit I would be totally screwed!  I have never prayed when I was dressing myself but this day I did.  But my prayers went unanswered.  After I tried on all five pairs of pants I found myself sitting in the middle of a pile of rejection, in the form of pants, sobbing like an emotionally disturbed child.  I looked at my fat and screamed “Why do you hate me?” as if my fat would be able to answer me back.  Anyone who has ever been in that kind of situation will tell you that at that moment you cannot think rationally.  I also almost called in fat for work that day.  But I don’t think that is actually a thing, but it totally should be.   Needless to say I didn’t try it.

Luckily hubby saved the day.  I had forgotten that I bought another pair of pants that I have never worn because hubby hadn’t gotten around to hemming it yet.  So he promptly did and I was able to go to work, albeit it emotionally bruised and feeling rather defeated.  Later that day I spoke to hubby on the phone and he suggested that I go and see my doctor.  Which I did.  While in his consulting room I told him about my unexplained weight gain, that I did not eat more than usual and that he needed to help me.  Then he asked me when last I got a testosterone shot and I then remembered that it was more than seven months ago.  And apparently that was the problem.

Also, apparently those little tropical holidays I have been experiencing again the last three months were hot flashes.  The injection I had seven months ago only works for four months and the last three months my hormone levels took a nose dive again.  Now I am on a testosterone injection once every two weeks until my levels stabilize.  The doctor said that due to the lower testosterone levels I was gaining weight and once the levels are back to normal I will find it easy to lose the extra weight.  But being thirty something I should also remember that my body’s metabolism slows down and that is part of ageing and there is no pill or injection OR magic potion for that.

Look, I do know that we all are going to grow older and that our bodies will change as we do but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.  The fact that I have also noticed that certain parts of my body are on the verge of sagging freaks me out and I will definitely have a few things lifted, nipped and tucked down the line.  I started with Botox when I turned 30 and luckily due to this I have no frown lines, wrinkles or crow’s feet.  However, from the neck down that is a totally different story that I like to refer to as “Ground Zero”.  It’s like a natural disaster but only it involves fat and cellulite; the kind of fat and cellulite that you will eventually have to get sucked out of your body because they are stubborn motherfuckers.

Growing older isn’t any fun.  There comes I time that you have to accept that the twenty something body you once had is gone forever.  The days that you could do fifty sit-ups and have a six pack has passed.  The days that you could lose weight just by fucking breathing is now a distant memory.  Many people I know embrace the process of ageing; they don’t mind gravity sucking their boobs and asses to the ground, the odd wrinkles, grey hair and the cellulite.  They accept it as the natural order of things.  But I don’t.  If we were meant to age gracefully there wouldn’t be things like facelifts, body lifts, tummy tucks, liposuction and Botox to mention but a few.  I’m not saying that I will do all these things or advocating that you do.  All I am saying is that I will try and defy the process of ageing for as long as I can afford it.  And as for my early onset male menopause, I have only one thing to say about and to it is and that is fuck you!

Till next time.

Spring & A Fat Ass Diet

Spring has finally arrived in my little speck of the world. The bees are buzzing, the birds are mating and every single last flower in my garden is producing enough pollen falling just short of sending me into anaphylactic shock. I am super allergic to pollen, grass, well pretty much everything related to spring. But allergies and animals having sexy time everywhere you look is not the only thing spring brings. Spring also brings a reality check. I, like most people I know, do tend to pack on some extra pounds during the winter months. And as we start shedding our winter jackets and sweaters revealing our lily white arms and legs which must see the sun in instalments, it also brings another revelation. And unfortunately for me my revelation was the fact that I have become fat!

The greater part of my Internet activity this past weekend was spent researching diets. You see, in just a few short months I need to be able to fit into my Speedo for our island holiday. Yes, you read correctly – my Speedo! I only wear it when I am not in South Africa and at places where there are people that I am sure I in all probability will never see again. During this winter I packed on a few extra unwanted pounds and to my horror discovered that I am starting to grow a second chin, a flabby gut and some god awful cellulite on my ass. It’s all very traumatising! And seeing as I have cancelled my gym subscription the only recourse I have left to my disposal is a diet. Either I go on a damn diet or make peace with the fact that I run the risk of looking like a beached whale in Madagascar in December.

Now, it should be noted that I have never been on a diet a day in my life. I don’t know how it works and prior to this I also didn’t really care either. But as I realized that a diet may be necessary, I consulted with my good old friend Google. There are millions of diets on the Internet ranging from well organized programs you can join with weekly weigh-ins (I don’t even own a scale by the way) to eating programs you can follow, some lasting only a couple of days and others lasting months. The more I read about diets the more it dawned on me that maybe it was not for me. I am far too lazy to measure out my food, pack three small lunches to take to work or having to go stand in my underwear on a scale in front of a bunch fat people only to be told I am fat too. My fragile self-esteem would be devastated.

Sure there are no fat evaporating fairies hiding in my summer closet, but diet – bitch please. I just can’t imagine myself having to stuff my face with shit that taste like cardboard, not eat carbs and having to swop my fizzy drink for bottled water. That’s like being a contestant on Survivor but without the million dollars. Furthermore, if I don’t eat potatoes at least 5 times a week the world will end. Not to mention having to swop my red meat with fish and/or skinless chicken, having to give up my gravies, sauces and other fattening condiments that I love so much. Oh my God, a diet will kill me!

For a brief two days I must admit I did ponder on the idea of bulimia. On the one side you can eat what you want and as much of it as you want. But on the down side you have to vomit and I hate vomiting. So I shut that idea down as it requires too much commitment and too much time spent in the toilet hurling. Anorexia was eliminated from the onset as an option for obvious reasons. So with half a cheesecake taunting me in my fridge, I sat down yesterday further contemplating my dwindling options. Clearly the diet thing was not going to work for me. Diets have too many rules, gets up in your business too much and have the distinct notion of starvation and supervision that is as unappealing to me as is the cellulite on my rear end. So what am I to do?

Having had Plastic Surgery earlier this year and still having my surgeon’s number on my speed dial, just a number higher than that of my Botox dispenser, I considered bypassing the whole starve yourself thing and fast forward to liposuction. Why starve yourself and munch on a salad that does not constitute a dinner (according to me) when you can have all that fat sucked out in less than an hour. The only problem with that is I cannot afford it! Damn you economy! Damn you! As my elation turned into a gluttonous cheesecake feeding frenzy, my extra pounds were weighing down more than just my flab. Rather disconsolate I walked to the mirror and gave myself a good stare down. The edges of my mouth still covered in crumbs of the cheesecake that was delicious I must say, I looked at myself and made a decision.

I have gained a few pounds over winter and the only reason I gained the weight was because of bad eating habits. Crisps is not food and neither is a snicker bar or chocolate milkshake. I made a choice the change my eating habits. And no, it will not be a diet but rather a conscious choice to eat healthier: More fruits and vegetables, less McDonalds and Kentucky Fried Chicken, less frying and more steaming and grilling. Whether my conscious decision to change my eating habits will see me shed those extra pounds, only time will tell. But one thing is for damn sure, I will not be on some fat ass diet.

Till next time.

Beer ~ The Miracle Diet Drink

Queers on Wheels

Exercise is something I view in the same light as tofu, diet coke and rice cakes.  It’s not natural.  It’s not appealing and it makes me want to vomit.  I don’t like to starve and I don’t like to sweat.  But when you have to bring a certain pair of cargo pants out of retirement from the closet and a sense of shame and guilt overwhelms you as you stare at the flab where your abs of steel once were, a certain rude awakening happens.  Yes people, my Chinese Diet Pills are not working and I have not lost some of my circumference.  I am the gay version of obese and I do not intend to celebrate a certain thirty something birthday (which is just over two months away) looking like the Michelin Man.  So, I did what any self-respecting gay man would do, I sobbed and then I went out and I bought myself a bike.

This month is our 14^th anniversary.  On 21 May hubby and I would have outlasted 40% of all straight marriages and what a better way to celebrate this anniversary month than for me to try to lose 8kg and get back into shape before my birthday.  After all it is as much a gift for hubby as it is a gift for me.  Both hubby and I deserve for my body to be close to the shape it was in when we first met.  Albeit that back then I looked semi anorexic.  I mean you could seriously see my hip bone back then. So this time around my aim will be for the healthier looking version of me 14 years ago, not anorexic looking me.

So on Monday hubby and I went shopping.  Initially I decided to buy a treadmill.  Sure, it’s nothing more than a hamster wheel but I do prefer sweating, heaving and being red faced in private while watching Chelsea Lately or listening to music.  The treadmill seemed like a much better option than jogging through the neighborhood or running on a treadmill all lined up like a Nazi concentration camp's fitness experiment in the gym. Then I saw how much treadmills cost.

Treadmills are fucking expensive.  A whole month’s salary expensive!  For a brief moment while standing in the fitness shop, with a dropped jaw, I thought maybe I wasn’t really that fat.  Love handles are just more of me to love, right?  Then I remembered the reflection of my flab in the mirror that morning.  Remembered that cellulite is not my friend.  Remembered that even though chubby people have great personalities, nobody wants to see them naked, people get nervous at the pool if it looks like they are going to dive in and realized that economy class seats (the class that I now have to fly due to the economy) are small and very narrow.  I realized that I am chubby and I needed a Plan B.

On the other side of the fitness shop I spotted my Plan B – mountain bikes!  Interesting, I thought.  The last time I was on a bike was when I was 13.  I have fond memories of my red BMX bike and I knew that a mountain bike was my salvation from my every growing circumference, as my Chinese pills so blatantly calls it.  Mountain bikes are expensive too, but not as expensive as hamster wheels.  Besides, at least with a bike we will save money on the power bill, as I think hamster wheels can be heavy on electricity.  And bikes are greener and it will give hubby and I something to do as a couple, let us get out of the house, get some fresh air and get me into shape.  So we went shopping for the right bikes for us.

In a specialty bike shop I spotted the most amazing tandem bike.  It exited me in my loins and as I was pointing it out to hubby all vivaciously, his expression was one of “Yea right.  As if we are not gay enough as it is.  Why don’t we just hang pink tassels on the handle bars, besides I would have to do all of the peddling anyway"  It may surprise you, but yes, my husband can convey all of this in just one look, it’s a skill.  With a tandem bike clearly not being a realistic option we eventually bought two bikes that we both liked, bought pumps, helmets and all the paraphernalia one would need to get started.

My brother-in-law graciously offered to pick the bikes up for us as the boxes they came in would not fit in either of our cars.  For some odd reason I thought that if you buy a bike it comes fully assembled, but they don’t.  You have to do it yourself and for that you need tools.  Fortunately for us, brother-in-law has tools, lots of them and in no time at all, both our bikes were assembled and ready to go.  For the first time in almost two decades I was about to get on a bike, and I did not know what to expect.

Not being in any kind of shape at all, hubby and I decided to ride around the block.  It’s not a massive distance, but we thought it would be a gentle way to ease us into things.  Little did we know, but our block has hills and no matter which way around you go you will have an uphill and downhill.  To make matters worse is the fact that my bike was squeaking and it sounded a lot like it was saying “you’re fat” when it squeaked.  As these Queers on Wheels made our way around the block, people stared and I was dripping with sweat, out of breath and praying that no one recognizes me from under the helmet and from behind my sunglasses.  But we made it!  Eventually. I survived and it wasn’t really a completely unpleasant experience.  So later in the afternoon, we did it again.

The squeaking was later discovered to be the rear brake pads and our hairstylist, who had to see the bikes for himself, quickly identified the problem and the bike now no longer squeaks and calls me fat.  Hubby and I decided to ride around the block every day, each day venturing a little further as our fitness levels increases.  There are a lot of bike trails in and around our town and when we feel ready and know that we will not risk a heart attack we will start exploring them too.  It’s something constructive to do on a Sunday and much healthier than lying on the couch in front of the television eating crisps.

Exercise is never fun, but in the absence of a miracle pill that burns fat and turns chocolate or Hägan-Dazs ice cream into cellulite burning treats, it is unfortunately something I will have to do.  I know many people buy bikes with the full intention of exercising and that many of these bikes either end up as clothing racks or dust collectors in their garages, and many people think this is exactly what’s going to happen to ours.  But I do like a challenge and I do like proving people wrong.  So take that flab, I will paddle my little gay legs off around my little neighborhood and by the 1^st of July, I will have shed those excess 8kgs and be able to retire those pair of cargo pants back to its spot of shame in the closet!

Till next time

Chinese Weight loss Pills

I swear my body works on a five year cycle.  Either that or I am more like Oprah than what I want to believe.  Since I reached the tender age of thirty my metabolism decided to shut the hell down and all that “I wish I could gain some weight” of my early twenties came back to bite me in my fat ass ten years later.  Yes people, it is time to renew my driver’s license again, and yes I am going to be stuck with a pudgy photo of myself on my license until 2017.  It’s a bloody nightmare but I have a plan.  There’s nothing that I can do about the driver’s license right now but there is something I can do about the weight – it is called KAMEI and it comes from China.

 First let me qualify what I mean when I say I am fat.  In gay terms I am fat.  I’m about 8 to 10 kilograms (17.6 lbs to 22lbs) over what is acceptable, in gay terms, for my height and technically speaking, in gay terms, I am very close to being classified obese.  Yes people – OBESE!  No one likes a flabby fag and no matter what I want to believe myself - I don’t either.  So I did what any self-respecting curvy homosexual would do, I decided to get some diet pills.  Not the “you are wired the whole day and at night you can’t sleep” ephedrine kind; No I decided to go for the “I don’t exactly know what’s in them and I could possibly die” Chinese kind.

Desperate times call for desperate measures and for the homosexual on-the-go who don’t have time to run like an obtuse rodent on a treadmill, pills seemed like the perfect solution.  A colleague at work was selling these sliming tablets and by all accounts they seem to work.  Naturally, I could not resist and I got myself a month’s supply at a very reasonable price.  Buying these pills and taking them is very similar to joining Brad Pitt’s Fight Club.  Only this is Diet Club, and the first rule of Diet Club is do not talk about Diet Club.

 What doesn’t kill you will make you thinner.  This is what I told myself when I drank my first pill.  There was no piece of paper inside the box listing the active ingredients, its workings or possible side effects.  Furthermore, the pills were also not FDA approved and the packaging simply stated it was FDA supervised.  I didn’t know what the fuck that meant and frankly I didn’t and still don’t care.  If these pills can make me loose 10kgs in 3 months I am prepared to stick feathers up my ass and call myself a chicken.  I was going to try it and tell my husband nothing (you know the first rule of Diet Club and all).  But alas, I just cannot keep secrets from my hubby.

Come Friday night, hubby and I decided to go out for an early supper at an Italian restaurant just around the corner from where we live.  After some good food and a bottle of chardonnay I came clean.  “So I am taking these Chinese slimming tablets that I bought at work.  It makes you lose weight without any dieting and/or exercise” I said trying not to sound ashamed at my lack of weight loss effort.  “Really?  Is it legal?  It didn’t fall off a truck or come from the black-market, did it?  You do work with some pretty strange people and it would not surprise me if it did.”  Hubby said with that disapproving look he has perfected.  After arriving home hubby asked to see the packing and while reading it he broke down laughing.

 My mother taught me to always read the packing of anything before I put it in my mouth because it is important to know exactly what you are putting in your body and how much calories it contains.  But, for some strange reason I did not bother to do it this time.  Hubby proceeded to read the packaging to me out loud.  The ingredients are listed on two separate places, at the one place it ends with the word “and others” and at the other it ends with “ETC”.  It seems they listed what they considered to be the most important ingredients but oh don’t you worry about the others they are not important and do not really matter.

Then there were the human body experiment and the goods “do not diarrhea and vomiting or anorexia” and is suitable for the obese crowd and will lessen your circumference.  Perfect, I do want my circumference lessened and I do not like having diarrhea, vomiting and I have no intention of starving myself either.  So it’s perfect.  Hubby said it’s ok for me to take the pills to see if they work.  After all, my will and testament is up to date as is all my life insurance.  It’s not like there’s anything harmful in my Chinese weight loss pills, right?  However, I do lie awake some nights wondering what the “and others” and “ETC” are though.

 Today is day five and I am still alive.  We don’t own a scale, because scales are evil.  The only good practical purpose scales serve is for weighing your luggage to ensure it meets the airline’s weight allowance and that we do at my in-laws.  So in the absence of a scale I don’t know if I have lost any weight yet.  I’ll guess when I put on that one pair of black pants which have become a little too tight around the hip area I will see if the KAMEI is working.  In the mean time, I will think about possibly joining the gym again and cutting out some of those delicious carbs and sugar from my diet.  So goodbye cupcakes...  Farewell chocolate bars...  Au revoir crisps...  We won’t be apart long.

Till next time.

Clench those gluteal muscles!

Fabulous, I survived my first week back at the gym or as I like to call it “the torture place where we punish ourselves for eating too much”. I took exactly one year’s hiatus from meaningful exercise and frankly I can’t recall why I did it. But now I am back trying to get into shape and from what I experienced last week it is going to take some time and it’s going to be hell.

A couple of weeks ago I had the misfortune of stumbling across a photo of me on Facebook. The photo was taken at a party hubby and I attended. There are many photos of me floating around on the intrawebs and normally most of these photos have been taken from my good side (any side that makes me look thin) and those that were not most definitely are photoshopped. But this photo was different, it wasn’t my good side nor was it electronically altered – it horrified me!

You see in the last 12 months the lack of exercise and abundance of all things that’s normally bad for me took its toll. I gained a few pounds and I didn’t notice seeing as weight gain is an evil gradual process and I was convinced my washing machine was faulty and shrinking my clothes. Then I saw that fucking photo! I once use to have one chin, but in that photo I had two and to exacerbate the horror I looked 3 months pregnant!!! After almost passing out from hyperventilating, I went to the bathroom looked at my chubby self in the mirror and decided to go back to gym.

It took a lot of mental preparation for me to walk into the gym last week. Firstly, I was scared that due to my current fitness level being zero I was either going to pass out and split my head open in one of the classes or have a heart attack. Secondly, I was secretly praying that all the people in my group class would be morbidly obese or at least fatter than me, which of course they weren’t. Armed with a prayer, a towel, a water bottle and a cute outfit that hid my blubber I walked into the gym on Tuesday, focused, determined and slightly terrified.

Trying to appear confident I took a strategic position in the back of the class. From the back no one could watch me or point and laugh and if I had enough I could just sneak out. As all the ladies and two gentleman came dripping into the studio and zero hour was vast approaching I fought the urge to take my stuff and flee. Then the instructor arrived and closed the door behind him and with a firm voice becoming of a drill sergeant he said “Welcome to Boxing, I will be working you out for the next 60 minutes” and with that there was no backing out.

I’m no fucking Rocky and floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee clearly wasn’t in my repertoire but I suffered my way through. As I got into my car after the class I was soaking wet, relieved and kind of proud of myself. The next day I was pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t stiff or sore, but the surprise was short-lived. Thursday came and I was in a world of pain. Walking and breathing and even holding a pen was painful and to make matters worse - I was to attend another class that evening and I was petrified!

Shuffling my way into Studio 1 Thursday afternoon I was having a protracted conversation with myself in my head. “Why do you punish yourself like this? Surely there are easier ways to lose weight?” After ten minutes of negotiating and rationalizing with myself I eventually made peace with the fact that I am at the gym and I am there for a reason.

The second Nazi instructor pitched all excited and energetic but his enthusiasm wasn’t contagious. As the class started my muscles warmed up and the excruciating pain subsided. He worked us hard and paid particular attention to our asses. At one point he screamed “Clench those gluteal muscles!” and I wanted to scream back “If I clench any harder I will pop a vein!” Sixty minutes later it was over and I made my way to my car finished! I could barely drive away as my legs were shaking that much, but it felt good.

I survived my first week back at the gym and I am honestly not looking forward to this – my second week. But with all things in life we sometimes have to commit ourselves to things we don’t find appealing. I will go back tomorrow and suffer some more. Hopefully as the weeks pass and my pregnant belly and my second chin melts away I will start enjoying this weekly excursion to the torture palace. Who knows I might even get addicted to exercise, now wouldn’t that be a hoot!

Till next time.

Jackie Beat - Beaver (Not for the easily offended)

Lady Gaga, Adam Lambert and a Fat Fairy

This past weekend I attended a fabulous star studded birthday party and had the most fun I had in a long time. Rubbing shoulders with the likes of Lady Gaga, Adam Lambert, the Kardashians and John Galliano (to mention but a few) the evening was filled with laughter, booze and 430 paparazzi photographs. Yes as all parties go with “celebrities” the paparazzi was a tad overly eager when it came to the pictorials. And it is these pictorials that opened my eyes to a few not so small changes I urgently need to make before summer.

Saturday hubby and I attended the 40th birthday party of a very good friend of ours. It was a theme party and the brief was to come as your alter ego. Quite a challenging brief and many of the attendees were in a panic a few days prior as discovering your alter ego is more difficult than it may sound. Luckily Google, costume shops and creative makeup techniques lend a hand and came Saturday evening everyone left their homes and arrived at the venue as someone else, much to the delight of the other guests.

The guest of honor arrived as the Absence Fairy and her husband as Jack Sparrow. Other guest included Gary the Tooth Fairy, Zorro, a French Maid, a Playboy Bunny and various representatives of the Armed Forces. With a punch potent enough to be considered illegal this social lubricant did what it was intended for and the group was soon relaxed and all were in a party mood. As the drinks flowed and dancing started Gary the Tooth Fairy and his boyfriend Zorro decided to be the unofficial paparazzi for the evening. While sitting across from Adam Lambert who was gnawing at his nails like a squirrel a nut (to get the Paris Hilton nail polish off) the paparazzi was happily flashing away.

As the evening progressed the party became livelier and the flashing of cameras seemed less intimidating. To say that the guest of honor ended up dancing in the Jacuzzi should suffice in describing the extent of our inebriation, and the fact that all our shenanigans where documented by the paparazzi without any objection, at the time, should further support in this explanation. At around 2am and several coffees later hubby and I headed home and the greater part of Sunday was spent nursing our massive hangovers, swearing of tequila, absence and whatever other alcoholic beverages we have ever had in our lives.

As our heads cleared the faint memory of flashes soon stirred some concern. “Oh my God, did we do anything or were we at all embarrassing?” I worryingly asked hubby to which he responded “If we were I am sure there are pictures!!!” With great apprehension I logged onto Facebook (the portal for mass and immediate embarrassment) and to my relief at 2pm on Sunday no damning photos. Relieved I conveyed the good news to hubby and then his phone rings – it’s the Absence Fairy! “430 photos you’re kidding me, is it going onto the Internet? Oh Nooo!” was the words the almost stopped my heart.

Being pretty sure, but not convinced, that we behaved I had to wait until Monday before the first batch of party photos found their way onto Facebook. Somewhat concerned I opened the party photo album and was horrified!!! You see there are some photos that’s far worse and more embarrassing than any drunken, puking or passed out picture – there were fat photos that make me look 3 months pregnant!!!

“OK, so I haven’t been to the gym in just under a year, but I have been busy and I have had some stress and I am an emotional eater” I whispered to myself in a quivering voice with my cats staring at me with concerned eyes. Looking at some of those photos my denial that I have been packing on some winter blubber was utterly obliterated and I had to face the ugly truth – I got fat! Gaining weight is evil; it’s a gradual process of which you and those who see you often hardly notice until one day. A day your pants no longer fit, you notice a second chin instead of one, a day you see yourself in a photo that not even excessive airbrushing can fix!

With the shock of my weight gain and spring in the Southern Hemisphere of this lovely planet only 7 days away I decided to pull myself together and start a transformation. Today I had my face botoxified (again) and my frown lines filled. Saturday I will have my winter fur ripped out of their follicles and on Monday I will be returning to the palace of torture and I will be sweating and toiling my fat away until till I am ripped again. I will not be like Oprah, and this time I will keep the weight off. Now all that’s left is to get rid of the evidence of this my second fat phase.

Till next time.

ALEJANDRO PARODY! 

The Miracle Cure

Have you been struggling with your weight? Have you tried every diet under the sun and still can't seem to shake off those extra pounds? I sure have, and I know all about it.

Then I discovered this new miracle cure! All of the time it was right in front of my eyes. It's deceivingly simple and really affordable.

What are a few splitting headaches, the occasional vomiting, some memory loss and possible unemployment compared to the perfect body?

Let me share the secret with you and change your life forever.

Just watch this life altering video and soon you too can have the body of a twenty something cheerleader.

Till next time.

Through Thick and Thin

Not everyone likes going to the gym, some people avoid it at all cost as did I. I have heard the gym described as the Gay Church and as the Temple of Torture. Unfortunately there comes a time in one’s life when weight and health issues force you to make a decision. Am I going to let myself go or am I going to get into shape? This happened to me less than three years ago.

One fateful evening in 2006 after getting out of the shower I happened to catch a glimpse of my naked self in the full length bedroom mirror. I paused for a moment, took a second look and froze in horror. Denial could no longer shield me from the toll all the pies, chocolates, crisps and other junk food had taken on my body. There I was on full display and on a closer inspection found a pot belly, love handles, cellulite, a double chin and a face that looked like an over inflated balloon. I was fat! How did this sneak up on me?

In retrospect it didn’t sneak up on me, there were many hints on my lard paved path to podginess. The first hint should have been that my pants no longer fit (I wanted to believe they shrunk). My cats could no longer comfortably lie next to me on the couch as my pot belly was in their way. My face grew rounder and it wasn’t water retention. My weight gain was a gradual process; I didn’t just wake up one morning looking like that. The lack of exercise and the overindulgence on calories gently ushered me into the world of flabbiness.

The very next day my husband and I went on a diet and joined the gym - I didn’t want to suffer alone. After all he did vow to stick with me through thick and thin. I noticed that the gym was divided into three distinct groups: The body builders, the fitness fanatics and the brave fat people (the latter I presume had an epiphany not much unlike mine). My first day at the gym made me feel incredibly insecure: There were so many beautiful bodies in skimpy outfits and there I was in baggy clothes trying to hide my unwelcome additions. I choose to train in the fat sections of the gym, where all our beached whales were desperately trying to return to the ocean. It felt as if everyone was staring at me as I battled and profusely perspired, but in reality nobody actually paid any attention or cared.

The first few months were hell. I despised the Treadmill, Spinning Bike, Rowing Machine and Stairmaster; I pretty much hated everything and every instrument of torment designed for a cardio workout. The first few months I bargained and fought with myself during the middle of each session. Just do 10 more minutes… You know you can do it! Well if you don’t you’ll stay fat! Is that what you want? Well then finish the session fatso!!!

As time passed and the pounds melted away, we became brave enough to participate in the group classes. We were always at the back of the class as neither my husband nor I wanted to embarrass ourselves if we fainted due to over exertion. The first group class was gruelling. I was not as fit as the rest of the regulars and there were a few times I almost passed out, but I proudly persevered. The next day I realized my body underwent an ordeal as every muscle in my body was tender and throbbing, even some muscles I didn’t know I had. Simple tasks like climbing stairs, picking things up and washing my hair were excruciating. Even though it was painful I returned for more like a typical masochist. They say exercise is addictive due to the endorphin fix you get, but I in my case this wasn’t and isn’t true. It was a laborious task that I dreaded but stuck too.

After almost 3 years I lost the weight equivalent of a 4 year old child and I am back to my normal and healthy weight. It has been hard work and exercise has become part of my weekly routine. My husband and I now have joined a new instructor’s class fondly referred to as The Hitler! He works us twice weekly like cheap red light district whores; he has no sympathy and the stamina of a sadistic beast. The fact that he’s damn attractive makes the torture worthwhile and the fact that I transformed my body from marshmallow man to toned and slim makes it even a bigger bonus. That harrowing night in 2006 was a turning point for me. No longer having the metabolism I had in my twenties I now have to pay more attention to what I eat and exercise has become essential in maintaining a healthy body. Luckily this beached whale made it to the ocean with the help of the Temple of Torture, Hitler and lots of sweat, internal battles and tears.

Till next time.

Soccer Practice by Gay Pimp