Pink

Yes, you may have noticed, D4D™ is using the horrific pink colour scheme during October, rather than yellow.

The reason? Go Pink for October.

And if you *really* hate the pink? Just choose a different colourscheme up at the top there, just under “Dummies for Destruction”. Simple as that…


Gymmage

Today we’re off doing the “induction” thing at the gym we joined last weekend.

It shouldn’t be much of a struggle – we’ve done this a couple of times before, after all- but it should be the first steps towards getting back into the gym routine.


Weight Loss- Motivators and Demotivators

After the general success of my weight loss over the last two years, I’ve kind of slacked off so far this year, and I’ve seen the effects of it. Of course, I can chuck up a number of excuses, all of which are at least fairly valid – we’ve been busy with the entire moving (twice), total relocation from Berkshire to Norwich, buying the house, working on the house and garden, blah blah blah. All true, all valid.

But at the same time, well, I just couldn’t be chuffed with going to a gym, or whatever. We’ve still been eating sensibly in general, and all the usual dog-walking stuff and the like, but I still just can’t be chuffed with exercising. The other part was that I was leery of joining another gym after the Holmes Place farago at the end of last year. (And even though they’re now owned by Virgin Active, they’re still a bunch of useless shitbags who keep on calling me to go in and try out the place again now it’s been taken over)

I’m working on it again now, mind you – we’ve just joined up with a new local(ish) leisure centre that’s got the gym, the pool, so on and so forth. As yet we’re just trying it out, and bought what they call a “Leisure Card” which’ll give us about a 20-25% discount each time we go, rather than signing up for a year’s contract again. We’ll see how it goes.

I’m also getting the bike repaired and serviced – as I posted over the weekend, I finally got it in to the local cycle shop, so we’ll see how that does while it’s there.

Working on my motivation is something else entirely. I know I need to lose some weight again, but I can’t deny, I find it far too easy to lose motivation on that score – and the main reason for it is something to do with vanity.

You see, in my head, weight loss should equate with changing the size of one’s clothes. I should be able to go from (for example) a 50″ chest to a 40″ – over time, of course, we’re not talking ‘in four weeks’, or from an XL shirt to an L . That’s what weight loss should do – according to my brain, anyway.

But with me, regardless of whether I lose weight or not, I’ll be in the same size clothes. My build is large anyway – my shoulders can’t change or lose weight, neither can my basic chest-size. The majority of my fat is on my stomach, so even trouser sizes won’t drop – the lower half of my body is actually pretty fit, due to lots of walking, so there’s not a lot to lose there either. Yes, I know I’m shallow and all that, but that simple fact of not changing clothing sizes is enough to demotivate me on the entire thing. Pathetic, isn’t it?

Intellectually, I know I need to lose weight again – my stomach region has grown, and I do want to lose that or at least reduce it significantly again. I know I need to do it, and to increase my fitness at the same time. But I also need to change my perceptions or motivators – I need to find something that makes me want to lose weight, because when all’s said and done, my clothing size isn’t going to change for the better, regardless of how much work I do.


Aerosol

This morning, when I got to work, the lift stank of perfume/deodorant. Someone had obviously sprayed it about while they were in there – what the hell, it was early, why not? It was strong enough to make me cough ’til I got out of the lift, but that was it. Nothing special.

Anyway, just in case anyone else complained, I figured I’d let reception know.

And in our amazing Health and Safety paranoid office, this is the resultant email…

[Lyle] entered the right hand lift at [the office] this morning and started to experience breathing difficulties, brought on by the strong smell of perfume present in the lift.
[Health and Safety person in the office] has spoken to [Lyle] since the event and he appears to be Ok.
These events have been reported to health and safety and line managers verbally.
The lift has been placed out of order in the basement until the smell has dissipated, the walls have been wiped down with a neutral cleaning fluid..

I am never reporting anything ever again. I give up.
Bizarre bloody place.


Weight Loss

When I had my medical a couple of weeks back, (which reminds me, I really must write about what fuckwit scumbags Friends Provident areHell, and most people who read D4D™ on any kind of regular basis) know, I’m never going to qualify as a lightweight. Or even a middleweight. Unless I opt for at least a double-amputation, I will always be large, and heavy. It’s unavoidable.
Back at the start of ’06, I did lose a fair amount of weight, admittedly – about three or four stone. I felt a lot better for it, and I managed to keep most of it off. But when the doctor weighed me, I was 21 stone. (That’s about 133kg, for the metric among you) Nowhere near what I used to be (roughly 24 stone) but heavier than I’d expected to be, if I’m honest.
So when all’s said and done, yes, I know I should lose some of that, and at some point I probably will. But right now, I’m just at a point where I can’t be chuffed to do it. Some of it is down to the entirely crap experiences with Holmes Place at the arse-end of last year, which has left me with a pretty negative perspective on the entire fitness, gym, and health-club thing.
Some of it is down to the way everything else in life is going at the moment as well. In short, it’s chaotic – there’s the move, the house-purchase, the wondering what to do next when it comes to work (of which more later in the week) and more importantly the where of that work, and it all just puts the gym and weight-loss things into perspective at the ‘lalalalalala-can’t hear you’ end of the spectrum.
But really, when all’s said and done, and if I’m being completely honest, at the moment I just can’t be bothered with it. I’ve no heavy motivation to lose the weight, and I’m having trouble finding any motivations. Again, if I’m honest, I’m not actually looking all that hard, either.
Even the life insurance and so on that caused me to hae the medical in the first place isn’t a sufficient motivator – at the end of the day, when they decide my premium should go up because I’m a fat bastard, that’s what the premium will be. They won’t change it in a couple of years time, if I’ve lost the weight. Even if I baffled medical science and dropped down to my so-called ideal weight of 13.5 stone, the premium wouldn’t change. I’d still be paying fat-bastard-rate, regardless. Hardly a motivator, is it?


Posters

I’ve written before about the office’s wonderful (if bizarre) Health and Safety initiatives, including the ‘caution: wet floor’ signs you can trip over and the signs on the stairs warning that there may be people on them.

Over the last few days, there’ve been a spate of new posters going up all over the place, warning about slips, falls, dangerous areas and the like. Most of them have images of x-rayed broken hands and the like.

All of these posters have been laminated, and stuck to the walls with dodgy knackered blu-tac stuff. So they fall off the walls again. Because of the subject matter, they’re all in ‘high-traffic’ areas, like the stairwells, communal areas, and the like.

I’m just waiting now for someone to slip on one of these posters and come skating down the stairs, doing themselves a nasty injury along the way. I will laugh – not at the person who’s fallen, but at the concept of the Health and Safety signs being dangerous in certain situations…


Ponky

I don’t know what someone (I suspect it was the guy opposite me, but I’m not certain) on the train had been eating last night, but fuck me dead, they smelled nasty.

This particular someone had farts that could stun a donkey at 50 paces – they smelled like something that’d crawled out of the colon of a long-dead dung-eating mammoth. Truly, truly unpleasant.

Of course, they may have been improved slightly by the addition of warm air in the train carriage, and the fact it’s a pretty much sealed environment. But bloody hell, it was unpleasant.