Keep on truckin’

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So, after my rant, I am back on topic with my six pack story! This week I have added a few new efforts

  • Staying hydrated. Tea, coffee, water, and water plus (water with mint leaves, a squeeze of lemon, a fizzy vitamin C tab, a couple of Mio drops, etc. ) are all on the menu. This is good on its own, for controlling hunger and improving skin tone, but it also means that I get up to walk down the hall more often, if you know what I mean.

 

  • Always take the stairs when reasonable. I usually take the stairs, both up and down, since I only work on the 3rd floor. That is the 4th floor in American, y puede ser la segunda or tercera en castellano (depende de si hay una entresuelo or algo). But first thing in the morning, I go for the lift/elevator so that I can have a chance to check my hair in the mirror, roll up my headphones cord, take off my gloves, get my key card out, etc. But you know what? I can do that after I climb the stairs. So, unless I am carrying a massive heavy box or something, I will be going stairwise.

 

  • Put in the effort to make lunches. Today I almost stopped off at the shop on the way into work to pick up a bento box, but instead, I made a little salad. Gem lettuce, tomato, sesame seed, dried cranberry, and a squeeze of lemon juice instead of dressing. It didn’t take me any longer to make than I would have spent queueing at the shop, so I shall save my pennies and my pounds (that is a pun, or play on words). I also packed a shedload of fruit. That is, if sheds come sized appropriately to house four pieces of fruit.

 

  • Evening ab exercises. I am kind of getting addicted to the stop, drop and give me 20 situps thing I started in the office. I have added a few for those inevitable moments when you have about 4 minutes to kill, but the cups are all returned to the kitchen already and there is not laundry to fold and the rabbit doesn’t need any more hay.

Another photo due next week! And hopefully I will report my personal fat content too, because my office mate said he would bring in his callipers. I always wanted to know my body fat. Should be interesting!

I set myself a challenge…

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Let’s get one thing straight before I hear any shit out of anyone. I am not fat. I know it, you know it. It is not even an issue. I am pretty happy with body right now, both for appearance and in terms of health.

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Let’s get another thing straight. I decided to take on a challenge of getting six pack abs in six months for my own damn self. Not to please my partner, not to conform to some idiotic, socially derived unrealistic ideal of what a woman’s body should be like, not to impress anyone.

In fact, let’s get one last thing out of the way. I don’t think more than two people will even see my abs, six packed or not. I have not had any occasion to wear a swimsuit or otherwise show my belly in public in almost two years.

So, I hear you cry out en masse, why am I putting myself through the reasonably difficult challenge of getting a six pack at all if I am already happy with my body and not even planning on letting anyone see it? Because I want to feel strong. STRONG!

And awesome. Awesomely strong.

Think of it like this. Have you ever worn special underwear underneath a completely not special outfit on an utterly not special day? Just a regular outfit for a normal day. But the underwear, that no one can see, that no one even knows about at all… ah. That is special. Maybe it is sexy-special, or funny-special, or weird-special, or functional-special, or just brand-new-special. Or maybe it is special in that it is absent altogether when you normally never go commando. Whatever. It doesn’t matter why it is special to you, but you know about it and no one else does. It is a little secret for you, that colours your entire day full of interactions with an oblivious world, that makes everything seem just that little bit… oooh.

Having a secret like that makes me feel powerful. And more importantly, I think real power is when no one else even knows that you have the power. Have you ever been dealt an awesome hand in poker? That hand can be a real knock-out, but you have to keep it secret, exactly the right amount of secret, and let someone else thing that they have it all sewn up.

That is what I want from my future six pack. I want that feeling of having a secret, just for me, to keep at the back of my mind. It adds a bit of mental spice to everything that happens to me in my normal humdrum, ordinary life, and makes me feel powerful. So powerful that I can keep it to myself and let everyone else in the dark precisely as long as I want to.

So you will not be surprised to know that I am not linking this blog to any of my other online life. No promoting it on social media, no sending a link to my pals. Nothing. This blog may never even be read by any one else. Which is maybe like another little secret for me. Look out world. I am coming up strong.