Looking back over the posts from my hacked blog, Fatgirlslimblog,
Has been an interesting exercise. Sometimes there have been difficult decisions over what to keep and what to delete. This post from August 2012 very nearly ended up in the delete file. The reason I decided to keep it was partly because of the important lesson it taught me and partly because there have been a few rather downbeat posts of late so I thought it was time to inject a little humour.
August 19, 2012
Yesterday was a beautiful sunny day. I know, I know, this is England but I am living on ‘the sunny south coast’ and we do get the occasional one. I decided I was going to spend as much time as possible outside in said sunshine to a) keep the Moroccan tan topped up and b) try and get the jungle that used to be my garden tamed. As soon as I’d finished my weekend treat pain au chocolate breakfast, plus a nice cooling bowl of melon as a reminder of Agadir, and had a quick shower I put on a skimpy little dress, mentally apologising to any neighbours who might accidentally catch sight of the wobbly belly and cellulite thighs and be put off their breakfast, and got out there.
Commando takes care of the grass because his perfectionist tendencies mean no one else can do it properly and he only has to do it all over again if we try to help, so that’s one one less thing for me to worry about. Even so, there was enough chopping back and weeding to keep me going for the whole day, with the odd stop for food to break things up and give the arms and legs a rest.
By now you are probably wondering if I live in a quaint little cottage with acres of land round it. I can assure you I don’t, I live in a normal little semi detached house with a smallish triangular back garden and a medium sized front garden, due to the fact that our house is on the corner. The problem is that, due to my love of all things green, it’s stuffed to overflowing with all sorts of plants, not to mention the little veg plot at the bottom by the shed and the tubs at the side. With the wet summer we’ve had so far and the sudden onset of sunshine it’s all gone completely crazy and needs chopping back pronto so we can actually get to the front door and the poor postie doesn’t get lost in the undergrowth. I was a little concerned I was going to find a skeleton in post office uniform during my chopping spree to be honest, the post has been sporadic recently to say the least.
Late in the afternoon, when I finally gave up and decided to leave the rest for another day, it occurred to me that I’d not done a great deal of drinking all day. This revelation came to me shortly after I collapsed on the leather sofa in the gym and detected a bit of an achy feeling in the back of my head. Despite peeling my sweaty limbs off said sofa to get a bottle of water from the fridge (note to self, leather sofas and bare limbs on a hot day are not a good combination) the achy feeling quickly turned into a migraine of epic proportions.
In Morocco, I’d been happily glugging back at least four litres of water on a daily basis. Summer in Southern England may not be anywhere near as hot but it’s hot enough to need at least two litres, three or more if you count sweaty chopping back of vegetation type exercise. All I can recall actually drinking all day was the fresh orange juice at breakfast and three cups of coffee kindly supplied by Commando Junior. Maybe the lack of toilet breaks should have alerted me earlier, my famous peanut sized bladder usually means a trip to the loo at least once an hour, I only recall going once, at lunch time. Epic fail.
Let this be a warning to anyone who doesn’t think hydration is important. It is. When the weather is hot, especially if you’re exercising as well, drinking plenty of water is a must. Most people need about two litres a day in normal circumstances, more in hot weather and about another litre for every hour of sweat producing exercise completed. I really need to heed my own advice.
Today, the head feels better, if a little like someone took my brain out and boil washed it during the night causing it to shrink. So, having learned my lessons from Saturday, I decided to relax on the sun bed with a bottle of cold water beside me. I wish our sun beds were as sturdy as the ones in the Royal Atlas. Theirs are made of hardwood and have wheels at one end so they’re easy to move about, they also have nice comfy padded covers and little clip on drinks trays. Ours, on the other hand, are made of flimsy aluminium tubing covered with cheap cotton fabric.
Late last year we had an incident. Commando and I were sitting side by side when there was a loud ripping sound and he sank, not very gracefully, onto the grass as the fabric had ripped away from the frame. I started laughing, well it was quite comical, and there was another loud ripping sound. I was unceremoniously dumped onto the grass beside Commando who was still tangled in his sun bed laughing.
Because they are cheap and cheerful we bought the same ones this year. I know it’s a false economy but what can I say, I was being made redundant. We’ve hardly used them because of the rubbish weather but the fabric on my sun bed looked decidedly stretched. I must admit to sitting rather gingerly waiting for the rip. I’m a lot bigger than I was last summer and I think my sun bed knows it. It was hard to relax. I spent the afternoon afraid to move and wondering whether my, much wider, backside would actually sink between the tubing to the grass or if I’d get wedged half way. Next year I’m making sure we buy something a bit more sturdy. Come to that, next year I need to make sure I’m smaller and less paranoid.
Interesting and sorry about the ripped sunbeds, very annoying.
We replaced them last year with wooden ones. Much more sturdy