So, if you’ve seen my earlier post about prepping for February (if not, it’s here), you’ve no doubt that I’ll be falling asleep equally nervous and excited.
A quick content warning: I will be discussing eating disorders and disordered thoughts, in a personal context. I talk also about the improvements I’ve made recently, and question where I’m heading with these goals of ‘fitness’:
I sorely miss dragging a disposable camera around with me. Though these can all be seen on my flickr, I’d say that these are my highlights.
From top to bottom,
Mont Kiara, Kuala Lumpur; Disneyland, Orlando, Summer 2013; Kyoto, January 2014; Melbourne, Winter in the Southern Hemisphere, 2011; Duo Inn, Kyoto, January 2014; NYC, Summer 2013; Melbourne, 2013; Melbourne, Winter in the Southern Hemisphere, 2011.
There are a couple things I love. My little blender, for one, and meringues. And I’ve found a way to combine the two!
A delicious mix of rich vanilla yogurt (fat free), almond milk (unsweetened), baby plums, half a banana, and a hell of a lot of blueberries. The perfect consistency for a crunchy meringue, and a perfect way to balance a-little-sour, out of season fruits with something incredibly sweet.
Details below: Continue reading
This February is bringing in two new hashtags for me: #fitfebruary and #flexifebruary!
I’m excited. Like, super excited.
The first week of January saw me lose my gym membership (damn you, lack of overdraft), invest in the pedometer app ‘Pacer’ and invest in a blender. With no classes or elliptical to turn to, I’ve been painfully lazy, relying only on walking and no-bingeing. As someone whose motivation is, cue huge understatement, ‘lacking’, I’ve found it difficult to get the yoga mat out in the morning. It doesn’t help that I live with six other people and the size of my bedroom rivals that of a wannabe-socialite’s wardrobe.
Many excuses. So February has been appointed month of no excuses; the month of ‘get your head back in the game!’ No more sad memories of how flexible I was, how the scale was more pleasing and my jeans a little looser – all just a few months ago. February has no time for that.
Why wait the extra week, why not start now? Personal reasons. The first being so I have enough time to finish all the junk food that’s left in my cupboards because this miracle-working month begins. Also, money. My income comes in the first week of every month, and right now I’m already deep into my savings account. This makes reinvesting in a gym membership a little bit uncomfortable.
Goals, the plan, the whole spiel – Continue reading
Poland, December 2014. On the train back to Warsaw. A 4AM start brought us to Krakow, to Auschwitz, back to Krakow (and its Christmas market), and then back to Warsaw for a late bedtime. I’ve never had so little sleep over a four day period as I did on this trip. It was spectacular and worth every hour.
Again, Poland, December 2014. Our day spent roaming the streets of the Old Town, Warsaw. We had the spent the evening before watching the lights go on for the Christmas displays (complete with carols, mass crowd, and fireworks!), and then getting mindlessly drunk on wine.
And this, is my lovely flat (featuring me, center stage). Seven of us total, sadly missing Demi from the photo. This was the evening of our Christmas dinner! Mulled wine, Yorkshire puddings, roasted vege. The whole spiel, sub turkey! Bit out of our student price range, that.
Last weekend – a beautiful reunion. The photo on the left is me, Christina and Bonnie. We were the best of friends pre-GCSE, but at the end of year nine both of them moved from Malaysia. Bonnie to Melbourne (where I later moved to, and we were able to catch up and reconnect), and Christina to Bristol. Though I’ve been fortunate enough to see them periodically, they hadn’t seen each other for a whole seven years! It was all very special.
The polaroid on the right is of Hugo and me, looking very cute indeed – if I may say so myself.
Laughing in an exam is never, never a good sign. Sitting in biochemistry, pretending to be Harry in his History of Magic OWL, attempting Legilimens on the girl in front of me. Sadly, said girl didn’t open her paper until the last 15 minutes. Says a lot.
We all knew it was going to be a shit time, and there’s some comfort in group failure. We all trooped out of the oversized hall, grabbed bags and coats, quick-stepping over piles of belongings and spilling-out-of-bag-notes. Eye contact and grimaces, muffled giggles, rushing out and into the stairwells to positively hoot with laughter. We convened by the main doors. Head shakes, more exasperated giggles, and then one word in unison: PUB.
Two hours later we’ve staggered out, back into the cold, and have made it to the train station. St. James’s Park, I say. St. James’s Park? she replies. Isn’t that by the palace, let’s go see the Queen! Okay! I love Liz! We throw ourselves out and onto the platform, split decision as the doors close on our heels.
Ten minutes later we’re eyeing Buckingham Palace, thoroughly confused as to what the hell we’re doing. We end up trying to get a nice photo (failed), and resort to asking a nice foreign man to take a photo of us (also fails). Our successes? Not getting bitten by a swan, glamorous duck watching, and hand feeding a squirrel a hazelnut. Classic.
Exams are rough. All you need is a duck, and fast. Solves everything. Just look at that mallard go.
I grew up in a wonderful place of privilege. In ’98 we moved out to Malaysia, and I wasn’t to leave the penthouse comforts until graduating in 2011.
“Home” is too complex a word for me to apply here. There are questions of culture, of safety. Questions of “do I ache to be back there, when I am away for too long?” and questions of acceptance. A house is not a home, nor is a skyline or cloudscape.
This must be close though.
There is a sweetness I associate with watching the sun rise through the cracks in my curtain. Always a soft pink and gold. So easy for me to stay up, sleepless, to knee-shuffle across my bed and spread my black (but not blackout) curtains, and just watch. The Malaysian sky, remembered from my bedroom window or balcony, is something I will not let go of.
It is intricately linked with time; early starts for school, catching the 7AM bus five mornings a week. With evenings at the pool, gym, or tennis court. With mania and wide eyes; with tears; with questions of god and grandma. Too many memories to forget the sky.
New Year was lonely, even with a bright sky. Pretty though, very pretty. A good, if quiet, way to bring in 2015.