Operation getting fit – day 1

Last year, I turned 40. I can, unashamedly, say that I love being 40.  I love being able to use the excuse that I am too old for something when it suits me, but at the same time, being able to kick the dust in some youngsters’ faces occasionally.  Like the scene from Fried Green Tomatoes where Evelyn is cut off in a parking lot and the girl retorts “Face it lady, we’re younger and faster”.  Evelyn then rear-ends them six times and when they ask her if she’s crazy, she replies “Face it, girls, I’m older and have more insurance”.  Gotta love it!

Unfortunately, with age comes the increased risk of all sorts of illnesses that you disregard when you are young.  Heart disease, coronary diseases, the list is never ending…(I swear they add a new disease every day).

And of course I know the spiel…

1. Eat healthy – well I try most of the time, normally more successfully during the week. And there are some advantages to working out in the sticks…like the lack of Sandton lunch spots.
2. Don’t smoke – yay!, at least one I can tick without a ‘but’.  Unless you count the occasional hubby bubbly…
3. Limit the alcohol intake…well, I am sure my few-times-a-week glass and a few more catch up glasses on weekends are still within the normal range…
4. Watch the weight – that’s a tricky one, as I (like I mentioned before) don’t have the skinny gene…but I try and watch my dress size so that I can avoid the bathroom scale…
5. Drink lots of water – that I do, although occasionally it does slip my mind… If I remember, you may see me demonstrate my impressive skill of chugging 2 big glasses of water at once…(which reminds me)
6. Exercise regularly – bugger…(question…what is the weighting of this risk?)

So, there is my lifetime struggle…exercising regularly…

At school I seriously sucked at sports.  Big time.  I was always the one who lagged 50m behind the rest of the girls in athletics (you know the one who gets a gold star for trying).  I could not throw a javelin, discus or shot put if my life depended on it.  I am very short, so trying to do any jumping was in complete vain (I think they only made me try for the laugh).  The only thing I was good for during the athletics season was my contribution to the spirit trophy, which meant screaming until I could not speak.  In matric, with my friend’s help, I managed to train for longer distance and ended up doing the 3500m run (came last, but I managed to finish, which was the aim).  But, man, that was a lot of laps around the track!!

The only exercise related ‘thing’ I ever really enjoyed at school, was dancing.  Oooh how I loved dancing.  At the ‘skool sokkies’  you would definitely find me dancing all night.  I had endless energy.  Start playing the music and I had no stop button.  I was like the Duracell bunny, I could just go on and on and on.

When I started working and hit my mid 20s I realised I had to do something to enable me to eat out at fancy restaurants and not turn into the Oros man.  I tried gymming, and hated it.  I tried it a few times (actually, let me rephrase, I joined the gym a few times).  Most of the time I ended up going a couple of times, and got fairly irritated by standing in queues, waiting for an exercise bike or something to become available (after driving around for 10 minutes to find parking).  Once I gave up after the condescending trainer guy did my evaluation, pinched my arms with some silly tool and declared that the fat percentage in my arms were far too high and that I had something like 10kg’s to loose.  If I did, I would have weighed about what I did in school (they really should teach those guys a bit about motivating).  From embarrassment or stubbornness (don’t know which), I did not go again.  On one occasion I signed up for a one year gym contract over the phone (you know those pestering phone calls, playing on your guilty conscience).  I never collected my membership card.

The only exercise I have been able to sustain for more extended periods of time (i.e. more than 2 months), have been walking and Pilates.  I love walking.  And I love doing Pilates.  Unfortunately, on the walking side, I lived in a small complex for the last 10 years where walking soon became tedious, as you might as well walk around an athletic track if you are going to walk around in the same 40-unit complex day after day.

Pilates was passed on once my kids got bigger and I got tired of driving way out for classes in the middle of the night.  I have tried a few Pilates studios again over the years, but I really need something to be almost on my way home, else I will not get there.  The last attempt lasted about 3 months, until I realised that it was virtually impossible for me to get to the studio on time for the 6pm start.  The last time I went, I ended up picking my sweats up on the go (the girls passing me the bag at the gate of our complex), and getting dressed in the car (it was dark) and STILL arriving 15 minutes late.  (Btw, do you know how difficult it is to put trainers on in a car??)  As this was the how many-eth time I was late in so many weeks, I was too embarrassed to ring the entrance bell and went to Woolies to get dinner instead.  Haven’t been back since….(the Pilates class, that is…Woolies sees me very regularly)

Last week I went on a GNO (girls’ night out) with some friends to the Barnyard.  I love the Barnyard.  A combination of some of my favourites: music (live music, nogal, with really sexy musicians), wine and dancing.  Well, we always end up dancing when I go to the Barnyard.  (The first time I ever went to the Barnyard, a small vein in my hand burst…very painful…from all the clapping…true’s bob).  So, the Barnyard…I ended up going home with sore feet and a voice that was breaking (from the singing, you know).  But worst of all was when I tried to get out of bed the next morning!  I could barely walk.  This got progressively worse over the next couple of days.  My calves were so stiff I had to wear heels on the weekend to make it bearable!

So, I finally decided that I have to do something.  And since I don’t have the excuse of living in a small complex anymore (as I moved to a large estate in June), I lugged myself out of bed this morning and went for a brisk 20 minute walk.  (I also lugged both girls out of bed at sparrows’ fart, not sure how long that will last!).  But I am adamant that I will continue.  And as I get fitter, I will increase the distance, maybe start jogging, but fit I will get.  No way I am letting some silly fitness get between me and a good party!!

For now, I am learning a new routine (how many times to you need to repeat something to form a new routine again???).  Of course, it will always be nice to find myself a BF who can join me in my exercise routine….but I doubt it will be walking though 🙂

 

Fake it till you make it

Last week I was out dining with a friend. Actually, let me rephrase that…we were both out dining and we were at some singles’ evening trying not to make it too obvious that we were flatly ignoring this boring guy at our table…but alas, that’s a story for another day… So, we were out dining and discovered we have something in common. And no, it was not that we finished school in the same year, or did the same subjects at school or were both in Knysna on 9/11 (I really have a friend with whom I have those things in common!!). In fact, we discovered that we both have moments where we feel we are faking it.

But before your mind starts wandering to all sort of things you can fake….let me explain! I came from a humble background and worked hard in school (the maths geek, remember). And I worked hard at varsity and I somehow managed to get some great opportunities and be successful, but I certainly would never in my wildest dreams have imagined myself to Ms Executive by the age of 41. Please don’t ask me what I was thinking I would be, because despite all my well practised answers in interviews when I finished varsity (‘Where do you see yourself in five year’s time?’), I did not have a clue where I was going or what I imagined myself to be. All I knew was that I would make it if I was given a chance. I don’t do failing.

By the time I finished articles at the age of 26, I did not recognise myself…somewhere along the line I picked up confidence that I did not think I had. Most of it I gained by surprising myself. I would tackle some new project or task thinking ‘Oh my word, I REALLY don’t know if I can do this’, but pretending I could. ‘Yes, sure! Of course I can do that.’ And lo and behold, I managed to do it. Over and over again. They say repetition forms habits…by surprising myself time and again I formed a new habit…confidence.

Discovering the ‘power suit’ was another light bulb moment. There is nothing that beats making yourself feel important and high powered like wearing a ‘power suit’. Whenever I feel I need a little bit of confidence for an important meeting it is always good to turn to a tailored suit that was preferably bought somewhere in London or New York (or good ol’ Sandton City) :-). And of course shoes!! Nothing like wearing a pair of heels that cost the price of a one-way ticket to London for a confidence boost…

And I am competent… I consider myself a good (albeit non typical) accountant. I (think) I have the right balance between technical knowledge and a feel for what will work from a practical perspective. I have good interpersonal skills, so generally I have gotten along with most of my work colleagues, bosses, teams, subordinates. A partner at Deloitte, where I spent 8 long and happy years, once told me that my client (who hated the firm) thought I was the best thing since sliced bread. I have been tempted to put that on my CV a few times…

But despite that, I have my moments when I feel like a fraudster. I have these visions of someone coming up to me and asking me ‘Aren’t you that girl who lived next to the railway in Eloff?’ And that they will see right through me and past the ‘power suit’ and the Jimmy Choos and see the little girl who is still surprised that she managed to pull this off. See the teenager who had no idea what to do one day and liked solving maths problems more than trying out some typical teenager stuff (like smoking and drinking and…).

But then I look back at my career, what I managed to achieve, my kids (who are much smarter than I was and definitely have a LOT more confidence than I ever had), my house that the bank owns but are letting me use because they believe I am ‘good for it’ and I realise that it wasn’t just by fluke that I got here. That it wasn’t like opening a lucky packet or rubbing a magical lamp with a genie inside, but that I got here all by myself (damn Bridget Jones again…).

And it wasn’t always moonlight and roses. If anything, the last 20 years have taught me that you really can learn from your experiences. And that when you set your mind to it, you can overcome most things. And I am the ultimate optimist. I always look for the silver lining even in the darkest thunderstorm. Sometimes I just see the thunder…but a girl can dream…:). I found this quote last year when life looked pretty bleak…

Optimist: someone who figures that taking a step backward after taking a step forward is not a disaster, it’s a cha-cha. ~Robert Brault

And maybe one day when I am travelling the world as the youngest 60+ year old (I want my kids to beg me to come home for a while, mom, we miss you..), I will believe that this is my real life (and i will do the cha-cha). That I deserve to be here. Until then, I will fake it till I make it 🙂

 

This is me…damnit!

After four weeks on a dating website, I have now made a few small observations (and some big ones), read hundreds of profiles, looked at probably thousands of pictures and I guess solely based on my own experiences, I realised it is all about first cyber impressions (yeah, I know I am a slow learner). Most guys are honest, caring, love to spoil the woman in their life…blah, blah, blah… So I am very tempted to completely change my profile (more particularly the section on why someone should get to know me). And, frankly I am also tempted to just delete the profile, but I have a three months’ subscription….

However, I suspect I may end up sounding like a snob or an opinionated babe-in-total-control-of-herself (B-I-T-C-H), so decided to do a trial run…

Why you should get to know me

Sorry to disappoint, but I am not an ordinary girl looking for an ordinary boy. I can write 100 words about how caring and fun loving I am and how I am just looking for a like minded guy out there who can share my passions for music, food, travelling etc. (which incidentally I do, but so does everyone else)

So I thought I would rather tell you what puts me off and also what potentially will put you off about me…!

I am an accountant, a bean counter, or if you prefer my modern version of the bean counter…a very expensive calculator. But before you stereotype me and put me in the corner with all the other grey suited accountants that you know…I think (and have been told) that I am not quite the typical accountant. Of course I have an analytical brain and an affinity for numbers, but I also have a passion for people.

When I say I love to laugh, I mean it…but I also have a bit of an odd sense of humour and if you are easily embarrassed by someone who will laugh out loud in a restaurant, causing other patrons to turn around and look, then I am maybe not for you. And I will shrivel up and die with someone who cannot see the bright side of life. Also, there is a distinct chance that once you meet some of my friends that some embarrassing stories about me will surface (despite all my threats). Me, embarrassing myself, is not a reflection on you…

I love food. I love eating out and I absolutely love cooking and entertaining. For most people who do not have the skinny gene (go ahead…Google it), this translates into ‘not a skinny girl’. That does not mean that I do not watch what I eat, and it also does not mean that you need to book two seats for me in a movie theatre, but when I say am curvaceous it means I have curves (in hopefully all the right places). But don’t worry, my BMI index is still in the upper-end-of-the-normal range. More importantly, I am comfortable with my body.

I am a bit of an intellectual snob who will always have at least a couple of books on my bedside table. I am one of those people who will spot all the spelling mistakes on notice boards. I grew up Afrikaans, so I am absolutely aware of the fact that I still make grammatical errors too…but when you say in your catch line that you are looking for a ‘pritty frame’ then I will skip over you, doesn’t matter how sexy you look!

I am 41 years old and there is nothing wrong with my female hormones. But like I told a guy who made a bit of an indecent proposal to me (after I said I was not interested in threesomes), I quite enjoy dessert, but prefer it after dinner.

I love music and if there is a dance floor and music playing, you will know where to find me. I don’t mind too much if you don’t want to dance with me all night, but if you are going to sit in a corner with an ‘act-your-age’ look on your face, then I am definitely not the one for you. Which reminds me that I actually don’t like to act my age. Sure, I can and will be responsible and I will never embarrass you at a formal dinner with your boss or new clients…I think I know when to let my hair down.

So, if you’re still reading and nodded your head a couple of times/smiled/chuckled…drop me a line and we can chat!

Yeah, I know, I might as well change my catch phrase to ‘Run, Forest, run’…will have to give it another shot…:-)

 

Here, have a glass of wine…

You must have seen the email going around with the ‘Hormone guide’. There are different scenario’s and suggested phrases for men to use to cope with the female hormonal fluctuations…from dangerous to ultra safe. For example, it would be dangerous to ask “What’s for dinner?”; safer to say “Can I help you with dinner?”; safest to say “Would you like to go out for dinner?” and the ultra safe option, time and again, is “Here, have a glass of wine”…:). I think I need have this printed on a pin up….

So, okay…I am a sucker for a good glass of wine. There is nothing quite like having a glass of vino while throwing together a quick dinner in the evening to relax me. Ideally I would like to have a handsome hunk handy to fill up my glass while I chop away at the onions and herbs like a pro, and toss the el dente pasta with some freshly made pesto…but let’s not have the mind wandering here… I am sure you get the point…(and I watch too many cooking shows)

I cannot resist buying wine… One day when I grow up I want to have a house with a wine cellar, but while I dream of that, I end up stacking unopened boxes with wine around the house. For a rainy day? I am not sure, but at least I will never run out of wine! I have about three or four people phoning me on a regular basis to ask me if I want to buy wine. A typical conversation goes like this…

“Hi my friend, it’s Daisy here.” My mind starts planning an escape route….”I haven’t spoken to you in a while” (didn’t she phone me last month or was that the girl from Cape Town who always makes small talk about the weather…). Unaware of my tumultuous thoughts, Daisy continues “So the reason for my call is that we have a special on red/white (delete as appropriate) wine for this month only from (insert wine estate) and we are offering it to our special clients at a discounted price”. Note to self, I need to check the prices at Makro. Last month (or the month before) I very effectively bypassed her with a comment about soooo much wine still at home, and then she offered me a voucher for free accommodation to Mauritius with it (only for special clients, you know..). What the heck….

Or the other time, after I explained that I still have so many red wines left over, the Cape Town lady (Saskia…it’s all coming back to me now), interrupted me gently and explained that “it is that Cap de Classique that you like so much”. Now, who can say no to 6 bottles of bubbly?? Not me…

So, I am very proud of myself that I went to a wine festival this weekend and only bought two bottles of wine….(Okay, I did give my details to someone who is going to phone me about a well priced Cap de Classique…but that’s not the point). Tasted some lovely wines (and cheeses, bubbly and was that Grappa??), and chatted to all the estates. How else would I have met The Weather Girl 2009…a lovely Sauvignon Blanc, Semillion blend that’s has a 5 Star John Platter rating. You can take her anywhere and she will keep you company in any strange hotel room, like the weather girl on the TV. Sounds like the type of wine you can have by yourself on a Friday night?? (Is that Bridget Jones and “All by myself” that I am hearing?).

In the meanwhile, maybe I should spend some time labelling the wines that I have, making an inventory listing (ageing analysis?)…apparently there are some nice apps on the iPad. Stuff that, I think I need to have a big party and share some wine…then I don’t have to find excuses not to buy wine…

Which reminds me that I am running low on white wine and it is summer after all????