Are you crisis-proof?

Hmmm.... it seems that Fearful Jane has been around for the last few weeks, taking up a LOT of space in my head.

On 14 March, I decided to take a giant step. I put my toe into the water and tested what it feels like to embark on another career journey. For the last eight years, I have run my own business. It has been eight years of dizzying highs and soul-crushing lows. Building a business from nothing and then holding the reins as it gains incredible momentum is a crazy ride. Looking around me, I think I've come to the realisation that it's not a ride I want to be on anymore.

This sense of uncertainty about the future and what it holds has allowed Fearful Jane to take over for a number of weeks now. She is terrifically scared about what comes next, about whether this is a sign of failure and about whether working for someone else is going to be easier or harder than being self-employed.

Unfortunately, Bikini Jane has been pushed right out of the picture over the last few weeks. Her dreams and ambitions have been brushed aside to make room for all this anxiety.

I'd really like to know how other people compartmentalise their lives so that one aspect doesn't adversely affect  another... it seems I need to build a wall around Bikini Jane, so that nothing else can get to her, and so she can maintain her space in my head.

How does everyone else deal with dilemmas while they're trying to get things in order with health and fitness? It feels like the disorder is bigger than the order right now... but I'm going to try and fix it. Hopefully, I can create a small amount of order, inside those walls that I'll build around Bikini Jane's headspace.

Flip The Bird

Where did the last couple of weeks go?? I'll tell you where they went...up and down a zillion stairs and across tonnes of beach sand! I've been Bootcamping.

I'm not as fit as everyone else (in fact, I'm ridiculously slow inside this fat suit). However, I have broken through a confidence barrier that has stopped me from giving things a go in the past. Up until now, I really was a mess whenever I thought I would have to reach outside my comfort zone. Always thinking that someone would be watching and sniggering at my feeble attempts, Nervous-Nelly Jane would take hold and simply refuse to do anything that might attract the wrong kind of attention.

I have now realised that there is a giant chasm between what is fiction (inside Nervous-Nelly Jane's head) and what is fact.

So, here are the facts:

1. No-one else gives a flying fig if I'm puffing and snorting up and down the beach... in fact, I get a lot of encouragement from others in the group and from complete strangers, who urge me to keep going.

2. By giving it a go, I might actually inspire someone else to give it a try

3. I'm old enough to cope if ever someone does jeer at me from a passing car. I'm nearly 40 and, at this age, I can flip the bird pretty well ;)

Bootcamp? Bring It!

I've hauled the fat suit off to Bootcamp! After reading so many wonderful stories about 'Bootcamp' and how everyone enjoys it so much, I decided to grab a friend and drag her along with me to our see our local 'Sarge' so that we could both get whipped into gear. Upon hearing the plan, my nearly-65-year-old mother announced that she was going to join us.... oh the shame of having your arse kicked by a pensioner....
 

Driving to the beach for our first session, and the mood was, well, 'tense' to say the least. I was downright terrified, to be completely honest, and extremely nervous about whether my life insurance cover would still apply if I happened to pop my clogs on the beach. I could see the grizzly headline in the paper: Woman Dies After Lungs Explode!

Let's face it - I have never been an athlete. As a child, despite being a normal weight, poor co-ordination and the sheer panic in my eyes when anyone mentioned 'sport' had always resulted in being  picked last for teams. That's dead last. Even after the chubby kid with glasses, a back brace and one leg...

Anyway, Nervous-Nelly Jane had to nick off. There was going to be no place for her on Bootcamp, quivering like a leaf. We had to call on Bring-It! Jane, who promptly kicked Nervous-Nelly Jane fair up the arse and took over.

Now, the fat suit is one heavy MOFO, so it was still hard going, even with Bring-It! Jane at the helm. But we did it... and we even went back for a second serve yesterday.... and we're going again tomorrow....

As Mish says (oh, and so does Bring-It! Jane)... Just Friggin' Do It!!

Want to find your closest Bootcamp? Check it out here.

PMT vs. GST

OK, so PMT Jane has arrived for the month of March. We always greet her on the waning moon, when she comes storming through the door with her teeth clenched, ready to rip someone's lungs out.... and we patiently await her departure, when we can resume a peaceful existence.

PMT Jane is not a very happy camper at the best of times but when she's faced with illogical ASIC requests,  BAS horror, PAYG, GST, help lines that are 'busy' and messages announcing that 'your call is unlikely to be answered this century', she really primes herself to dispatch someone.

It is not a pleasant feeling in this body this morning. Since she arrived, it seems that every email, every contact with the outside world, releases new homicidal tendencies.

Something needs to change and PMT Jane is on her soapbox, strongly declaring that the Australian-Tax-Cluster-F**k is the first thing that needs to go. As she says, why, oh WHY do we have to pay such ridiculous taxes and why, oh WHY do we have to work with accountants to help us figure it all out?

Listen, if you're an accountant, I applaud you for your attention to detail, your ability to work in a field that no-one else would touch with a barge pole and your intrinsic ability to count beans. But please ask yourself, is there no way that this could all be done, without my input? Is it at all possible that an accountant fairy could just pay a visit once in a while, file all the pieces of paper, find all the necessary receipts, keep accurate records and, most importantly, not ask me any stupid questions? I am a business owner, not a bloody Magic 8-Ball. (He or she would have to work for free as well - I'm sick to death of paying everyone.)

That said, let's talk 12WBT. PMT Jane is a pretty tough character when she's mad but can easily flip to a big  jelly mess and bawl her eyes out, without notice. Either way, she's not exactly friggin' stable. Now that Stuff-Your-Face Jane has been banned from showing up during emotional peaks and troughs, PMT Jane is looking for a new mate.

Without Stuff-Your-Face Jane here to push all those negative emotions down, PMT Jane might just have to satisfy her blood lust and actually murder someone. If an accountant dies under suspicious circumstances, you'll know who did it.

P.S. If your name is Nicole and you sent a message through to me yesterday via the Contact Bikini Jane link,  I know you work with accountants and that you could, in fact, be an evil accountant yourself!....In any case, thank you for your message - I'm glad you had a laugh and that you're enjoying this blog while you're at work (which leads me to believe that you're probably not an accountant). Another thing that is driving PMT Jane to distraction is that I can't reply to you personally because the STUPID CONTACT FORM didn't send your email address to me :/ Grrr. I will need to fix it. Have a great day, Nicole.

Victim Schmicktim!

Ok, so Woe-Is-Me Jane has packed her bags and left, in search of some other soul to inhabit because she's really not welcome here any more.

Always moaning and bitching about something, she loved to play the victim and always had a mountain of reasons for why the weight just kept creeping up.

Childhood traumas, divorced parents, a broken marriage, sadness, depression, anxiety. Really, anything from  total crisis to mild boredom and Woe-Is-Me Jane would claim it as an excuse to let Stuff-Your-Face Jane out and allow Lazy Jane to sit around, staring at the wall.

Well, she's pissed off somewhere else now and it's really good to feel like the power is back here, internally, rather than with something external. Now that she's gone, nothing else is in control of my actions. I can choose to feel however I want to feel. I can choose to do whatever I want to do. That's an amazing realisation. How I choose to deal with problems is completely up to me - and me alone. I could choose to throw a trantrum, I could choose to lock myself away in solitude, I could choose to go to bed for a week. I could choose to eat everything in sight, I could choose to go for a walk, I could choose to run. Whatever. The point is, it's 100% my choice. No-one holds a gun to my head so I have total free will to choose every one of my actions and reactions.

Therefore, from this day forward, I choose not to react to any heightened emotion by sending Stuff-Your-Face Jane into bat. Stuff-Your-Face Jane will be allowed out very occasionally, under special conditions and with rules to follow, but never during an emotional low or an emotional high. The end.

Measuring Up

OK - so I was pretty determined last Wednesday not to let a 'no loss' week get me down.

Stuff-Your-Face Jane has gone off sulking somewhere, because she hasn't been around all week and I've whipped Alcho Jane into submission, so she's behaving herself too. Lazy Jane has disappeared altogether and I doubt she'll bother coming back until at least next Sunday, when she can take advantage of the next 'rest day'.

It's interesting to note that my level of happiness has been quite disproportionate to the number on the scales.... I have been over-the-moon, bouncing-up-and-down, grinning-like-a-fool, exuberantly HAPPY. I haven't had one episode of feeling down, cranky, disappointed, moody, snappy, resentful - NONE! And that's all despite that 'no loss' Wednesday...

So what's going on? How can a woman, who's been fighting the flab so hard, be happy? I've come to the conclusion that it's all down to just one thing - movement. For the past god-knows-how-many years, this body has been spreading itself out, all over the couch, and every time someone's mentioned the word 'exercise', Lazy Jane has taken over, scowled and been pissed off about the whole idea. As it turns out, she was wrong to call the shots all the time so she's going to have to get used to just turning up on Sundays from here-on-out.

Yesterday, the Super Saturday session didn't result in a huge calorie burn. It seems that 'push-ups' and this body aren't entirely compatible just yet - any observer would assume they were witnessing a bunch of strange convulsions rather than 'push-ups' but by week 12, I'm sure they'll be more recognisable.

To make up the 'burn numbers', I took the dog for some soft sand walking  Out on the beach with my little pooch, it was a fantastic morning, snorting my way through the dunes and absolutely LOVING IT!

Today, I couldn't help myself... I just had to have a peek at my measurements. The scales might have been slow off the mark a few days ago, but lordy, lordy, that tape measure is showing some serious results!

Left Thigh - down 1 cm
Right Thigh - down 0.5 cm
Left Arm - down 2 cm
Right Arm - down 2 cm
Hips - down 2 cm
Chest - down 5.5 cm
Waist - down a whopping 12 cm!!

A quick calculation, and I'm pretty proud of myself - I've melted 25cm off my fat suit (that's 9.8 inches for any old-school readers) since my first measurements were taken on Sunday 10 February 2013 -  that's 25cm in just 2 weeks! You can't argue with those numbers. 12WBT is the SHIT!

Have a great Sunday, everyone, and keep giving it everything you've got!

Road Hazard?

It's time to really reflect on whether or not I'm a danger on the road.

Since starting the 12WBT, I have been so absorbed in the program, I have had a few moments that could be considered 'vague' at the very least. The last time I was so blissfully ignorant of my surroundings was when I was pregnant, 14 years ago.

Let me give you some examples:

1. On Wednesday, I planned to meet a friend and go for a walk when we dropped our girls off for dance classes. When I got to the dance studio, I was scrambling around with my water bottle and car keys while frantically trying to get my mobile phone into my pants' pocket. Only after several attempts did I finally look down to discover that my clothes were inside-out.... Nice.

2. Charged out of the house yesterday afternoon for my 'red' walk, leaving no-one at home. I'm on the way back, with about 20 minutes to go when the phone rings...Here's the conversation:

HUSBAND: Where are you?.... 

SELF: *pant" *snort* 'Just...(pant) ...out (pant)....walking' (pant).

HUSBAND: How long have you been gone?

SELF: (pant) About (pant) 40 (pant) minutes (pant)

HUSBAND: Oh right. Do you know you left the garage door open and the house unlocked?

SELF: Oh (pant) really (pant)?

3. Now picture this: Earlier in the week I'm cleaning the house like Linda Blair on speed, with my industrial vacuum  cleaner strapped onto my back, so I look quite similar to a ghost-buster. I come flying out of the bedroom with about 20 miles of electrical cord trailing behind me, when the self-closing bedroom door closes and wrenches me backward like a cartoon dog on a lead.

A fitting end to my cleaning frenzy, I tried to turn the vacuum cleaner off but it kept turning back on, so I assumed that I'd rooted the cord and left the whole thing out for above-mentioned husband to fix. On his return home, I explained the situation (which resulted in two curiously raised eyebrows) and he went to assess the damage. Here's the conversation:

HUSBAND: (holding two wires) Any idea what these might be?

SELF: Ummm... nope.

HUSBAND: You've ripped the live wires out of the switch!

SELF: Oh, OK.

HUSBAND: Lucky you didn't touch them. - that's 240 volts!

SELF: Oh, OK.

So, you see, I'm really rather dangerous at the moment... but blissfully euphoric, so that's...oh... OK!

50 Shades of Red

There was a distinct possibility that someone was going to stop their car today and offer me CPR. Shaving a good 10 minutes off my usual walking route, I absolutely BELTED it out this afternoon, with intermittent running. Even the dog was completely exhausted by the time we got back home. As I came panting through the front door, my husband greeted me and and exclaimed, 'Shit, you're really red!'.... and he looked mightily impressed! So, girls, forget 50 Shades of Grey... we're going 50 Shades of Red!

 

Clean Freak

Whatever workout works! I've just burnt 550 calories, by literally running around my house, cleaning! Eat your heart out, Shannon Lush!

Oh yes, things are about to get ugly...

Have you ever been dunked and held under water?

Stage One:  you try and relax, reassuring yourself that you will be freed without any need to struggle... but then, Stage Two: something takes over and you can't help but try and push a bit, to let your captor know that you don't want to play their game.... but they still hold you down, laughing at your feeble attempts to escape. Stage 3: your fight response lights up in your adrenal cortex and you really kick and scratch, your body goes into overdrive, attacking with all its strength and giving everything you've got.

This fat layer that engulfs me is just like that- it's claustrophobic in here and I've been sitting back on Stage One, hoping it will just let go...but it's not going to be that easy. The fat suit is one of those cruel bastards that likes to smirk and jeer while holding me under.

This last week, I gave a bit of a push and started Stage Two, trying to reason with it and let it know that it's time to be nice and release me from its grip. But, no. The flab is pumped up and looking for a fight - it wants to show how powerful it is so it's just sitting there, putting all its energy into sticking around and holding me under. So, dear reader, I think it might be time to ramp up a level and give it a taste of Stage 3.

This week, I'm going to rain an absolute shit-storm down on it. Let's see who comes off second best!

Road Kill

Tuesday morning, so the alarm went of a 5.45 am. I opened my eyes, rolled onto my side and checked out the fat suit's stomach and its spare tyre lying next to me. That was  motivation enough to drag its sorry arse out of bed!

I dashed into the bathroom for quick splash of water on my face and tooth-brushing ritual (morning breath is not my thing) before grabbing my 12WBT file and getting into my workout. Today's deal was 'toning' and, God knows, this body needs a lot of that!

So, straight into it and I felt great about giving it my all this morning, smashing the step-ups until my calves were on fire, belting out the push-ups until my arms nearly gave way, squatting and lunging like my life depended on it.

Really enjoyed the workout and loved getting to the end of that ab circuit, feeling fit and fabulous!

Finally, stretching... and I was in heaven. I relish the feeling of lengthening out those muscles that have worked so hard and I really try and take in the moment, listening to the sounds of the morning - the birds outside, a shower running in the bathroom, the hairdryer coming on, as my daughter gets herself ready for school.

So, I was into the home straight, daydreaming about how I must look like Marilyn Munro, sprawled out, languidly enjoying the stretch in my lower back (you know the one where you twist yourself so your top leg is flung over to the right while your torso and head faces left), when in waltzed my husband, just about to head off to work. 

Lying there, sunlight streaming through the windows, I wondered briefly if he might join me on the floor for a bit of early morning canoodling. I looked up at him, a suggestive smile on my lips. He gazed down at me, smiled back and earnestly said, 'You look like road-kill'. 

You have to admit, he had a point!

It made me laugh - a lot - and that's something that I love to do. A good laugh in the morning sets me up for an awesome day.

Hope you, dear reader, also looked like road kill this morning and that just the thought of it makes you smile!

Color Run Fun

It's Sunday night, and all I can say is WOW! This weekend has been fantastic! Rather than sitting around, grazing on cheese platters and quaffing wine by the gallon, I dragged my fat suit out of the house and took it to the Perth Color Run (yes, yes, I know... there's no 'u' in Color... annoying but bearable....) Anyway, apart from the American spelling issue, it was a fantastic fun run ('fun walk' for the fat suit at this stage but a supremely solid effort none-the-less)!

Another step closer to shedding this flab! I plan to find many more active events for weekends - what an amazing time we all had!

Roll on Week 2! 

Bikini Jane's Pinboard

Well, hello there! And finally I'm taking control of this keyboard. Although I'm still in the fat suit, my 'host' is allowing me to post my thoughts about how and when I'm finally going to get out of here.

This week, being the first of our 12 Week Body Transformation, Mish suggested we create a pinboard to help keep us motivated.

I, of course, do not need motivating, but I have to keep plugging away at the fatter half of me, who has used the past 18 years to sit around on her arse and eat crap. Hopefully, she'll come back to this blog every now and then and be reminded about why we're here!

I hope you enjoy the pinboard, dear reader. First, scroll down so you can see the entire video screen. After you click the Start Prezi button, you can expand it to full screen using the little icon in the bottom right corner of the video screen and then just use the forward arrow to have a look through my escape plan :) Press your Esc key on the keyboard at the end, to get out of full screen mode and then leave me a comment way down there, below the video to let me know what you think!

Wish me luck - I have to get outta here!!

A Rustling In The Closet

I have a skirt hanging in my wardrobe that's been there since 2009. It cost an absolute bomb and has never been worn, purchased in the faint hope that, one day, it would fit me....

Last time I tried it on, I could just get it over my hips, with the zip fully open and my gut trying to escape over the top of the waistline.The waistline was, in turn, frantically trying to find something that vaguely resembled a waist (... all in vain... all in vain).

Unfortunately, the skirt isn't the only item that gathers dust in my wardrobe. There's a veritable mountain of 'skinny' clothes, waiting, sadly hanging there, with no-one to show them a good time. To say that I love clothes would be an understatement. In fact, I have even considered that being overweight is one way of keeping my bank balance in the black... if I were a svelte size 12, there would be some very serious spending going on!

Interestingly, of late, things have started to shift around here and there's been a distinct rustling amongst those lonely clothes in the closet.... Someone is whispering in my ear and what she's saying is making sense... Controlling a fashion budget would have to be easier than the regret of not wearing those beautiful 'skinny' clothes. The whispering has been quite insistent and I really do have to agree... it would  be so nice to feel better, sleep better, play better and be... better, I guess.

So, I've embarked on a journey and have committed myself to 12 weeks of being  the 'best version of me' with the help of Michelle Bridges' 12WBT.

It will probably take me a few rounds to get all the weight off I need to lose, as I'm around 30 kg overweight right now. That's a big number. And I'm a big girl. But underneath this rolly-polly body suit, there lives whispering Bikini Jane - a person I think I might have actually 'eaten' in my early twenties.

Bikini Jane feels that she's spent enough time cooped up under the cover of flab and she's getting ready to make her escape. This blog is going to be written by her - by Bikini Jane herself, as she fights for her chance to breathe again.

As of tomorrow, Bikini Jane is in control of the keyboard and I doubt she's going to limit herself to whispering any more!