Fitspiration

I have a confession to make. I really don’t understand why people take photos of themselves posing at the gym and then post them on social media.

Am I meant to be inspired? Impressed? Jealous? Turned on? Crying into my delicious cookies?

I can comprehend going for a bike ride in the forest and sharing a photo of a cool sunset you saw – that is both noting that you exercise and that it has helped you experience something unique and beautiful. I can even understand the “look at this amazing dance and/or acrobatic move I just mastered” photos – because you’re capturing a moment where sustained effort has enabled you to learn a new skill. But I just don’t understand the purpose of proudly sharing the fact you think your ass looks good in lycra and that you can pick up a bit of metal that weighs 100 lbs. So what? This is far from the pinnacle of human endeavor. I can pick up a 100 lb bag of cement (and have done so many times) but I’m not photographing it and then asking for emotional reassurance from someone I knew in high school.

In fact, perhaps that’s it: I don’t understand the gym photos because I don’t need to have my ego stroked by friends and random acquaintances. Although apparently I know people who do.

I’m sure that it sounds crotchety to share this thought in our current world (and it is, a bit). Even if we don’t all laud the growth of narcissism, we at least tolerate it. Mostly. And I am certainly not opposed to sharing the wonders of human achievement and resilience – no matter how insignificant. You managed to perfect your eyeliner after eight attempts? That’s great!

But getting it right the first time? Just showing off how much better your eyeliner is over other people people’s eyeliner? Why am I supposed to give a shit?

… Yeah. I’ll just be over here with my delicious cookies.

So Worth It

Wednesday is Lamb of God Day. This meant that a rainy Tuesday was spent painting my nails (which I haven’t done in about a year) and forgetting to go buy gel pads for my shoes.

I used to wear high heels all the time. I have a wide assortment of very fun heels, and I love them all. I mean, it got to the point that my achilles tendons were so short that I struggled to wear flat shoes for more than an hour or two before my legs would stop working. That got zero sympathy from anybody when I hobbled from the beach or the park on a summer’s day. I even packed lifts in the back of my steelcap work boots so that my tendons were less stretched. That made it a tough change when I started work at my current job, where flat shoes are part of the uniform. For about the first six months, my feet and legs were in constant pain.

Eventually, I figured out the right mixture of heel pads, arch supports and (very expensive) pressure stockings. My tendons stretched out again. So now it’s gone the other way: it hurts to wear high heels. The strength I once had in the balls of my feet has been worn away by… well, by putting weight on my heels.

Any woman who has had to stand through a night in high heels knows that those special gel pads you buy to cushion the balls of your feet do about 10% of nothing. However, I’m considering wearing high heel boots, so I’ll have the ability to add an arch support and full sole insert without it being visible. That might do 20% of nothing, but it’s probably better than feeling like my feet are on fire for six hours.

The alternative, of course, is unthinkable. An evening out in flats… What am I? A Philistine?

Fun & Games

I’ll blame the conferences for the cold. For whatever reason, there always seems to be one jerk who turns up to their company retreat with a head cold, and leaves snotty tissues all over the place for people like me to clean up. Every. Single. Conference. That’s why I had a flu shot earlier this year, because in my job it’s guaranteed I’ll be exposed to every virus that’s making the rounds. It’s worse than running a day care center.

However, I did the decent, socially-conscious thing today and kept my snot at home. It always seems to be the best method for getting over a cold faster: sleep, fluids, and just let it run its course naturally. I already feel a lot better, so will probably be back at work tomorrow with little to-do. Just in time for two more conferences… and a wedding on Thursday… The weather is cooperating by promising thunderstorms this week. This is what you get when you plan a wedding for winter.

When you spend the best part of two days asleep, and the rest of it watching DVDs or perving at men’s gymnastics, there’s not really that much else to share. Gymnastics is one of the few Olympic sports that I’ll watch in large doses. Like many petite, flexible little girls, I did competition gymnastics when I was in school. So I’ll watch it because it’s one of the few sports that I can look at and comment upon semi-intelligently. However, while there is some talent this year, none of the men can really approach the fun of perving at Alexei Nemov back in the day. He seriously made me consider learning Russian, just so that I could fly to Sydney in 2000 with a banner/indecent proposal. Not just artistically gorgeous, but simply gorgeous-gorgeous.

Oh, right, sorry. Ladies aren’t supposed to admit to being lecherous creeps…

But, seriously… mmmm…. look at that inverted cross…

Come on! Who doesn’t watch the Olympics for the eye candy? Isn’t that what it’s all about? Now we just need to convince the IOC to go back to the more traditional games format of everyone competing naked, and all the perverts like me will be much happier. I’ve worked at enough sports events to know one thing: most of the athletes wouldn’t care about nudity since they’re all boffing each other backstage anyway.

Ahh, the Olympics. Everyone pretends it’s about sport and national pride, when really it’s just about sitting on your sofa and leering…

Dog Whistle pt 2

This goes back many years, but I once received an anonymous letter slipped under the door at work. My office had a door to the outside world, so anyone could have put the letter there. I also had no full-time colleagues at that venue – spending most of my working days alone.

The gist of the letter was simple. “I saw you at the supermarket and what you were wearing was disgusting.” “I am the father of three girls.” “You have nice tits which you like to show off.” “You are a disgrace to womanhood and ought to be taught a lesson.” My name was spelled correctly, and this person obviously knew where I worked, so it had to be someone I knew (or at least someone who had met me through work). It also scared the bejeezus out of me. Anonymous rape threats tend to do that.

Continue reading Dog Whistle pt 2

She’s still preoccupied

Part of all this change at work has seen our General Manager push me to start an online course… in project management.

It’s a little ironic, considering I’ve been managing projects (quite successfully) for near on 20 years. He hasn’t expressed any disappointment in my project management skills, but it’s one paper of a bigger diploma which will help me to move to a different level (either in this company or another company). It requires a real-life project to be assessed as part of the course, so I’ve decided to make that project our landscaping and site prep. This way I don’t have to share work secrets but can gain course credits for something I am currently stressing about for free.

Oh, and it sounds like husband got a new job today. At least they said that the contract is in the mail. So there is much positive movement in the wind.

And to be honest, we need it. Our new driveway (meant to be done on Monday) still isn’t finished and now won’t be finished until after the foundations are done in November. There is a problem with compaction, and the bad weather is rolling back in. The plumbing quote blew out by $5500, and then another additional $8000, apparently due to them not being able to use a tape measure. The electrician also got all sulky with the timelines and wanted to add 25% to his price. The earthmovers have now done the same. This is the reality of project management – or at least construction project management. If event contractors were this bad at sticking to quotes and meeting deadlines, no event would ever happen. I am accustomed to a firmer footing with suppliers, in more ways than one. I am trying to be nice with all of these grown men, but keep twitchily remembering that I have a flame-thrower in the back of the car.

Time for something funny. Something someone once threw at me because he claimed I was just like the lady in the video, and he thought I’d be offended. I wasn’t offended at all. Don’t we all want to writhe around on a car in our underwear?…

What Women Want

Ah ha! Finally a subject!

Dick pics!

… Sorry, what I meant to say was male sexual needs and the subtext of displaying one’s penis. But dick pics will do as shorthand.

I saw a couple people (including George Takei) share this link today. The promise was to get the reasoning behind dick pics from the horse’s mouth (or budgie’s mouth, as it were). Men who have done it can share why they do it, and what it all means, and what happens when the police get involved.

Continue reading What Women Want

Before & After #NoFilters #YesThatReallyIsMyBustline

The house smells like pears tonight and it’s really quite pleasant. I should do this more often.

I’m one of those people who is stupid enough to pay $40 for a scented candle (or more often, I get given them as presents) and then just stare at them for months because I can never find the “right” occasion to light them.

I’m sure I’m not the only one.

However it seemed like a “right” enough occasion after yesterday’s excitement… and I just spent 4 hours and over $200 getting my hair done (and done in such a way that it’s meant to look like I haven’t spent 4 hours at the salon) so I felt the need to chill out and burn some more money while I was at it.

Continue reading Before & After #NoFilters #YesThatReallyIsMyBustline

Do you like to play?

Managed to walk down Queen Street tonight in a red-sequinned corset, thigh-high cheetah print boots, and a masquerade mask. Long story. Several young men hooted and yelled at me as I walked, which actually just made me crack up laughing. I’m old enough to be your mother, dearies. Move along.

However, it wasn’t the first time today that some random person tried casting an appreciative eye my way.

Continue reading Do you like to play?

Youth Gone Wild

“How many singles were released from Ratt’s album Out of the Cellar?”

“In what year was Joe Elliot born?”

“Who was the drummer for Cinderella?”

… I got a new phone.

It was about time. My old phone was around 4 years old, and kept having little moments where it forgot it was a phone and thought it was a paperweight or a toaster or something. It was reaching the point where the choice was: a) get a new phone, or b) throw this one through the wall.

Continue reading Youth Gone Wild

Keanu Reeves might sue me

I’ve alluded to this story a few times in the past, mostly when people ask me the stupidest/weirdest/coolest thing I’ve ever done. In retrospect, of course: flying half-way across the world expecting a rock band to love me? Pretty weird. Believing that “I will never hurt you” text message?… Really, unbearably stupid. Getting to walk away (smarter and more humble) and tell the tales? Very cool… But those are long stories. Not the stories of one-sentence replies, nor the ones whose consequences I want to face in another person’s expression. Instead, I just shrug, and give a little coy smile, and say that I once mooned Keanu Reeves.

It was an accident. Sort of. It was partly Jon Bon Jovi’s fault.

But I realize that it’s not a story I’ve ever told in its entirety. It’s more enigmatic as a single sentence, and it makes people imagine all kinds of things…

Continue reading Keanu Reeves might sue me