If that's a look on her face, I guess we're never ever gonna find out

It’s easy to feel virtuous when you are doing things that are good for you.

At the moment, I am walking around 45 minutes at least once a day and riding my bike to work (about a 15 minute ride, but up some substantial hills - let me tell you, indignation oozes from every pore when I have to ride up a hill just 50 metres from my house). This makes me feel not unlike those pictures you see of Jesus and Mary in tacky shops, only instead of the glow of the lord, it’s the glow of self-righteousness emanating from me*.

However, there are things that being fitter (and let’s face it, not that much fitter, it’s only been a month) will not fix. For example, today I am wearing my tallest high-heels. By some standards (e.g, the members of Kiss), they’re not that high – about two and a half inches I would guess. But as I haven’t worn them in a long time, I have a distinct totter going.

The other ever-present issue when one is exercising and losing weight is the inconsistency of weight loss. The aforementioned shoes, for example, are distinctly looser on my feet, probably only compounding my balance issues. Or that’s my excuse for today, anyhow. To tell the absolute truth, my clumsiness is famed throughout the land (did I say land, I meant throughout my family and social circle) and in the primary source documentation of my life (as well as evidenced by the bruises on my legs that correspond exactly with the height of my desk corners, kitchen table and bed-end) – the fact that I can walk in high heels at all is either lucky or stupid (or both).

My sister also arrived at my home on Saturday to observe something along the lines of “Oh my god! Where is your bosom?!” I would like to think that I kindly donated it to my pregnant friend MW, who finds herself with a bosom for the first time in years** and in fact, if Garfield is to be believed, weight that is lost needs to find some one else to smack itself onto, otherwise it’s just floating around in the ether.

And clearly this new-found fervour for exercise is rubbing off onto Mr Fix (who is engaged in his own regime***) and also Grizzlewick, who said to me on Friday that he “had to do lots of exercise” because his tummy “was very full, mummy”. It’s a delight to me that he still has no concept of “fat” or “thin”, and his only body-image issues are related to his hair (which he doesn’t want cut, despite the fact that it is a thick thatch that leaves his pillow pooled with sweat on hot nights).


In other news:

1. Maxine McKew, you say? Interesting.

2. The “supporting the Corrs” dude came to my house on the weekend on his way to SUPPORT A CAUSE. Hypocrite.

3. Why will Stephen Cummings post all of the lyrics to every song he has ever written on the internet but not the guitar tabs? Surely this is just selfish/trying to make guitar hacks pay the requisite APRA (in which case, go for your life Stephen but rest assured there is no way I am ever going to make any money by playing your songs except perhaps in donations to stop me doing so)?

4. It is possible that J. Walker has the sexiest voice of all time. If he starts a cult (as some would have you believe is only a short time away) I will be joining it.

5. Some one is playing guitar in the office next to mine. I don’t know what to make of this. In fact, from what I can hear, the guy next door is teaching some one else who works here how to play bar chords. This would never happen at the ATO.

6. Is Rosella fruit chutney one of the Aussie-est things of all time? I say yes.

* Some would argue that I already emanate a self-righteousness equalled only by the likes of Steven Fielding. At least I don’t talk about myself in what I like to call the “der-person”…more on that later.

** In all other respects, MW is carrying little or no extra weight at all, and has insisted on wearing mini-skirts right through her pregnancy. She is an amazing woman, that one. In the immortal words of Chick Hicks, MW, "no, YOU rock! And you know that!"

*** Why is it always a fitness ‘regime”? Does fitness require a regime because in a fitness democracy we’d all exercise our right to stay on the couch? I like to think of my fitness routine as a “benevolent dictatorship”.