I Ran For Three Minutes Today.

Four days ago I was set to run, then I didn't. Today however, I ran for a total of three minutes and walked for twenty. I bought a holder for my iPhone, planned a route for where I would go and downloaded an App called C25K (which btw is way too much for me, so maybe it's 'Couch-2-5ks-If-You've-Been-Sitting-On-The-Couch-In-Between-Running-Around-The-Living-Room') and started down the drive this morning. Then I got this weird pain in the sides of my lower legs and ankles which decided to radiate and in the end I could barely walk back let alone keep running.

It's quite probable that running with this much weight was too much for my poor little tendons. I'm assuming that that's it since google keeps telling me that those symptoms mean I've been pushing myself too hard and too often, laughable since it began about thirty seconds into jogging. So foiled by my fat suit once again I've decided that for the first time in my life, that's not going to stop me. I'm going to change my shoes to something more supportive and begin 'power-walking' on Thursday and see where that takes me. God I hate power-walkers... So in spite of my head telling me I should take it 'as a sign' and just eat those vanilla cupcakes instead I'm going to choose to become one of those people, those silly looking power-walkers.

Maybe I'll have to buy a whole new running outfit to make myself feel better...

I Am Fat (if you try to tell me otherwise I will sit on you to death).

Instead of telling you my weight I'll tell you my BMI is 30.5 (clinically obese). I'm a very tall person, with big boobs, no arse and no hips but a large belly in-between. I also have PCOS (Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome), am Insulin Resistant (pre-diabetic) and am a recovering Compulsive Binge Eater.

So those are the stats that I'm working with here, not that they actually mean a lot when put them in a list like that. It's a lot like the total of your student loan, it's there, you're aware of it, you fear it's wrath but it's not actually sitting next to you on the bus. Or if it is then it's that smelly guy with the beanie who you hope won't talk to you. 

I always thought that my Bipolar would be my 'undoing' but it turns out that my weight is the lurking threat that I have only recently had the courage to look at. Before I was able to be drug-free and mostly mentally stable, I was in survival mode and often my biggest real goal of the day was getting out of bed and into the shower. 

I feel like I wake up every day of my life inside a fat suit. I'll take this opportunity to say that, yes I know I'm not massive (I've been told most of my life that I'm not "that big", thanks to genetics I look okay but feel heavy and sluggish) and plenty of people have it much, much worse. However, I'm still going to complain and that is my right. Once you tip the scale to 'obesity' on the BMI I think the one thing you do get to do is label yourself as fat without people telling you you're not "that big". They mean well but honestly, the only thing it makes me feel is guilty for expressing how I feel, which as far as I'm concerned is the most important part. 

Tomorrow I am starting the 'Couch to 5k' program. Partly because I like the idea of commiting to just three days a week but mostly because I don't want to die of diabetes or whatever horror my Doctor wants to warn me about next.

I am terrified. Not of the health warnings but of the running part. I take quiet pride in my successful attempts to avert P.E in school (the best one was my manipulation of the heart scan I had to get when I was 15 for a heart murmur, that I turned into a full year of not being 'able' to run). Any exercise freaks me out, I feel like everyone is staring at me but most of all I fear failing myself once again in an attempt to create a healthier version of me. 

Wish me luck. I'm not kidding myself, I wrote this mainly so I don't have the gaul to chicken out tomorrow.

I fail at arguments.

When I argue I get angry, I get upset which means I cry, which means I get flustered, which means I forget what I'm saying and end up as a crumbled up, confused mess of me, on the floor. Not pretty. 

It must be frustrating to argue with me, perhaps even as frustrating as it is to be me. Luckily I met someone who is immune to tears, he stays solid as a rock amongst my snotty gurgles but when I inevitably lose my point/the plot line and begin to rattle out something ridiculously off-topic or incomprehensible, he gets pretty pissed off and rightly so.

Don't get me wrong though, I would never purposefully do this and yes I do realise that that's not much consolation since it still happens under my watch (even my own consciousness), however what exactly is the magic trick I'm missing here? How does everyone else manage to keep the bunny stuffed in the hat until the big reveal? 

Obviously the bipolar bears of us/me are more inclined to have our emotions jump on any and every possible roller-coaster ride they can muster but there must be some sort of technique that doesn't include counting to 10 backwards (my multitasking skills leave much to be desired) to calm the fuck down? 

Or am I forever destined to fail every argument due to the default emotional stroke-like symptoms that get me sent off for 'pulling a Hollywood' on the field during every match?

Ignorance = Danger

Do you ever feel that things are going well that you're just positive something big is about to gatecrash? That's how I feel right now, a bit fragile. 


In saying that, it's just my way of attempting to cope with the roller-coaster. I like to feel prepared for the worst, not get too wrapped up in that safe, cozy feeling because I know it doesn't last. I'm sure that sounds pretty negative and it probably is but my particular version of life hasn't been exactly smooth. 


This doesn't mean I'm unhappy, I am happy. I'm just not about to close my eyes anytime soon and let things go to shit if I can help it. 


When I google-image search these words: Ignorance, safety, roller-coaster, fragile, happiness, realism, I get this... Lol.

Tweet, tweet.

People who 'tweet' constantly seem a bit sad to me. I understand why celebrities do it (even then though I feel like they've gotten way too wrapped into their celebrity to be interesting) but the average Joe/Josephine living their lives compulsively 'tweeting' every coffee, every wait for the bus, every thought that goes through their heads? I'm not sure why that's supposed to be so fascinating.

In saying all of this, I'm currently writing a blog to no one because no one but my Mum (and some trollers) reads this. So whom is the more pathetic? I spose that I write this to no one and have for many years because it's an outlet and I've always been a bit of an exhibitionist at heart. I like to write/type and having this small space on the web just for me and whatever I want to say is comforting. 

I'm not sure what would happen if someone began to 'tweet' back to me (other than the work related ones). Maybe my whole world would implode and I'd turn into one of those sad people I like to pity on my high horse/unicorn hybrid? 

I think my boyfriend would leave me.

Parent Groups.

I don't think I'm a group person. I tend to sit amongst a group, quietly listening and internally disagreeing to the people who are speaking. There doesn't seem much point to voice my difference in opinion when everyone else is nodding and agreeing with each other so happily. Who am I to ruin their coffee and cake?

I once went to a 'Parents Coffee Group' ('Parents' meaning 'Mothers'). I sat, I ate a muffin but mostly I just wanted to scream at the two Mums who decided their kids should have free-reign to do whatever they wanted during their 'Coffee Group' time.

One kid kept snatching toys off Trin and pushing the other kids around. Meanwhile his Mum ignored her kid's mean behaviour so she could bitch about the cost of childcare and the upmost importance of professional cupcakes at her children's birthday parties. When we got back to the car I apologised profusely to Trin for taking her to such a horrible place and promised I'd never do it to either of us ever again.

Here is my dilemma: Is there no happy medium between the obsessive, overbearing parent who lives and breaths organic, bio-friendly, trade-fair, dipped in adorable crushed up Angel's wings, Wet Wipes and the uninvolved parent who contently sends their kid to the School Bakesale with store-bought biscuits because they sign a massive cheque once a year to a School with a designer uniform and horse-riding classes?

In all fairness to the parents I just mocked, I think that, that balance is harder to find than any new parent first expects.

Figure 1. Fancy uniforms can't teach classiness.

I Do Not Like It Sam I Am.

I do not like facebook.

It's like this time-sucking black hole where people go to mainly complain. I realise I am at this moment complaining and so quite possibly losing some of my vast amounts of 'street cred'. 

However, now that the damage is done...

Domestication.

I would like a home please. It doesn't have to be fancy, large or even very pretty but I'd like it to be mine/ours. 


Yesterday I realised I've moved seven times in a year. This seems somewhat excessive. Given, there were some unplanned upheavals and I have always been notorious for not staying in one place for very long but I'm getting tired of this to-ing and fro-ing about the place. 


Not to mention the twenty minute history lesson I am forced to give each new lucky Doctor I end up with. 


Time to resurface from debt and save for one of those classy 'Welcome' mats to adorn the family hutch with. 


I have blossomed into a domesticated bitch-face at last. 


Yes Mum, that's what I said.

I'm Geni and I'm...

...a 'recovering' Compulsive Binge Eater. Most of my life I've been completely obsessed by food, by how to get it, how to get more of it and particularly getting more of it without other people noticing.

I used to spend my time at parties socialising, looking 'normal' but with one keen eye on the chip bowl. I'd know how much other people had eaten and had made somewhat of a science of knowing when I could grasp the opportunity to eat more without looking like a pig.

I ended up going to therapy for it, after seeing a Psychologist for a year, once a week I managed to slowly ween myself off my destructive binging behaviour. I'm definitely not 'fixed' though, I still overeat, I still find the balance of eating a completely baffling mystery. I just don't binge anymore.

I've recently been reading about the Western Society's obsession with 'health', food and weight. I realised that for me to be happy in my own skin I'm going to have to stop agreeing with all the negative messages, that means I've stopped putting myself down out-loud and I'm working on shutting the voice up in my head as well.

I'm so sick of the guilt I have with eating. The thing is my guilt isn't exercise, I'm still fat, I'm just fat AND guilty in this current state. I may never be skinny but I'm going to enjoy the things I like, try my best not to overdo it and just cut myself some slack. Being kinder to myself seems like a step in the right direction.

I Love You But I Don't Love Your Behavior

It's funny what gives you motivation, if even a tad fleeting. Mine seems to come in small waves, which then fade out and somehow get lost amongst all the unimportant nonsense that fills my head.

If only I could hold onto that feeling I get when everything seems so clear.

Right now I'm sitting here, surrounded by possibility. I get lost in it all so easily and forget why I once stood up and pointed in a certain direction. I am not someone who finishes things and I realized about five minutes ago that one day I'm going to wake up, look around and feel like I'm in the same position. Except I'll be 50 and all those choices that I feel are just swallowing me up right now, they wont be there anymore.

Regret isn't something I believe in, I think we make mistakes, we hopefully learn and we continue to keep growing, but I do believe in committing to your decisions and even if it all turns to shit, at least you tried.

I may believe but I don't actively participate in those beliefs, which is why I suppose I look at myself and only see potential that I very rarely ever fulfill. I don't follow through, and this whole feeling just reminds me so much of when I was a kid, had done something wrong and my parents would say they loved me but they didn't love my behavior.

I do love me but my behavior? Not so much.

Appreciating The Silly Too.

I just read a critique of 'Twilight', the first book by one of my favorite NZ Bloggers and am compelled to write something in response to it and the many, many comments that followed her post.

I like the 'Twilight' series. I also know that it is a terribly written series. What I enjoy about it is the love story, probably for the same reason I can sit and watch the old 'Felicity' TV series till 2am, happily read for hours about completely ridiculous teenage angst vampires and wish there was more, not to mention cry my way through 'The Notebook' even though it's embarrassingly obvious I'm being manipulated into tears by cleverly placed violins. Does this mean I can't tell the difference between what is incredible writing/music/film/TV and what is sap that I also enjoy? I don't think so.

I've had this argument with many people, mainly my sister. I believe I have the right to enjoy a shitty Pop song and still appreciate what I consider to be genuinely beautiful music which gives me those glorious goose-bumps and makes me think. It is possible to appreciate something on it's own level, for what it is, not expecting it to be any more than what it is. Does it make me appreciate the heights less because I elect to bask in some shallow, ignorant happy?

No. And those of you you think otherwise are just being snobs.


Those of you who critique a series written for teenage girls as though it was aimed at anyone but a 15 year old, who desperately wants to believe that some sparkly, gorgeous, vampire will whisk her away from the bullshit time that is being 15 years old, has missed the point entirely. It's a fantasy book, written for people who want to read something easy, that will help them escape from whatever it is they want reprieve from. Reading anything more into it, is a waste of time. Fin.

Positive Forces

I have employment and am leaving it to study Psychology, which I have only just taught myself to spell correctly in the last week. Having employment is comfy (financially) but I've felt like this particular one has been wearing my shiny surface away slowly. If anything I've realized that I want to put my energy towards something that means something more, that's creating a positive force in the world. Currently I wake up feeling like I'm supporting something that does the opposite.

So I am the excite. Also the nervous, but I'm trying to be brave about it all and balls up. I do worry about the part about me studying by myself and being at home all the time so I'm going to have to plan some daily excursions into the outside world. Also looking for a part-time job so I don't go completely insane in my own company for too long.

Hope you are having a nice relaxing Sunday, I implore you to spend part of it lying in bed, eating avocado on toast and scouring the Interweb funnies.