Wednesday, September 6

Salad



I'm putting on weight.

Its hard to believe, given my rigorous schedule of being utterly fabulous and working as a Landscape Architect to the stars. But lets turn to camera two with a serious face and consider its real implications. Its a death knoll in this fabulously fickle gay old town. And a move that could see me totally alienated from my fabulously glittering A-list social clique of Aussie expats and my cat (bitchy lot). So I've decided to do something about it.

A good friend once said to me that I was obsessed with my weight. Well, honey, yes I might be, but look at you. You're a 6ft 2 Amazon supermodel who is the only person I have ever known who would turn heads at 9 months pregnant. And obviously you isn't no gay man, so lets not judge Mrs Pussy please. Its part of mine and every man who owned a Deee-lite album's genes to be obsessed with our centre of gravity. And every self respecting Friend of Liza will be nodding in total unflubbering agreement.

I've been on diets before, and I'm not even going to muse on what sort of rubbish calorie free flavour free celery rich cabbage encrusted crock of shit diet I might have gotten sucked into if it weren't for my trusty favourite sandwich shoppe on the corner. So, there, every day, made especially fresh for me (despite me getting it off a semi cooled shelf totally exposed to the busy street) I may purchase a lovely bread free sandwich; thoroughly enjoyable, despite the fact that it is really just salad.

Yesterday, this was, mind you, just after I had been sweating my guts out at the gym (well, alright, I did 10 minutes on the runner whilst I sang the latest Alcazar album out loud). And what's the number one priority for all aspiring walnuts to do, once we have pumped our little muscles in the gymnasium? Well, ingest at least half a buffalo in protein, naturally. Or at least a protein shake or bar would help.

I swear, when the president of Gaytopia decrees that carbs are no longer allowed, and that we're only supposed to eat salad and buffalo, he should fnerking well tell all respectable scoff houses, supermarkets, noodle houses, deli's and Zara boutiques. I went into Marks and Spencer food and they had a whole aisle of chips and bread, half the shop was dedicated to some form of pasta I had never even heard of, and a whole WALL OF CHOCOLATE PUDDING, but NOTHING with any quick to ingest protein.

I suppose that's good if you're the other fat lady. Which in a very short time, I very well may be.

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1 Comments:

Blogger Adrian said...

I love the thought of running in the gym whilst singing an Alcazar album. I listen to lots of poppy snappy Europop, and I often wonder what hard-house-banging-hardcore-tunes others are listening to.

Cool blog, I like it.

2:44 pm  

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