On my first shift, I was called out to collect a body. Then I assisted in the embalming of this very small, very old lady.
I said something about being thrown in the deep end in last post.
Nothing is quite as deep as the embalming of a human body.
I don't think I was expecting it so soon. I don't think I had really thought about it at all.
It has been a few weeks since it happened. Whilst I feel like I should've come home and written it down as it was fresh in my mind, it was such a full-on experience I needed time to decompress.
Embalming is grim, to say the very least.
Whilst the mortician (not a word used here at all, but I'm sure we can all agree it's super gangster and way cooler than just "embalmer", so...my blog, my word choices) treats the body with respect, it is not a gentle, delicate process.
This woman was essentially skin and bones, but she was still heavy and difficult to handle.
From here I'm going to explain the embalming process in as much detail as I can remember, I want to reiterate, this. is. grim. You can't unlearn what I am about to tell you. I obviously don't know everything, so don't take all my word as gospel, this is just what I did and observed.
The embalming starts with washing the body, soap and warm water.
Rigor mortis is relieved by moving and loosening the joints and massaging the limbs.
This is something that I had previously felt confusion and concern about after my second call out where the woman displayed rigor mortis. I wondered how you made it go away and how you could do it without (this is an actual thought I had that I didn't click on to until I was witnessing it being done) 'hurting" the body.
Spoiler alert: you can't hurt a dead body.
Next, the eyes are closed. This is done using eye caps. Eye caps are like large plastic contact lenses... With little spikes on them. Fairly self-explanatory how those work.
Then the jaw is sewn shut. A suture string is threaded through the lower jaw below the gums, up and through the gums of the top front teeth, into the right or left nostril, through the septum, into the other nostril, and back down into the mouth. Then the two ends of the suture string are tied together.
Then the arterial embalming is done. An incision is made in the neck, then an incision is made in the carotid artery and vein. The embalming fluid is pumped in via the artery, the blood is flushed out via the vein. After the embalming fluid has started making its way through the body the skin starts to look...not "natural".. .but very bright and much less dead.
Next is the cavity embalming. This is the super grim part. An incision is made in the belly and a tool called a trocar is used to puncture the organs to allow for gases and fluids to be released. Essentially it's stabbing a big metal stick all through the organs. It makes a very strange crunching noise that I can still hear...
Through some of this process, the bowels were purging. That's probably the most unpleasant part of it all.
Once the organs have been punctured the abdomen is filled with a more potent embalming fluid.
Once all of the body fluids have been purged and the embalming fluids have been pumped, the incisions are closed. A final wash is done. The body is dried, dressed, and placed in the casket.
Unfortunately, I did not get to flex my makeup artistry skills as this lovely lady was not one for cosmetics.
After all was done, I was exhausted.
I'll be honest, I didn't sleep that well that night.
It was a VERY full on experience.
It's definitely something I need to be exposed to more to get used to.
Just writing that out took the wind out of my sails.
I have to say though, I saw the lady again later that day, in her outfit and her cosy casket. She looked lovely. Peaceful. It was nice seeing her that way.
Monday, November 26, 2018
Better work stories
For the last 2 nights, I have spent time with dead bodies.
A few weeks ago I decided I wanted better work stories.
I currently work in an office. I do invoices. I write emails. I reconcile credit cards.
My recent highlight at work was that I did a stocktake and all the stock was correct and I didn't need to make adjustments.
I wanted better work stories.
So to fast forward through a strange few weeks. But I now have a part-time position as a funeral directors assistant.
I don't know how I managed to talk my way into this, or how it happened so quickly. Or even why I chose this industry.
But here we are.
In the last 48ish hours I have been on call after hours.
I have met my first 2 ...corpses? Bodies? I guess I will work out the terminology as I go...
I have to be honest, corpses are very confronting.
I am "lucky" enough that my first encounters have been minimally "offensive" in that there hasn't been trauma or emergency situations.
My first was a middle-aged gentleman who passed away in the bathroom of a local pub.
The second was an elderly lady who passed away at home in her bathroom.
(bathroom theme? Cool)
The gentleman had partially open eyes and I found it confronting to look him in the face, I ensured his face was covered with any moving of him I had to do.
Rigor Mortis had set in on the elderly woman so her hand was sticking up at an awkward angle. Fortunately for my unseasoned self, her eyes were closed. I still found her face confronting, but slightly less so.
Doing the on-call work is likely to be the least strenuous part in this industry. We have a police contract and are working on behalf of the coroner during those hours, so technically we are not representing or doing the work of the funeral home at those times.
Essentially the entire job is, pick up the deceased, take them to the mortuary, book them, put them into the fridge. There's no preparation or preservation. The body is in the hands of the coroner.
Despite only being on my second run with the elderly lady, my mentor stood back and let me do the majority (if not all) of the job by myself.
What better way to learn to swim than to be thrown into the deep end, I guess.
It wasn't difficult per se, but my penchant for self-doubt is always strong.
Despite my anxieties, I managed to complete the whole process myself under my mentor's supervision.
I had an interesting weekend on call, but I'm going to write about that in its own post.
The final job I had of the week was an elderly Samoan gentleman.
There were many family members present at this mans home. The family were kind and helpful. There were strong grandsons that lifted and moved his body with ease.
One aspect that I truly had great respect for, was that the family let me know they had washed him and changed him into clean clothes.
I think a lot of people are scared of not just death itself, but the dead. For completely unexplainable reasons. What threat could a dead person have to you? Have you been watching too many horror movies maybe? Logically we all know nothing is going to "happen". They are dead, there is nothing more they can do. Unless they died of infectious disease, there is no medical risk of being near or touching a dead person.
So it was truly beautiful that this family had been involved once their loved one had passed. They cared for him as they had in life. It was a comforting and pleasant experience for my last job of the shift.
One thing I am quickly learning is that my stiletto nails are deeply impractical for this job.
More specifically it is any time I have to grab the sheet the body is in as a makeshift handle.
Come next week we will be saying goodbye to my much-adored claws.
Maybe slightly irrelevant to anyone reading, but I suppose now is a good time to explain the purpose of this blog.
I want to remember my experiences.
I have a deeply shocking memory and I feel that I will be grateful for a record of this journey in later years.
I want to be able to reflect and hopefully, I will be able to come back and see a progression of skills.
This post has been sitting here unposted for about 4 weeks now. So clearly this venture is going great.
A few weeks ago I decided I wanted better work stories.
I currently work in an office. I do invoices. I write emails. I reconcile credit cards.
My recent highlight at work was that I did a stocktake and all the stock was correct and I didn't need to make adjustments.
I wanted better work stories.
So to fast forward through a strange few weeks. But I now have a part-time position as a funeral directors assistant.
I don't know how I managed to talk my way into this, or how it happened so quickly. Or even why I chose this industry.
But here we are.
In the last 48ish hours I have been on call after hours.
I have met my first 2 ...corpses? Bodies? I guess I will work out the terminology as I go...
I have to be honest, corpses are very confronting.
I am "lucky" enough that my first encounters have been minimally "offensive" in that there hasn't been trauma or emergency situations.
My first was a middle-aged gentleman who passed away in the bathroom of a local pub.
The second was an elderly lady who passed away at home in her bathroom.
(bathroom theme? Cool)
The gentleman had partially open eyes and I found it confronting to look him in the face, I ensured his face was covered with any moving of him I had to do.
Rigor Mortis had set in on the elderly woman so her hand was sticking up at an awkward angle. Fortunately for my unseasoned self, her eyes were closed. I still found her face confronting, but slightly less so.
Doing the on-call work is likely to be the least strenuous part in this industry. We have a police contract and are working on behalf of the coroner during those hours, so technically we are not representing or doing the work of the funeral home at those times.
Essentially the entire job is, pick up the deceased, take them to the mortuary, book them, put them into the fridge. There's no preparation or preservation. The body is in the hands of the coroner.
Despite only being on my second run with the elderly lady, my mentor stood back and let me do the majority (if not all) of the job by myself.
What better way to learn to swim than to be thrown into the deep end, I guess.
It wasn't difficult per se, but my penchant for self-doubt is always strong.
Despite my anxieties, I managed to complete the whole process myself under my mentor's supervision.
I had an interesting weekend on call, but I'm going to write about that in its own post.
The final job I had of the week was an elderly Samoan gentleman.
There were many family members present at this mans home. The family were kind and helpful. There were strong grandsons that lifted and moved his body with ease.
One aspect that I truly had great respect for, was that the family let me know they had washed him and changed him into clean clothes.
I think a lot of people are scared of not just death itself, but the dead. For completely unexplainable reasons. What threat could a dead person have to you? Have you been watching too many horror movies maybe? Logically we all know nothing is going to "happen". They are dead, there is nothing more they can do. Unless they died of infectious disease, there is no medical risk of being near or touching a dead person.
So it was truly beautiful that this family had been involved once their loved one had passed. They cared for him as they had in life. It was a comforting and pleasant experience for my last job of the shift.
One thing I am quickly learning is that my stiletto nails are deeply impractical for this job.
More specifically it is any time I have to grab the sheet the body is in as a makeshift handle.
Come next week we will be saying goodbye to my much-adored claws.
Maybe slightly irrelevant to anyone reading, but I suppose now is a good time to explain the purpose of this blog.
I want to remember my experiences.
I have a deeply shocking memory and I feel that I will be grateful for a record of this journey in later years.
I want to be able to reflect and hopefully, I will be able to come back and see a progression of skills.
This post has been sitting here unposted for about 4 weeks now. So clearly this venture is going great.
Wednesday, May 18, 2016
The Future Freaks Me Out
I've learnt many lessons in my life.
A relevant statement considering the title of this blog.
I've learnt lessons from other people's mistakes.
I've learnt lessons from negative outcomes.
From positive outcomes.
From seeing the results and being pleased by them or being brutally disappointed by them.
I've learnt that getting a fucken perm will not result in "loose, soft waves" but in an actual fucken perm. Think of a perm. That's what a perm is. NOTHING ELSE.
Don't ever let that apprentice hairdresser tell you any different.
A lesson that I am on the cusp of learning, what happens when you invest money, time, blood, sweat, and tears into something, and then consider that you maybe don't even want it...
If we can stop being all elusive about this for one moment and have some real talk.
Approximately 2 years ago, I applied to a degree in midwifery after completing a foundation course to gain the relevant academic credentials.
I think the last blog I posted was the raw emotion and absolute devastation of not being accepted into said degree.
So I had to find a plan B.
I HAD to.
I didn't think, ok well I can move on, I can get a job, I can see where I end up, maybe I can come back to midwifery and try again.
I decided I needed to do something with this little Certificate in Health Science (level 4).
So I went on the hunt. I trawled through the academic options of what I could study next. What I could become. Who I could be. How I could finish this sentence:
Hi, I'm Kealey, I'm a....
There were only so many options. I knew I didn't want to be a nurse. I didn't want to be a phlebotomist. I didn't want to be a paramedic. I didn't want to be an occupational therapist, whatever the fuck that it. I didn't want to do massage therapy. I wanted to be a midwife.
But they didn't want me...
So back to the top of the list I go
I went through the course lists over and over again. Hoping I'd missed something, that maybe upon re-reading, something else would jump out at me.
People made all the suggestions to me.
Be this be that you'd be AMAZING at this.
I appreciated the input, but aside from midwifery, I couldn't see anything else I really wanted to do.
Wait. Hang on.
Did you see it.
You saw it didn't you.
Go back.
That line there...
I didn't want to be a paramedic.
So how is it I've ended up $22,000 in debt and 6 months into a paramedic degree?
Well you saw what I said. I had to BE someone. Apparently just being wasn't enough.
So I decided paramedics could work.
Would have to work.
Because I have to be someone.
I've heard myself say some strange things out loud over these last few years.
"I have to do this, I have to do something, what else am I going to do?"
"I was a makeup artist before this, but being a makeup artist doesn't save the world"
I even wrote in my paramedic application in the section where it asked why I want to do the degree:
"I want to become a valuable member of society and be of use to my community"
Now ain't that some self deprecating bullshit right there.
Can you imagine someone coming up to you and telling you that your job isn't saving the world? That you need to work on becoming a valuable member of society because your current situation isn't making you of use to your community?
That's no way to talk to someone.
Unless you are going about making people sad and ruining everyone's good time, then generally speaking, you are doing just fine as you are, being you.
At this exact moment in time, I don't know who I am, how I am "being", what I am doing, where I am going. I am in between a rock and a hard place. I am in purgatory. I feel little passion for what I am doing, but I feel much fear and uncertainty about moving on. Holding on to desperate hope that it could get better. But the reality being it is only going to get harder...
This isn't a dramatic bid farewell to my education.
I'm not quitting.
Yet.
Ultimately I'm having a fucken bad day and it's making me question a lot of my current situation, so I thought I'd write it down.
My thoughts could be different tomorrow.
I just wanted to put it out there, that sometimes we quit. Or at least we are very seriously considering it.
This isn't going to be about how you should keep on truckin', or when the going gets tough, the tough get going.
There are no inspirational quotes, no heart felt speeches.
I think I've ended a lot of my blogs like that, negative blooming into positive, seeing the brightside, taking the lesson and learning from it.
This isn't asking for help, or inspiration, or a motivation youtube video.
This is the truth.
This is my pending decision.
This is my current unlearned lesson.
A relevant statement considering the title of this blog.
I've learnt lessons from other people's mistakes.
I've learnt lessons from negative outcomes.
From positive outcomes.
From seeing the results and being pleased by them or being brutally disappointed by them.
I've learnt that getting a fucken perm will not result in "loose, soft waves" but in an actual fucken perm. Think of a perm. That's what a perm is. NOTHING ELSE.
Don't ever let that apprentice hairdresser tell you any different.
A lesson that I am on the cusp of learning, what happens when you invest money, time, blood, sweat, and tears into something, and then consider that you maybe don't even want it...
If we can stop being all elusive about this for one moment and have some real talk.
Approximately 2 years ago, I applied to a degree in midwifery after completing a foundation course to gain the relevant academic credentials.
I think the last blog I posted was the raw emotion and absolute devastation of not being accepted into said degree.
So I had to find a plan B.
I HAD to.
I didn't think, ok well I can move on, I can get a job, I can see where I end up, maybe I can come back to midwifery and try again.
I decided I needed to do something with this little Certificate in Health Science (level 4).
So I went on the hunt. I trawled through the academic options of what I could study next. What I could become. Who I could be. How I could finish this sentence:
Hi, I'm Kealey, I'm a....
There were only so many options. I knew I didn't want to be a nurse. I didn't want to be a phlebotomist. I didn't want to be a paramedic. I didn't want to be an occupational therapist, whatever the fuck that it. I didn't want to do massage therapy. I wanted to be a midwife.
But they didn't want me...
So back to the top of the list I go
I went through the course lists over and over again. Hoping I'd missed something, that maybe upon re-reading, something else would jump out at me.
People made all the suggestions to me.
Be this be that you'd be AMAZING at this.
I appreciated the input, but aside from midwifery, I couldn't see anything else I really wanted to do.
Wait. Hang on.
Did you see it.
You saw it didn't you.
Go back.
That line there...
I didn't want to be a paramedic.
So how is it I've ended up $22,000 in debt and 6 months into a paramedic degree?
Well you saw what I said. I had to BE someone. Apparently just being wasn't enough.
So I decided paramedics could work.
Would have to work.
Because I have to be someone.
I've heard myself say some strange things out loud over these last few years.
"I have to do this, I have to do something, what else am I going to do?"
"I was a makeup artist before this, but being a makeup artist doesn't save the world"
I even wrote in my paramedic application in the section where it asked why I want to do the degree:
"I want to become a valuable member of society and be of use to my community"
Now ain't that some self deprecating bullshit right there.
Can you imagine someone coming up to you and telling you that your job isn't saving the world? That you need to work on becoming a valuable member of society because your current situation isn't making you of use to your community?
That's no way to talk to someone.
Unless you are going about making people sad and ruining everyone's good time, then generally speaking, you are doing just fine as you are, being you.
At this exact moment in time, I don't know who I am, how I am "being", what I am doing, where I am going. I am in between a rock and a hard place. I am in purgatory. I feel little passion for what I am doing, but I feel much fear and uncertainty about moving on. Holding on to desperate hope that it could get better. But the reality being it is only going to get harder...
This isn't a dramatic bid farewell to my education.
I'm not quitting.
Yet.
Ultimately I'm having a fucken bad day and it's making me question a lot of my current situation, so I thought I'd write it down.
My thoughts could be different tomorrow.
I just wanted to put it out there, that sometimes we quit. Or at least we are very seriously considering it.
This isn't going to be about how you should keep on truckin', or when the going gets tough, the tough get going.
There are no inspirational quotes, no heart felt speeches.
I think I've ended a lot of my blogs like that, negative blooming into positive, seeing the brightside, taking the lesson and learning from it.
This isn't asking for help, or inspiration, or a motivation youtube video.
This is the truth.
This is my pending decision.
This is my current unlearned lesson.
Monday, June 29, 2015
Sugar
So today marks the last day of 30 days sugar free.
What an emotional roller coaster it has been.
No I'm totally kidding.
It has been exceptional easy, anticlimactic, and fuss free...
Who would have thought.
In recent years sugar has been hugely demonised in the media.
And rightly so.
That shit is poison.
But I had (what I thought was) a deep seeded love for sugar.
Particularly chocolate.
I knew how bad sugar was for me, but I wanted it. I didn't want to give it up.
I certainly didn't want to give it up for a whole damn month.
I was convinced I was addicted and the process of coming off it would be long, painful, and unbearable.
Then along comes Junk Free June.
It's all over Facebook.
For some reason, I decide I'll do it.
June 1st. My flatmate comes home with 2 giant blocks of new flavoured chocolate.
Hadn't advised him of my challenge. Whoops.
This was my first test.
I swear my jaw was clenched and my fists were balled the entire night.
All evening I had conversations, nay, arguments with myself in my head.
"You actually don't have to do this...No one is making you"
"Have some self respect, it's just chocolate for fuck sake"
That was the tame version. There was a lot of both positive affirmation and down right self abuse going on.
But I got through the night. I didn't eat the chocolate.
And then I continued to not eat chocolate for a whole month.
I also didn't eat any type of dessert, cakes, lollies, muesli bars, anything that was refined or added sugar. No fizzy or sweetened drinks. I had tea and coffee without sugar (I think twice I had sugar free sweetner, wasn't worth it). I didn't even have chocolate on top of my coffee.
My only source of sugar was fruits, honey and real maple syrup.
I can confidently say I did not slip up once. (that I'm aware of...)
Granted I didn't do Junk Free June to it's full potential. This would have included cutting out bread, pasta, cheese, chips, takeaways, processed foods, deep fried food...etc etc. I didn't have a excess of any of those, but I'm pretty happy with my efforts for just going sugar free.
So how do I feel?
Physically I'm not sure there's that much of a difference. I haven't weighed myself yet so I'm not sure if I've lost weight. I don't feel like I have. But that was never the aim.
The biggest result I have out of this was practicing self control.
I thought I had none.
I proved myself wrong in the best way.
I said no. I kept saying no.
And it was fine. I didn't lose my mind, I didn't cry, I didn't have physical symptoms of withdrawal.
I was never addicted.
So now what?
I have no desire to eat sugar the way I did before. Honestly. Now that I know I can manage without it, I'm done with it.
I'm aiming to make it a weekend treat. And in actual treat sized portions. Not entire blocks of chocolate shared between myself and my husband like before.
Some say "I don't need sugar in my tea, I'm sweet enough"
I was bitter and needed sweetening up.
Now I'm sweet as.
So there we go.
I did a thing and it was good.
I'm proud of myself.
Did you do Junk Free June?
How did you do?
What an emotional roller coaster it has been.
No I'm totally kidding.
It has been exceptional easy, anticlimactic, and fuss free...
Who would have thought.
In recent years sugar has been hugely demonised in the media.
And rightly so.
That shit is poison.
But I had (what I thought was) a deep seeded love for sugar.
Particularly chocolate.
I knew how bad sugar was for me, but I wanted it. I didn't want to give it up.
I certainly didn't want to give it up for a whole damn month.
I was convinced I was addicted and the process of coming off it would be long, painful, and unbearable.
Then along comes Junk Free June.
It's all over Facebook.
For some reason, I decide I'll do it.
June 1st. My flatmate comes home with 2 giant blocks of new flavoured chocolate.
Hadn't advised him of my challenge. Whoops.
This was my first test.
I swear my jaw was clenched and my fists were balled the entire night.
All evening I had conversations, nay, arguments with myself in my head.
"You actually don't have to do this...No one is making you"
"Have some self respect, it's just chocolate for fuck sake"
That was the tame version. There was a lot of both positive affirmation and down right self abuse going on.
But I got through the night. I didn't eat the chocolate.
And then I continued to not eat chocolate for a whole month.
I also didn't eat any type of dessert, cakes, lollies, muesli bars, anything that was refined or added sugar. No fizzy or sweetened drinks. I had tea and coffee without sugar (I think twice I had sugar free sweetner, wasn't worth it). I didn't even have chocolate on top of my coffee.
My only source of sugar was fruits, honey and real maple syrup.
I can confidently say I did not slip up once. (that I'm aware of...)
Granted I didn't do Junk Free June to it's full potential. This would have included cutting out bread, pasta, cheese, chips, takeaways, processed foods, deep fried food...etc etc. I didn't have a excess of any of those, but I'm pretty happy with my efforts for just going sugar free.
So how do I feel?
Physically I'm not sure there's that much of a difference. I haven't weighed myself yet so I'm not sure if I've lost weight. I don't feel like I have. But that was never the aim.
The biggest result I have out of this was practicing self control.
I thought I had none.
I proved myself wrong in the best way.
I said no. I kept saying no.
And it was fine. I didn't lose my mind, I didn't cry, I didn't have physical symptoms of withdrawal.
I was never addicted.
So now what?
I have no desire to eat sugar the way I did before. Honestly. Now that I know I can manage without it, I'm done with it.
I'm aiming to make it a weekend treat. And in actual treat sized portions. Not entire blocks of chocolate shared between myself and my husband like before.
Some say "I don't need sugar in my tea, I'm sweet enough"
I was bitter and needed sweetening up.
Now I'm sweet as.
So there we go.
I did a thing and it was good.
I'm proud of myself.
Did you do Junk Free June?
How did you do?
Friday, May 1, 2015
Roar
On todays episode of Get Fit or Die Trying, tiny hippo ventures outside into the backyard...
Today I mowed the lawns.
All of the lawns.
All by myself.
It took nearly two hours.
There was some hill action included.
I made many a strange noise hauling the mower back and forth, up and down.
I also had many images of pushing it up, slipping and having it roll back over me....
Mmm gruesome.
I mowed the crap out of that lawn until the sun went down.
It was a magical moment, enjoying the fruits of my labour (what?), witnessing the soft blue grey sunset, listening to Wiz Khalifa on my turbo bass headphones.
Magical.
My elusive app confirmed my 6000 steps and 60 minutes of activity.
I'm already feeling better in myself even after 4 days.
I feel more awake. I am lying in bed writing this but I'm not completely exhausted.
I mowed the damn lawn.
I am tough as balls.
I am woman, hear me roar.
Today I mowed the lawns.
All of the lawns.
All by myself.
It took nearly two hours.
There was some hill action included.
I made many a strange noise hauling the mower back and forth, up and down.
I also had many images of pushing it up, slipping and having it roll back over me....
Mmm gruesome.
I mowed the crap out of that lawn until the sun went down.
It was a magical moment, enjoying the fruits of my labour (what?), witnessing the soft blue grey sunset, listening to Wiz Khalifa on my turbo bass headphones.
Magical.
My elusive app confirmed my 6000 steps and 60 minutes of activity.
I'm already feeling better in myself even after 4 days.
I feel more awake. I am lying in bed writing this but I'm not completely exhausted.
I mowed the damn lawn.
I am tough as balls.
I am woman, hear me roar.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015
Work It
Day threeeee.
They say it takes 21 days to form a habit.
Then I googled that and google says that 21 days is a MYTH and it's actually more like 66.
Whatever google.
I'm only 63 days away from this becoming a habit!
So todays activities I got a bit creative with.
And can I please have a fucken high five because I've been doing waaaay more than just 30 minutes a day.
Anyway.
I did the groceries today, so that was a bit of physical activity, plodding around the supermarket.
BUT. Buuuut.
When I got home, then came the turbo creativeness.
Instead of this old chestnut...
I made an effort to make as many trips as possible.
Huh huh. Up here for thinkin', down there for dancin'.
So 9 trips up and down 2 flights of stairs.
Boom goes the dynamite.
AND IT DIDN'T STOP THERE.
I also walked to school to pick up my sprog and turned my medium sized butt around and walked her all the way home (wee wee wee little piggy)
That was a total of 5km of walking.
Solid effort!
And my little app I was unaware I had on my phone popped up and told me I had reached my goal before I was even half way to school. Upon my arrival home I have walked ~13,000 steps today.
That's better than a poke in the eye with a stick.
I'm thinking about what activity I can do tomorrow that maybe isn't walking...
They say it takes 21 days to form a habit.
Then I googled that and google says that 21 days is a MYTH and it's actually more like 66.
Whatever google.
I'm only 63 days away from this becoming a habit!
So todays activities I got a bit creative with.
And can I please have a fucken high five because I've been doing waaaay more than just 30 minutes a day.
Anyway.
I did the groceries today, so that was a bit of physical activity, plodding around the supermarket.
BUT. Buuuut.
When I got home, then came the turbo creativeness.
Instead of this old chestnut...
I made an effort to make as many trips as possible.
Huh huh. Up here for thinkin', down there for dancin'.
So 9 trips up and down 2 flights of stairs.
Boom goes the dynamite.
AND IT DIDN'T STOP THERE.
I also walked to school to pick up my sprog and turned my medium sized butt around and walked her all the way home (wee wee wee little piggy)
That was a total of 5km of walking.
Solid effort!
And my little app I was unaware I had on my phone popped up and told me I had reached my goal before I was even half way to school. Upon my arrival home I have walked ~13,000 steps today.
That's better than a poke in the eye with a stick.
I'm thinking about what activity I can do tomorrow that maybe isn't walking...
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
This Is How We Do
So todays 30 minute workout was interesting...
I had initially planned to walk the dog again. Nothing exciting. Because excitement isn't my thing.
Introvert life. Yeeeeee.
Upon donning my poorly matching workout gear (it's dog walking, not a fashion show damnit)
a friend rang and said she was on her way. Aw. Oh well, friend catch ups, ain't nothing wrong wit dat. Will walk the dog later. Catch ups extended far longer than I intended and before I knew it it was school pickup time. Bother, no dog walking for me. (I prefer to walk alone, bringing the kid along wasn't an option)
So I turned to my BFF YouTube.
I'll have one 30 minute yoga workout please Mr Tube.
I typed it in and picked the one that had beginners in the title, because I'm probably less than a beginner to be honest.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPkNZwTFpxU
I was greeted by textbook "relaxing" music, a turbo babe on a yoga mat and then the voice of ...maybe Hugh Hefner? I don't know, he sounded like an old dude who is tired of your shit.
So I did my tubby, unflexible attempt at yoga and it was fine, I'm not particularly balanced yet, but I'll keep working on that.
Then it came to my faaaavourite part of yoga.
Savasana!
Or, in English, the corpse pose!
That's where you lie the fuck down and do all but fall asleep.
So the video told me to do savasana and I was just laying there with my eyes closed, chilling out, pretending to be a corpse. But then at some point I realised the video had stopped and hadn't advised me it had stopped. So who knows how long I was a corpse for.
Upon rising from the dead, another video had popped up.
30 minute dance workout.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tj9d6aBOzDo
Go on then.
I like dancing, I'm pretty good at it. I got nowhere to be.
Let me say. I am glad no one was around to see this train wreck.
Have you ever noticed how white I am?
No neither.
NOT UNTIL THIS WORKOUT VIDEO.
Good lord I am uncoordinated.
These moves weren't even that complicated.
But I powered on through that mother.
I pretended I was looking in a mirror instead of at a TV. Like fuck yeah I am an Indian GODDESS.
Look at my sexy abs and bewitching eyes. Fall under my spell bitches. Yeeeeee.
There was commentary throughout the video from the resident Goddess herself. She was actually kind of aggressive at some points. I almost took it personally. MOVE IT! KEEP UP! she bellowed at me in a stern voice.
Yes Miss, sorry Miss.
It was high energy and it definitely got my heart rate up. After my 1 minute water break allowance my Indian beauty told me we were moving on to the best part, the Bollywood phase!
Wait what.
Ok GO.
Just kidding. There was no instruction and they just danced like it was a competition.
I couldn't keep up so I literally gave my TV the fingers and had my own dance party for the last 5 minutes.
Day 2
Done and dusted.
I had initially planned to walk the dog again. Nothing exciting. Because excitement isn't my thing.
Introvert life. Yeeeeee.
Upon donning my poorly matching workout gear (it's dog walking, not a fashion show damnit)
a friend rang and said she was on her way. Aw. Oh well, friend catch ups, ain't nothing wrong wit dat. Will walk the dog later. Catch ups extended far longer than I intended and before I knew it it was school pickup time. Bother, no dog walking for me. (I prefer to walk alone, bringing the kid along wasn't an option)
So I turned to my BFF YouTube.
I'll have one 30 minute yoga workout please Mr Tube.
I typed it in and picked the one that had beginners in the title, because I'm probably less than a beginner to be honest.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JPkNZwTFpxU
I was greeted by textbook "relaxing" music, a turbo babe on a yoga mat and then the voice of ...maybe Hugh Hefner? I don't know, he sounded like an old dude who is tired of your shit.
So I did my tubby, unflexible attempt at yoga and it was fine, I'm not particularly balanced yet, but I'll keep working on that.
Then it came to my faaaavourite part of yoga.
Savasana!
Or, in English, the corpse pose!
That's where you lie the fuck down and do all but fall asleep.
So the video told me to do savasana and I was just laying there with my eyes closed, chilling out, pretending to be a corpse. But then at some point I realised the video had stopped and hadn't advised me it had stopped. So who knows how long I was a corpse for.
Upon rising from the dead, another video had popped up.
30 minute dance workout.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tj9d6aBOzDo
Go on then.
I like dancing, I'm pretty good at it. I got nowhere to be.
Let me say. I am glad no one was around to see this train wreck.
Have you ever noticed how white I am?
No neither.
NOT UNTIL THIS WORKOUT VIDEO.
Good lord I am uncoordinated.
These moves weren't even that complicated.
But I powered on through that mother.
I pretended I was looking in a mirror instead of at a TV. Like fuck yeah I am an Indian GODDESS.
Look at my sexy abs and bewitching eyes. Fall under my spell bitches. Yeeeeee.
There was commentary throughout the video from the resident Goddess herself. She was actually kind of aggressive at some points. I almost took it personally. MOVE IT! KEEP UP! she bellowed at me in a stern voice.
Yes Miss, sorry Miss.
It was high energy and it definitely got my heart rate up. After my 1 minute water break allowance my Indian beauty told me we were moving on to the best part, the Bollywood phase!
Wait what.
Ok GO.
Just kidding. There was no instruction and they just danced like it was a competition.
I couldn't keep up so I literally gave my TV the fingers and had my own dance party for the last 5 minutes.
Day 2
Done and dusted.
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